Undiscovered County

The Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America - Bill Bryson (Perennial, 1989)

This was my other travel book, although I didn't get to it until the plane ride home. But it was nice to "return" to America with Bryson and his journey from the center of the country out to the edges and back again.

This isn't my favorite of the books I've read - the humor seems a little meaner somehow - but it was fascinating to live vicariously as he drove down little roads and got lost. His search for the perfect small town was marred by bland, homogenous motels and diners as well as by crassly commercial tourist traps. And yet he regularly came across beautiful and interesting sites.

Coming from California, I have to remind myself (if I bother) that there's a whole rest of the country that sees my state as pretty much a foreign land. And this was likely even more the case a quarter century ago. So I'm glad for Bryson's reminder that there's a pretty fascinating (and boring, or fascinatingly boring) land out there between the coasts.

Hiking the Appalachian Trail, pre-Mark Sanford

A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail - Bill Bryson (Broadway Books, 1998)

Thanks to a certain former South Carolina governor, I have a slightly confused relationship with the Appalachian Trail. And I also had no idea they stretched over 2000 miles of pretty much the entire East Coast. Enter, belatedly, Bill Bryson.

After spending something around two decades in England, Bryson - originally from Iowa - returned to America. And decides a good way to get back into the swing of things would be to hike the entire Appalachian Trail. He makes it sound like it was one of those decisions made mostly on a whim, and that he begin to regret pretty much as soon as he picked up a guidebook. I'm pretty sure it didn't happen quite like this, but anyway...

He and an old (desperately out of shape) childhood friend start out on the journey.

An aside: when I was 19, I found myself in Geneva for a weekend, visiting a friend who had a UN summer internship. (Fancy.) And I joined her and some friends for a daytrip to Gstaadt. As we picnicked, someone had the bright idea to go whitewater rafting. I vetoed this idea as too dangerous, but was talking into trying canyoning, "a nice little hike down to a lake with a waterfall." This was roughly in the same place and about 3 days before this happened. That afternoon was among the most grueling of my life, and I was miserable and cold and wet and scared the entire time. I was also intensely proud of myself for making it through.

This is pretty much how Bryson sounded talking about much of his hike. He definitely did not make me think that this is an adventure I should try. On the other hand, he did tell me a lot more about the geography of the area, the history and (mis)management of the National Park Service, and make me terribly envious of the type of person who would embark on such a challenge. Even more so, it reminded me how little I walk anymore, and how much I truly miss walking. (DC, I will always be grateful.)

Also, and perhaps more pertinently, Bryson is hilarious and witty and such a wonderful voice to spend time with. (As I discovered a couple years back as well.) So glad he exists.

You drive and you drive and you drive some more

In a Sunburned Country - Bill Bryson (Broadway Books, 2000)

Last week I drove about 800 miles over 2 days. It made me a little cranky, and definitely sore. But I was driving between Southern California and the Bay Area, where there is plenty to see, even on that cow country stretch of the 5. So I felt a little sheepish reading Bill Bryson in Australia, where there are regular 1000+ mile drives to get pretty much anywhere.

Bryson is hilarious. I think I knew this, but here is proof. This exploration of Australia's cities, interior, features, people, culture, etc. is the result of 3 separate trips that expose him to much (and yet still just a small piece of) the land Down Under.

Themes: Places have a lot of weird stories. And when you're on the road, you get intrigued by all sorts of roadside attractions.

Australia has LOTS of things that can kill you. Lots and lots and lots. Animals mostly. And getting lost in the desert and dying.

Bryson walks a lot. He makes me wish I were better at going offline and just walking.

He also drinks a lot on occasion. Especially when traveling with a friend.

Travel plans get messed up pretty often.

Australia is awesome, and writers get to go there surprisingly often (well, to me) for book tours.

Also, you should probably find this book just for the description of cricket. I almost fell off the couch. It's most of chapter 7, although it appears here and there elsewhere in the book. This may be one of the lazier book reviews ever, but I promise, you will enjoy this read.

Eat Pray Love

Elizabeth Gilbert's tale of her year exploring the above verbs in Italy, India, and Indonesia has been a book club favorite and enjoying a loooooooong run on the best-seller list. I am a self-styled iconoclast. If everyone else loves it, I am emphatically not interested. Until I am.

So I put it on my library hold list, and waited and waited. And then finally read it. Including reading almost the entire Italy section in one sitting after work and before a meeting. I was set to find it shallow, or silly, or obnoxiously wise. And it was those things, but it was also witty and ridiculous and honest and real. So thumbs up to Gilbert, who starts off extremely strong, and then even as it wanes in the second half, has established enough likability for the reader to see her through.

Enough. Some passages that made me smile:

David's sudden emotional back-stepping probably would've been a catastrophe for me eve under the best of circumstances, given that I am the planet's most affectionate life-form (something like a cross between a golden retriever and a barnacle), but this was my very worst of circumstances. [...] His wishdrawal only made me more needy, and my neediness only advanced his withdrawals, until soon he was retreating under fire of my weeping pleas of "Where are you going? What happened to us?
(Dating tip: Men LOVE this.)

I have to admit, I looked around when I read this, guilty, because there was a moment where I recognized this scenario a little too much. This next one though....

So Sofie and I have come to Pizzeria da Michele, and these pies we have just ordered - one for each of us - are making us lose our minds. I love my pizza so much, in fact, that I have come to believe in my delirium that my pizza might actually love me, in return. I am having a relationship with this pizza, almost an affair. Meanwhile, Sofie is practically in tears over hers, she's having a metaphysical crisis about it, she's begging me, "Why do they even bother trying to make pizza in Stockholm? Why do we even bother eating food at all in Stockholm?"

I read that and wondered, how did Gilbert ever make it past Italy? But I guess I'm glad she did.