wow. that's it. wow.
in honor of our current audiobook, the curious incident of the dog in the night-time, today's post will be a list of fun arkansas facts:
1) these people are proud of bill clinton. there are signs everywhere. we spent the night in hot springs, arkansas, the town clinton grew up in, which was full of markers:
2) love of clinton is more important than education. in a brochure about the town, i read that clinton's high school is now a cultural center. i did not find out if anyone built a new high school, but still- i found this transformation while the man is still very much alive and active a little surprising. we did not make it to hope, arkansas, where he was born, but even so i did feel the love.
3) despite the love of clinton, there is no love of northerners. not one bit, as evidenced by the following, found in a souvenir shop on the main drag:
this shop was full of bizarre items, including adult figures on toilets that made loud noises to add to your bathroom experience:
both the female and male figures were called, "that funny toilet guy," oddly. not as odd and distressing as another confederate bumper sticker: "yankees:1, south:0 but it's only halftime." help. despite this unabashed profession of hatred, the shop keeper was extremely friendly and welcomed us three times to hot springs in the conversation. she also offered us a map and wanted to hear all about our drive. perhaps people from the south don't include californians as yankees.
4) they've got free parking here. and they want you to know about it.
of course we still parked at a metered spot. but it was only a quarter an hour and it makes people from l.a. nervous to not pay for parking.
5) the hot springs here work kind of like the soup nazi on seinfeld.
i had read about hot springs in lonely planet's usa and canada on a shoestring and given that ian and i are both habitual bath-takers, it seemed like the ideal activity. buckstaff baths is the only remaining fully-operational bathhouse in hot springs, despite the proliferation of spas and resort hotels offering bathing services. i wanted the real thing. not only that, the price was right.
you won't see prices like that in los angeles. we opted to do the bath only. i bought the mitt as well, but lost it by the end of the process. once we had paid, having planned to step out for coffee and a muffin before the hour-long process, we found that we had been entered into some kind of irrevocable list that could not be changed and not until the manager got involved and we insisted that we needed just ten or fifteen minutes to eat anything could we go and come back. of course by the time we did so, a horde of ladies had taken over the line. the attendant shook her head sadly as she announced that i would have to wait about forty minutes. the shame of it. at least we weren't screamed at and kicked out.
once in, however, the process was very enjoyable. i had to strip in a little dressing area and put my things in a locker, at which point an attendant came and instructed me to face my locker while she wrapped me in a white sheet like a toga.
during the half hour or so i waited i met some lovely ladies from indiana, alaska, houston, and a honeymooning woman who didn't respond at first when her attendant called her new married name to bring her to the back. most of the conversation revolved around hot flashes, as everyone was about twenty years older than me at the very least.
once in the bath process, i was first shuttled into a private bath tub and instructed to sit in the warm, but not hot, water. sarah, my attendant, scrubbed my back and arms and legs with a loofah and then i was left to soak for about twenty minutes. the water circulated vigorously under the power of a jet that stuck out of the water. ian called it the boat motor. it was pretty strong, indeed.
the process continued with a sitz bath: sitting in a seat-shaped ceramic tub on a washcloth with hot water on the lower back; a steam cabinet, which i opted out of since extreme heat tends to make me light-headed, dizzy, and then vomit; hot packs, or wet hot towels wrapped around my shoulders and back, while lying on a massage-esque table and with a cool towel over my face- this was my favorite part, and finally a quick rinse with shower stream coming from all directions in a little shower. this would have been the point for a massage, but i was a little nervous about the militaristic vibe, so bath only seemed the best choice after all.
there were no otters allowed in buckstaff, but i didn't want bernard to feel left out. i let him check out our tub the night before:
5) turnip greens aren't my thing.
we ate at granny's kitchen and had a tasty club sandwich: me and meatloaf: ian. ian was brave and decided to get turnip greens as a side dish. we both tried them and decided one bite was enough. these fellas are bitter. bitter! and even with the option of "pepper sauce" -peppers in a jar of oil- we weren't tempted to go further.
granny's did have nice ambiance and lots of model planes and ww2-type paraphernalia, which was fun to look at during the meal.
6)these people do not know how to make up creative town names.
the confederate bitterness seems to extend to the south wanting its own of everything the north has. thus, we passed: ARKadelphia, pittsburgh, and oklohoNa. (isn't oklahoma technically southern? i guess it is a border state, so they weren't taking chances) we also noted that when crossing into texas, there is texarkana. clever little dispute settler. we wouldn't want arkansas to have to defend itself against texas if they tried to pull a kansas city stunt and call it arkansas city.
7) no matter what they tell you, prayer is not the best wireless connection.
he tried and tried. we got nothing and had to wait to put this up until we stopped for the night last night in waco, texas. that's right. writing this from waco. we plan to make it to austin , the oasis of sanity, by this evening. so far, texas is pretty barren and scary.
i'll let you know if austin changes my mind.
stats:
tuna melts: still 3. price of a 2br/2ba condo on lake hamilton: $174,000.00. nights spent camping: still 1 1/2 because texas scares me and there are too many bugs. chain restaurants visited by accident: 2 (dammit. who knew there was more than one papa nachos?) price of gas per gallon in corsicana, tx: $2.53 (premium- nothing but the best for my baby mini)
song of the day:
9-12: "freedom 90" -george michael.
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