The journey

There's so much I want to say about the journey to and back from NYC, but there's just too much so I will save what happened once I got to NY for later. I did not take pictures while in the bus because I forgot to buy a camera before I left - actually was sick the day of my departure when I had planned to buy the things I had forgotten the previous time. The digital camera I did end up buying for the mehndi and the wedding sucked, and so without photographs, I returned home to a somewhat disappointed mother.

The route to NYC: Boise, ID, to Tremonton, UT, to Salt Lake City, UT, to Rock Springs WY, to Denver, CO to Omaha, NE, to Burlington, IA, to Chicago, IL, to Cleveland, OH, to Milesburg, PA to Newark, NJ to NYC, NY with stops at points in between.

I left Boise at 11:10 pm on the 17th of October and arrived at Port Authority at 11:30 on the 20th.

The route back home: From Port Authority to Harrisburg, PA, to Allentown, PA (which will always remind me of Billy Joel), to Pittsburgh, PA, to Columbus, OH, to Indianapolis, IN, to Effingham, IL, to St. Louis, MO, to Kansas City, MO (singing Kansas City, Kansas City here I come . . . )to Salina, KS, to Denver, CO, to Rock Springs, WY, to Evanston, WY, to Salt Lake City, to Ogden, UT, to Twin Falls, ID, to Boise, and finally home - again with stops at points in between.

I left NYC at 10:15 am on the 31st of October and returned home after 10 pm on the 2nd of November.

The journey to NY was marred by the fact that I fell in Rock Springs, WY, on both knees, and traveled with bloodstained jeans for the entire trip until the final destination. But I did not let that stop me from taking in all that was within my sight. The most boring part of the journey: Wyoming. Though on the way back, as I watched the sunrise, I appreciated the stretch of the state we went through, and wondered what it would be like to stop at Little America. I think I slept through what had been for me the deadening parts of the drive. My favorite states to travel through: Utah and Pennsylvania. The rock formations and mountains were simply beautiful. Some of the pillars that stood against the formations reminded me of a discussion I had with some friends while driving through part of Eastern Oregon . . . .

We were driving around Malheur Butte and talking about the life that existed there prior to the butte and the area surrounding it being what it is today. I looked at the pillars in Utah, and imagined them to have been other life forms in one era now turned to stone.

At some point, one does get tired of seeing nothing but corn crops, and when we entered Pennsylvania, I had hoped we would see no more. The countryside was lovely, and I saw more autumn colors there than I had in prior states we had gone through. On the return trip, we went through the Blue Mountains, and the mist, along with the numerous trees in the foreground with the hills and mountains farther away reminded me of trips we took to Murree, driving through the various galis. Not saying that it is exactly like that, but that I remembered those fun times. I have always loved going through tunnels, and there are these fairly long tunnels with Kittatinny Mountain carved in above one entrance, and Tuscarora Mountain carved in above another. We arrived in Pittsburgh when it was dark, and while I got to see various buildings and constructions, I wished I had a better view in daylight. The drive through Pennsylvania remained with me for quite a while, made other stretches more bearable.

I sat next to a desi dude on the bus that was leaving from Chicago, and told him that I was assailed by this sense of deja-vu when we went through Denver. I had never ever been to, or through Denver until this trip. He told me I must have seen Things to do in Denver when you're dead.

I have not.

The cleanest Greyhound bus depot I have come across so far: Pittsburgh, PA.

The nastiest: Wow, where do I begin? Let's just say that if I ever decide to travel by bus to Manhattan again, I will not end my journey at Port Authority. Or begin it from there.

Got to sit in Trailways buses through some parts of the journey to NY. Much much better, and cleaner than Greyhound.

***
There is something about traveling on a long bus ride when more than one person is headed in the same direction. Some travelers form connections. Others look out for one another, as well as the bus driver. We had stopped at Fort Collins, CO before arriving at Denver. The bus driver opened the baggage door for the folks who were ending their trip there. I noticed the door was still open when the driver returned to his seat and fastened his seat belt, and hoped he would remember. He turned on the ignition. I tapped the shoulder of the man sitting next to me and told him to tell the driver he left the door open. He did not speak English very well so the driver did not know what he meant. I spoke up, "One of the baggage doors is still open."

Quickly, he jumped out of his seat and rushed to close it, thanking us when he returned. I had imagined various boxes and suitcases strewn on the road, had no one said anything.

On the way back home, there was this woman with a baby, who barely spoke English, or so it seemed. One had to tell her that yes, we were changing buses. I do not know why I felt that I had to look out for her, but I did have a miniscule part in making certain she reached her final destination: Topeka, KS. Which she did.

At some point I wondered why I cared if someone missed the bus because they did not follow the bus driver's instructions. Looking out for myself should have been the main focus. It was not.

Two things which are beyond obvious, but they still deserve some mention:

1) Traveling with small babies on a bus journey that lasts more than twenty-four hours is a bad idea. Never mind those of us whose eardrums are pained by the constant screeching and crying of infants and toddlers; it's much worse on the babies.

2) If you do not know basic English or how to communicate in the language, it hampers the journey through much of America. I mean, unless you enjoy the lack of independence, that's a whole other bag, but you cannot expect everyone to be there for you when you're traveling. This Latina woman should be thankful there were fellow Latinos to help her out nahiN tau she would have been stranded somewhere.

Then there are those who want everything to be taken care of for them, to not have the responsibility. I had "Special Handling" tags on two pieces of luggage, and I could have gotten more help, if I had asked for it . . . .

***
The bus journey was really long, but only boring at a few points. I really would have loved to have taken the train, but for some bizarre reason, there is no Amtrak train service through much of Oregon and parts of Idaho. I know there have been attempts to bring back train service but without success. The bus was less convenient but also less expensive than flying, and these days when it comes to choosing between convenience and expense, well, the former is worth sacrificing every once in a while. Will I be doing this again?

For a brief stretch, yes. I had hoped to stop in Denver for a few days on the way back to visit my cousin who had surgery the day before yesterday, but the elders and some cousins discouraged me once the snowstorms plowed through Colorado. After my falls last year, I am less inclined to be out in the snow and ice, so I listened to their advice - for once.

Once we got to Denver, the streets and sidewalks were all cleared, and I regretted the decision I finally made. But snow, or no snow, soon I will be on my way to D-town again, a little better prepared. And hopefully they will be prepared for ana!