I have approximately 15 days until my trip to check out the university in Bergen via London. Along with English (GRE material), I thought it necessary to learn some Norwegian other than pick-up lines and rude slang today.
Ever since I've been back from Norway, I've been on a nonstop roller-coaster in figuring out the next 24 months. It can be slightly or entirely overwhelming to have so many options - how do you make the best decision? Which benefits your brain the most? What about mentally? For instance, I could not see myself living in New York City but I could, however, see myself living (happier) in some hole somewhere in the Arctic, "as long as I was getting a good education" rationality says.
So moving on with grad school and possibly away from Seattle... brings me back to moving to Seattle. I didn't believe I'd actually do it. I had lived in Oklahoma my entire 21 years. The first two weeks seemed like vacation really; I drove with the scruffy kiwi to Colorado where we tried mastering the mountain range from various angles. Then I was off like a poof of wind! Or rather, like a very cautious but excited young girl trying to navigate her way through the western U.S. yet arriving in Seattle on time to catch a flight to another land.This is how it was. Sunny. It didn't rain on me once. I drove through the windy roads of the western Rockies, slipping out into nothingness with tired semis and vacationing minivans on a hot cement road that would supposedly bring me to arches - and not McDonald's.
I stopped by a riverbed for lunch and ate a sandwich. Everyone there was either with their families or friends. I left shortly after consumption, wondering what I was doing here.
I checked into a typical hotel on the outskirts of Arches National Park. I had driven for 7 hours but there was still time to get out to the park for sunset. I drove, explored, climbed and brought my then new camera for company. I'll never forget driving along the park at sunset with fuchsia boulders rising up on either side of me. I was on my own and it was neat. The next day I was off again, but this time I had a mission to meet up with my senile mother and her friends in Salt Lake City. This was nice... not just because it cut my driving time down, but because there was familiarity after the first 24+ hours alone on the desert road. And there was beer and stories.
I left Salt Lake City with a bold plan to go slightly off the beaten track to John Day National Monument to see the Painted Hills. It seems that not many people have heard of this area which made it a real treat to see on one's own. The Painted Hills were not the only attraction it turned out - every region of the monument had its specialty. Blue hills, dinosaur fossils, layers of colorful sands and rock everywhere. I had largely underestimated it's size... I ended up driving for the longest stretch of my life. Getting there was simple enough but leaving nearly took me into insanity with steep, windy concentration-needed roads for hours and hours and hours. I nearly reached my limit but I was unsure of how safe it'd be for a girl to sleep in a car on the side of the road in these not-too-wild hills. I decided not very and drove until fields of wind mills appeared. I didn't think I was at the insanity point of envisioning Don Quixote but they were there - lots of them. Yellow flowers filled the ground below them and stretched on forever. I didn't know where the heck I was but it was pretty special. Just in time for sunset too.
I think I ended up staying in Pendleton or Kennewick. I was exhausted at this point and checked into the motel I had booked the previous night. Usually I'm not too particular about where I sleep, but for the first time in my life, I was extremely aware that I was the only female in the motel area... which turned out to be a stop for semi-trucks on their long-haul across the states. I double-locked my room that night and high-tailed it in the early morning.
My last sight-seeing stop was to be Mt. Rainier National Park that day but not without driving through one of the longest desert roads in the world, I think. I was on top of a hill cradled by two larger hills on either side that stretched beyond the horizon. I stopped the car, stood outside and breathed. I forget how nice it is to do that sometimes. I got back in the car, barely pushing on the accelerator to see how fast I could go with gravity. I loved that moment, minus running over a ground squirrel.
I was soon in the National Forest with random views breaking through the trees of Mt. Rainier. It was stunning. For the first time on the trip one of my plans didn't work - the national park roads had been damaged by floods earlier in the season so I was sent off to the Emerald City sooner than planned. I had no other options - I could have happily turned around and gone back to the deserts which is what I nearly did. I had to find a place to live, I guess. My two-lane road suddenly turned to five. There were more cars than I had ever imagined. And then there was the city in all its gloriously intimidating manner.
Over two years later, here I am, wondering what's next.
