The plains. They're pretty great.

7-9-11 - Menno, SD

It's hot. Still 95F at 9pm. Not to mention that breeze that nearly blew me off the road the whole way here has up and vanished. Probably because this lake is in a bowl of sorts. Definitely sneaks up on you. I was following the directions and thinking, "It's completely flat out here, where are they hiding a lake?" But then you drop into a little gully and there it is: a nice little lake tucked into a hilly depression. From down at the shore, south-east South Dakota boasts gently rolling hills covered with a blanket of yellow and green tall grass, with stands of evergreens speckled throughout. Not bad. But from highway-level, it's flat as paper, adorned with the same corn/soy motif as Iowa and no doubt the rest of the midwest I have yet to traverse.

I rolled into Menno about 3:30pm this afternoon (Sat.), brimming with anticipation. Realistically I knew I wasn't about to discover long-lost celebrity relatives or stumble across a family fortune, but it's still exciting knowing that my flesh & blood was and is so rooted into the character and history of this midwest "nowhere" town.

Not surprisingly, the Menno Heritage Museum was closed. There was a list of phone numbers (including a Cindy Aisenbrey) on the door, but I had no reception, and didn't feel like rousing someone from an afternoon nap so I could look at turn-of-the-century cookware. I grabbed my camera and ambled down 5th Ave (more of a 'Main St' than the actual Main St) snapping nondescript touristy images.

The Schnitz (a 5-star dining establishment, no doubt) was closed. The Open Door Cafe didn't live up to its name. I wandered into a confusingly-labeled shop, filled with vhs tapes and fridges full of home-grown produce. The couple behind the counter struck up a conversation and ended up being a repository of information as to the history of Menno, and the Aisenbrey family. We chatted for half an hour, and they gave me phone numbers for resident Aisenbreys, and directions to an old cemetery out of town they thought might feature some Aisenbrey tombstones. Apparently the fence had been moved in when the church changed locations, evicting the long-since rotted wooden crosses that marked the graves of my great-great grandfather, Christian Aisenbrey, and his father, who now lie under row after row of soybeans. Maybe they would've liked it that way.

I located a couple other family-members I'll have to look up later, but the bugs were relentless, and the South Dakota sun was starting to forego the cloud-cover it had graced me with thus far.

[and now I have to go brave the swarms of no-see-em's and shoot the sun setting over the lake. BRB. . . . Worst. Bugs. Ever. Non-stop onslaught until I made it back to the tent. Gorgeous sunset though. Probably gonna miss some of the good post-sunset light, but I wasn't about to let those bugs lay eggs in my ears.]

So back to the story. I headed back into town in hopes that the Open Door or the Bier Garden would be open, but alas, one out-of-towner must not warrant opening the whole store on a Saturday afternoon. So, having seen what there was to see in town, I headed off to the lake to scout out a campsite. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that there were so many people at the lake (which is really just a dammed river/glorified pond) given the heat, but luckily there was still one camper spot open, so I hurriedly set up my tent and retreated, once again, to its bug-proof-ness, only to sweat my ass off while trying to read.

One hour and a gallon of sweat later, I gave up and set out to find dinner in the next town over, since every door in Menno is apparently locked on Saturdays. Olivet, SD may have played big brother to Menno back in 1900, but as of July 9, 2011, its population is soaring at 63, with a grand total of zero restaurants. Back to Menno, and the sole gas station convenience store. Unfortunate.

Now I'm back in the tent, still sweating with no sign of a breeze. Guess I'm gonna try out one of the local churches tomorrow morning, then head out for Hutchinson/Wichita, KS tomorrow afternoon. Supposed to be hotter down there. Hooray.

P.S. - Lady in yellow tanktop, from air conditioned motor home just invited me to join them for fireworks in honor of her 40th birthday. Many happy returns.

They make it look so easy, but I wouldn't live here.

I went for a walk yesterday. Iowa is flat.

3 blocks north and I ran into a soybean field.

4 blocks east I found a route out of suburbia. In some farm towns, the houses seem to be a desolate rock being pounded upon by the endless waves of corn and soybeans, and are slowly eaten away. In Eldridge, residential is on the offensive against agricultural, annexing farmland slowly enough that you wouldn't notice if you lived there.

New homes are springing up with the same uniformity as the row after row of corn stalks across the fence. It bears an eerie resemblance to a game of Sim City (Sim Farm Town?). In Tennessee, The Land is the boss, and tells the farmer where he's allowed to grow, and roads follow the contours of hills and streams. In Iowa, The Land is indifferent. You can plant wherever you want, and roads are a geometric grid.

I neglected to remember that a "country block" is usually about a square mile, so by the time I turned onto 255th Avenue, I had locked myself into a 4-mile stroll. Not a bad thing, I just had to dodge the occasional dust cloud stirred up by men in pickup trucks.

Oddly enough, I saw almost no gardens. In a land where plants are trying to grow everywhere, you'd think people would jump on the chance, but maybe a life consumed with farming is still too present in the collective memory. (I would've snacked on some of these day-lily buds, but the proximity to the inexplicably-placed port-a-pottys kinda scared me off)

Here's a picture from Grandma's wall. It's my parents' wedding (they were kinda hippies, dunno what happened).

Roadtrip update #2: Kentucky-Iowa

Eldridge, IA - 7/4/11

My windshield serves gruesome testament to the carnage I have wrought upon the insectoid populations of Indiana and Illinois this past weekend. Back in red-winged blackbird territory.

Packed up camp at Mammoth Cave National Park Saturday morning and headed off to wait for the ferry, after completing my first ever successful snot-rocket. It was pretty awesome. The route to Indianapolis took me through some great little Kentucky towns before feeding into the all-powerful Interstate.

Met the family in a suburb outside of Indy. Happy times. Some missionary friends graciously loaned us their house while we were in town for an old friend's wedding. That subdivision was something else though... Definitely apropos for the holiday, but frighteningly Pleasantville-esque. I certainly didn't feel American enough to be frequenting its manicured streets.

The wedding was on Sunday, and I tell you what, Cameroonians know how to get down at a wedding reception. It was great to see a bunch of familiar faces from the good old days back in Dakar.

The Aisenbrey caravan left this morning, making stop #1 in Freeport, IL to see my dad's mom, who entertained us with tales of nursing home shenanigans. Then it was on the road again, through beautiful northern Illinois and across the grand Mississippi to stop #2 at my mom's mom's place here in Eldridge, where I'm currently typing to the sounds of her wheezing cat, Belle, and the lonely popping of leftover fireworks.

We'll head up to Cedar Rapids tomorrow, completing phase 1 of the roadtrip, so I may not have another update for you till Saturday when I head off to South Dakota. You'll just have to get over it.