Diary of road trip from Florida to BC, Canada.

February 28 - March 20, 2001.

In Late December 2000, I drove down with my parents 1987 Volvo and my computer to Vero Beach, Florida. My parents own a small ocean front resort there called Surf and Sand, where we (family) spent Christmas and New Years. I stayed there until February 28, 2001, working on a piece of music for the Toronto Olympic Bid. After that, I began driving to Victoria, B.C. Here follows a journal of that trip.




February 28, 2001.

Here I am at the library in Jacksonville, Florida. On the way I stopped in a rest area and bought an ice cream in a vending machine that selected the correct ice cream with a hose that then sucked the ice cream with a vacuum cleaner and pulled it up and dropped it in the slot for me to pick it up. Has anyone seen such a machine? I should continue driving. After all, I have to drive across the USA.



March 1

I slept near Tasselassi or whatever it's called. Drove past Destin, which was kind of my destiny. My mother's cousin, Lois, lives there with her husband and kids. From there I'll drive to New Orleans. Will be there at the latest tomorrow. Looking forward to see "the house of the rising sun". Drove back to Destin to see Lois and her husband who was working on building the commercial area for Sandestin, which is like a separate little village for “rich” people. Rich relative to my standards anyway.



March 2

Drove toward New Orleans. Stopped at Pensacola Beach and listened to old 60's rock-and-roll that blasted down the beach. I sat in the white sand just listening and taking it in. Drove on and saw a sign to Biloxi. Was attracted to the name and decided to investigate this curious little town. Went to an art opening there. Met artists and other local people. The art was average, fairly low standard and the taste unrefined. Too many casinos and drugs? Met Lucy there who invited me to her new home in Pass Christian just west of Biloxi. Played guitar till late at night. Her house was next to the railway. Trains every 40 minutes passed by and blew whistles so load and haunting warning every living thing that death itself was rolling down the tracks of glistening steel. Then the thunderstorm came that put out the electricity. In the morning I forgot that I had seen the lights go out and was surprised to see that the clock on the stove was 11.36.

March 3 Spent all day with Lucy and her cousin Karen who lived with her after a dramatic break up with her husband. It rained all day - flash floods. We drove around Pass Christian. We looked at houses that stood high up on stilts. This was to protect the houses from tidal waves caused by hurricanes. In town, we went to galleries and other gift shops, sometimes running to the next shop to avoid the downpour. The art was somewhat tasteless. Brash colours lack of depth and any refinement. Superficial but still entertaining to see. We ate Caren's lasagna for dinner. Very good despite her lack of confidence and her many excuses.

March 4

The next morning I felt anxious to get to New Orleans. I got there mid-day and found the youth hostel located one block from the "bad" neighbourhood. I paid $5 extra for gated parking. They said they had only had two break-ins in the past twelve years. I thought those were pretty good odds and since Lucy's brother was not home I booked for the night. I ate some bread in the car before it went bad and then decided to walk the streets of New Orleans and see if I could find that famous house 'where the sun was a risin'. I found a lot of galleries, mostly touristic. I did find one gallery with very interesting art. I took their catalogue and their website. Wandered on to see several street musicians - jazz, blues etc. Great music, great feel! I should play myself but am in such a different frame of mind and frankly don't feel the blues enough. I had a Ceaser salad near the hostel. Went to bed early exhausted from miles of walking around the city.



March 5

Got up early. The day was clear blue sky. Found HW 10 and continued westward. Got to Lafayette where I wrote some of this at a library. It's strange how easy I find libraries in every town. I drive to where I feel it might be and ask someone on the street, gas station or in a store and they'll tell me "Yeah it's just around the block or down the street turn left one block and it's there. And now I am here in Lake Charles, a small town in western Louisiana, checking email at the library. Soon I'll be in the big state of Texas heading on toward Austin. I got to Houston thinking I was in Austin. I laughed at myself. Well I had another 2-3 hours to drive. Came to the youth hostel; there too late. It was closed. I slept in the car. I did not feel like driving around to find a hotel. I was tired and had already set my mind on a budget rate.

March 6

Explored Austin which the girl in the Youth Hostel said was "the city of live entertainment". I parked beside the congressional building and walked to the library to do my routine of email and diary stuff. While waiting to get on the net, I found a great book on "SmallTalk", the ultimate computer language. I am very interested in learning this to design sophisticated software for music and visual composition. I am very excited by the possibilities of this language which is way more powerful than C++ and Java according to my computer friend Gerry. A book by Simon Lewis explained the concepts so I could understand. Later I explored a couple of galleries. I went to the university and saw all the young restless ones looking to find a way in this world. There were some very good murals. I want to continue on toward Santa Fe. I drove west and sometimes north but had no map with Texas and New Mexico joined together. And there were none available in the gas stations I stopped in. So I winged it. I drove through the large country of Texas. Stopped to photograph a flock of goats as a truck pulled up to feed them. He thought I was interested in buying some.

No, I said - I'm probably the last person that would want to buy your goats. There were about 200 of them. I found the man to be very natural as Texans all seem to be. I drove north on highway 84, passed a little settlement with a gas station, a convenience store and a few houses. Shortly after I passed, I cruised another highway. Not sure of which way to go, north or west, I turned around and went in to the gas station. The girl there said west would probably be best and the old man agreed with more certainty. I took their advice and saw a sign - Star 10. 10 miles to Star, in the state of the lone star. I thought, this must mean something. Since I had been working on the star-song for ready-set-shine in Florida. I made a call to Diane in Toronto and left a message about my thoughts on this matter. I was not sure if the message went through since I could not here my own voice in the phone. I drove on as the sun was setting over this wide and peaceful country - Texas. Got onto highway 20 and drove west till 8 p.m. The sun was setting beautifully over the wide quite plains. Found a budget hotel for $31 and crashed.

March 7 Got up at 8 p.m. Had an overdue shower and sat on two pillows to do a meditation. I value my meditation. In a perfectly clear sky morning, I drove onward west on highway 20 through the vast land of Texas. There are hardly any roads that cross the main highway. Now and then one sees a driveway to a ranch. One wonders how big these ranches are with no crossroads. Red earth has begun to appear. The same red earth as in the Grand Canyon. Now I am in Lubbock, in the library in which again was very simple to find and with no problem to use the internet. I continued my long drive through the open plains of Texas. Came to a small city and noticed all the car licence plates were "New Mexico". I guess I was in New Mexico, unless all the cars I saw were from there and in Texas. Unlikely. Driving onward I passed Billy the Kid's grave and noticed the altitude was getting higher. I was on 4300 ft. At about 7 p.m. it started raining and then the snow came. It was as bad as the worst snowstorm I had experienced when I grew up in Toronto. Large flakes poured down and seemed to hypnotize one into thinking one was not moving - only the snow. Very dangerous! I couldn't see the white lane dividing lines. I pulled over to a side road and decided to stop for a while hoping it would clear. An hour later after a little map I was almost snowed in. I managed to get out and drove to the highway which was now full of trucks that had pulled over. I pulled into a gas station with stores at the turn off to Santa Fe. I decided to sleep there in the parking lot. It was cold all night. I had to keep rubbing my arms and legs to stay warm. I had long johns on and a summer sleeping bag, but it was not sufficient to keep me warm.

March 8

As soon as it was light I got up trying to get the car out of all the snow. It was still snowing. The truck driver beside me saw that I was struggling to get out but avoided me and instead got on his cellular phone keeping himself busy. Someone who had just come from Albuquerque said the road was fine a couple of miles down so I headed off and soon reached the city with a sparking clean car. After walking around the city trying to find the place where I had been before. I had slept over at a friend's girl friend's place about four years ago when I made a train trip with AmTrak to Santa Fe. I couldn't find it and left at noon for Santa Fe. Had to take a nap at a rest stop. When I got into Santa Fe, I had two hours to check out some galleries and a native american museum before closing time. There was a video; I think they called it South Western Natives or something. It was very good. It gave a good perspective to these issues. Some very well spoken people. Later I made some pasta at the hostel. I remember staying here before. Very inexpensive and plenty of free food. I wanted to go out on a Friday night, but was just too tired. I went to sleep.



March 9

My brothers' birthdays! They're all the way in Toronto. It seems so far when one drives although with an airplane the distance seems small. The sense of distance seems to be related to the time it takes to get from A to B. Today I went to explore all the galleries on Canyon Road in Santa Fe. I went down one side of the road till the end and then back on the other side. Much of the art was very colourful. Too colourful. There seems to be a lack of sensitivity to the effects of colour. If one puts down a colour A and another B. One wonders if the artist explored the possibilities before deciding. What is the ideal combination? There are of course an infinite amount of choices, but there are definitely better and worse choices and thus one can search for the best according to ones taste. This exploration of colour I found not to be refined among a lot of the art, and thus it got tiring looking at art that was often too garish. When I was in Santa Fe about four years ago, it was the third largest selling art center in the US. Now they claim it is ahead of Los Angeles, second to New York.

At six o'clock after much effort I found the Stupa (Buddhist meditation building) where they were having a special full moon Chenrezig puja (chant/meditation) at 6 p.m. There were prayer flags outside of the stupa. The lama (teacher) was very very nice. This was the longest puja I have ever been to. Two hours of chanting. I sometimes read the english translation instead of reciting and found as always the words to be deeply inspiring and very noble. I was very glad I had come there for a visit. I was the only man there except the lama. Pictures of many great lamas including Kalu Rinpoche, the Dalai Lama, Sakya Trizin and many more and paintings of enlightened ones all around reaching for the vaulted ceiling. I was lucky to be there in the presence of buddhas whose only wish is that "all beings may be truly happy!"

Later I went to some art openings I found out about in the day. I guess I was too late. There were none. Instead I went to the pub/restaurant where a band was just about to begin. They were amazing! And the dance floor was packed with women and men freeing their body with the movements and glancing at each other. I danced mostly with Valerie for from Argentina. She was an architect who had left everything in Argentina and then met a woman from Santa Fe who had helped her get settled here. There are people from all over the world in Santa Fe and a lot of beautiful native Indians. I got to bed at two at the hostel.

March 10

The sun was shining in the blue sky the next morning. I went to another Buddhist center for a teaching and meditation with a nun. It was also very inspiring and good for me. I later went back to some of the galleries to see if there was a possibility for me to show my work. Some galleries took my website so we will see what happens. The weather was strange. A mixture of hail and snow flakes which I have not seen before. People are so friendly here and I feel at home with all the buddhist centers and artists and galleries surrounded by a peaceful landscape of fields and snow-clad mountains. I am thinking of driving to Taos today or tomorrow. A place also with many artists and galleries, but a lot smaller than Santa Fe. I called Valerie for the third time at 5 p.m. and she answered and asked if I wanted to join a group of people for dinner. I said yes and slept an hour in the car in the parking lot before meeting Valerie outside of Borders bookstore, beside the restaurant. Valerie and her friend from yesterday (I forget names) and two guys also from Argentina

and a girl from the US who had had lived with an Argentinean man there for a year. They all spoke and laughed in Spanish. Valerie translated for me now and then. And sometimes they all spoke english for my sake. One of the Argentinean guys was working as a quantum mechanics engineer and the other as a plumber, although his dream was to be a beekeeper in Spain. He was a funny man. He told us of a story when he had ridden to a party several miles on a horse. After the party he had walked home and only remembered the next day that he had forgotten the horse still outside the place of the party. Another time he was invited to a birthday party of a friend. He decided to bake cookies and spent all day baking. Having no car he drove to the party in a tractor. Arriving there he felt out of place as limousines and other fancy cars pulled into the parking lot. He felt so embarrassed that he said the cookies were from a friend. I thought it would be better to have cookies than no present at all but I guess that's not how he felt. We all laughed. It seems it is part of the Argentinean culture to laugh and talk loudly. The scientist was also a body builder and he was on strict a diet. I said he could have some of my spinach salad and referred to "Poppie the sailor man". He was not amused! Later we went to a cafe for dessert. And then the girls drove me back to my car. I had no place to stay for the night since the hostel was booked solid from a weekend kids visiting Santa Fe. I did not ask if I could sleep on Valerie’s sofa, which I think would have been OK. Instead I wanted to find a cheap as possible room for the night. Later driving at night, I regretted not asking and decided to pull in an all night convenience store. I got some change for the phone and went back to the car to think if I really should call. Maybe she wasn't home yet or already in bed. As I sat in the car I saw my beekeeper friend (with the horse and the cookies) walk into the store to buy cigarettes. I go in and tell him my thought. He does not totally understand (he has only been in the US for two months). He says "you stay with me tonight". I clear the front seat of bags of food and other stuff and we drive out of the city to his mobile home. We talked and drove. After a while he said we had gone too far and turned around and had to go back almost a mile. I thought of the horse story and laughed to myself. In the mobile home there was no heat, and in the back there were two sofas with a table in the middle that he managed to detach and put between the sofas. This was to be my bed for the night. I had a summer sleeping bag, so I would freeze even with lots of clothing and lie on a hard table with my feet on a sofa and my head on the other. I tried to sleep for a half an hour. I did not want to be impolite to his invitation, but after a half an hour I got up rolled up the sleeping bag and said quietly, in case he was sleeping, that I was going to find a hotel. He understood and said "good bye friend" and shook my hand. A very nice man he is. I found an inexpensive room $31 and was happy to go to bed.

March 11

I got up at 8 and drove to the stupa on Airport road. They were doing a green Tara practice. I came there on time. There were only women, mostly older. The chanting lasted almost two hours. It was a lot longer than the one I had done in Victoria. They chanted quickly. I felt like an idiot 'cause I could not keep up. I thought of my reading difficulties as a child and of my terror to be asked to read loud in class. I just have a real problem coordinating my eye with my mouth. It was a humbling experience. After that I bought some socks and some pita bread and ham at Wall*Mart. It was snowing and cold. I decided to go back to Albuquerque and drive toward Flagstaff and then LA. Then I went to a local pub where they were playing guitar music, "gypsy king" style. I sat and talked to a snowboarder who lived in a cabin an hour from Taos.

He said some hills would not allow snowboarders. He complained about that, and I tried to be sympathetic at the same time giving reasons why they would not want snowboarders. The guitar musicians finished their brake. They were good but I thought three guitars was perhaps a bit too much. Maybe I'm too critical, but with a rising Virgo what does one expect? Then I noticed the attractive woman, who I had asked if she wanted to dance in Santa Fe last Friday night, come into the far end of the pub. She was with another woman and a flamboyant native indian. I walked up and said hello. She did not remember me or pretended not to. I reminded her that I had asked her to dance and that she immediately had taken my hand and asked me my name. She was very exotic looking. I asked her if I could sit down and got a near by chair. We talked and I felt very nervous. I could fall. The other woman and the indian were smooching like high school kids would do. When it was time for them to leave, I told Helen I wanted to spend some time with her alone before departing, so we sat on a sofa for five minutes. She invited me to visit her in Denver. I said I was not sure of which route I was taking, but was thrilled that she had asked. We said goodbye in the parking lot behind the pub/hotel. Her smiling lips like warm summer. She ran off like a schoolgirl. I drove back in the dark to the hostel 12 miles through the hills south of Taos. 10 miles down the road the weather got better and I thought it a pity not to check out Taos when I was so close. What is two more days? So I turned around and as I was approaching Taos I recognized the hostel along the road by the river where I had stayed about four years ago. He didn't really rent out rooms longer. Only long term, but he had an unclean room that he would rent for $15.

I said it was perfect. I went into town later to look for more buddhist centers. I can never get enough teachings. And I find it interesting to see the various styles of practice. Nobody knew of any center. A police officer referred me to an ashram in Geronimo Lane. As I walked in I realized it was Hindu. I went out and ran after a car that was leaving the parking lot to ask if they knew of a buddhist center. She ignored me. I remember the sign of asking people to be silent and thought she must have thought I was really arrogant. I went to the laundry mat to ask some more. A woman there tried to help and asked her son who used to visit the ashram. He also knew nothing of a buddhist center. I gave up and did my laundry instead.

March 12

I cleaned up the place folded the blankets and had some pita bread with the ham I bought yesterday at Wal-Mart. Got in the car happy to explore the galleries in Taos. The car would not start. I tried again and again, but not one explosion in any of the four little cylinders. I knocked at my neighbours and the tall taurus sculptor was willing to take a look, not knowing much myself about cars. We checked the electrical. There was a spark. He thought it was the fuel filter. He would come back to jack up the car after feeding his daughter in his house by the river. After 20 minutes he was back with. We jacked up the car but found no filter. I phoned AAA. The towing guy attached the wheels of the Volvo. He had recently moved from southern california to Taos for a change of pace. His girl friend was with him. We talked about marriage and relationships and the advantage of being free. He thought or said it was the best to be free of a relationship. The need for sex can be so powerful as to bind one into a relationship. After we delivered the car to Metric Motors, he offered to drive me to the library were I could continue my diary and email. Later I went to explore the galleries. I had fun without an anxiety of finding a gallery. I enjoyed meeting all the nice people and sometimes artists who either ran the gallery or were just there bringing in new work. I gave my website to several galleries. I enjoyed the galleries more in Taos, perhaps because it was less congested. I called about the car to see how things were going. It was a relay to the fuel pump that was not getting electricity. They still didn't know why. I called the Lama Center, but it seemed closed. I needed a place to stay for the night. At McDonald's, I asked a kid about the hostel north of Taos. He said he'd drive me. OK, I said I'd pay him for gas. Then I wondered if it wasn't better to go to the same pub I went to yesterday and get a ride later. As I was walking to the pub, I saw two men with one guitar. I asked where they were playing. They asked about the pub. I said I was going there. I found out that they were having an open stage. It has been quite a while since I played on an open stage. I was able to borrow the hostess’s guitar. There were lots of people in a narrow room with the stage at one end. Most people were talking and not giving too much attention to the performer. They called out Vif. I realized that my handwriting can be interpreted as such. It's happened several times before. I went quickly up to the microphone and said that my name was Ulf with a clear Swedish pronunciation. I played "Gone away", "Happy Song" and "Gypsy Queen". I told the audience that my car had broken down and that I had come here hoping to get a ride to the hostel north of Taos. After my set, I sat down in the front near the stage among the people that were listening the most. I asked one artist with wild gray hair who had also played if he was going north. “No” he said. The girl beside him, Myrie, said she was and would give me a ride. We left a half an hour later to the hostel, but they could only offer me a sleeping bag in a teepee. So, Myrie told me I could sleep on her floor at her place. I was thankful for that not wanting to risk getting a cold sleeping outside in a teepee. It was cold here at night. Myrie was a writer both of her own work and as an editor. Her place was very cozy and of adobe. Her bathroom had a curved wall. And two small windows at different heights with dark wooden frames. I played some guitar while sharing some tea. Then we went to bed. I slept on a mattress which we had taken from her truck. We placed it on the floor beside her bed.

March 13 Myrie got up early for a walk as she says she always does. I wish I could change my sleeping habits and get up earlier. I remember the video I saw in Santa Fe and how one woman said that her parents would wake her as a little girl early in the morning. "The good spirits are present when one is up with the sun rise,” her parents had told her. I got up at around eight as usual. Myrie offered me some porridge with rice dream, which I liked. She said she was trying to get off milk, but we both agreed that cheese would be a great sacrifice. After 10, I called to see if the car was ready. They told me to phone in half an hour. I went for a walk on the open pastures among dried up cow patties. I passed a flock of cows starring at me the way cows do. I found two dead dogs or coyotes half eaten. Walked back to Myrie's place. She drove me to get the car. The trunk was open and all the doors unlocked. It cost $170, three hours, parts labour and tax.

I was thankful that the problem was fixed. They had also fixed the automatic gear shifter wire, which was stuck before. I had not expected that so I was happily surprised. I drove to a burrito stand and then to the library. At 2, I drove to the pueblo village, which was closed to visitors. I went to buy some groceries. Met one of the guys who had been at the open stage yesterday. Drove back to Myrie's and took pictures of her place and the two dead dogs. Myrie tried my astro analysis program, which told her she was an aries, which she was. It has been quite often that the program has guessed right and within the first three guesses. Try it yourself at AstroAnalysis. Myrie and I wanted to hear my song "Stars Shining". We listened to the CD I had made in Florida. She suggested that the counting idea in verse 1 be taken up in the chorus. I agreed. And she thought "Don't ever doubt what you're all about" had unwanted connotations. I could see her point. She gave me some sage to smell to drive away negative spirits as I said goodbye. She also gave me two of her short stories. I found a tape of some songs with just guitar and voice that I gave her. I drove off north toward Denver. The road was the prettiest so far in my travels from Florida. In the middle of wide flat desert like land I see a sign Welcome to Colorado and adios New Mexico. Many signs in the little towns in New Mexico would say "Drive Safely and Hurry Back Soon!" I wondered how safe it would be to ”hurry back”. Near sunset I stopped in La Luis to look at a Church on top of a hill.

As I drove to find the road leading to the hill I saw a junkyard. I thought of the lid I had lost while lubricating the automatic gearshift wire from the power steering oil. Perhaps they had a Volvo and a lid. The old man said he had one Volvo. It was almost the same model and the lid fit. He wanted two dollars. He asked me about Canada and told me of a path one could walk up to the church. There were many sculptures of Jesus and the cross with other figures. I took some pictures of the sculptures and the Church, as the sun was almost set. I continued driving, as it got darker. When it was dark I arrived at Highway 25 north to Denver. I stopped in Pueblo an hour south of Denver and stayed at Motel 6 for $35. I had to phone the reception at 1:30 to ask my neighbour to lower the TV.

March 14

In the morning, I contemplated the words of the Dalai Lama in a little pocket book I bought at Borders Book Store in Santa Fe. He spoke of all beings having been our mother through the infinite depths of past time. Thus we should develop a feeling of respect and gratitude for all our mothers and feel compassion for their many sufferings. I thought of all the things my mother has done for me. She bore me for 9 months then fed me, nursed me, changed my diapers and taught me countless things. Think that all beings at some point in the past have done as much as my present mother toward me. I ate some pita bread with baloney, tomatoes and cucumber. And then a half of a grape fruit, checked out and then asked where the local library was. At the library, I asked what there was to do in Pueblo. “Not much, the river or the zoo”, she said. I went to the river where they had a little waterfall and benches and grass. It was sunny with a peaceful feeling. I got my guitar and went down to play some. A little girl came up with some lemonade that her family offered me that sat behind me in the grass. There was a man with long hair setting up a small PA system to play music on the other side of the river. He walked around to my side of the river and asked if I would like to play so he could hear what the system sounded like. I played the same two songs I did in Taos at the open stage. They liked it. His partner began telling me of what I should do with my music. They had a MP3 song on the net that was the very popular. Later he played and I loved the chorus. Very positive! They wanted me to play in their band. I just did not know where I was going to stay. I would like to help with that song and with other songs of his. They were good and had the potential of being hits on the radio. I got their card and gave them my website. They told me that there were a lot of places in Denver and Boulder to play. I would look up some places. The singer’s partner had played a lot and played drums, sax, flute etc. and had met Gerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead and many other famous musicians. Alice Cooper he said was the most intelligent. He could talk about quantum physics or any subject. I played along with three or four of the singer’s songs. I especially liked the one that was popular on the net. It started getting really windy so we quit. He gave me money for my contribution. I was surprised and did not want to accept it. And his wife gave me a couple of chicken sandwiches. I got in my car and continued north toward Denver. I stopped on the way in Colorado Springs and went to research the possibility to get a cellular phone and then went to the library to write some more on this. It started snowing while I was in the library. A bit later I got in the car and drove to Denver. Got there when the sun went down. I called Helen. She was not home and since I could not find the number to the hostel in Denver I drove to Boulder where they have a hostel. I went to a pub with a Guitar player in a cowboy hat and an old black man in front of an electric keyboard. It was relaxing to listen. People were enthusiastically singing along with various popular songs. "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond was a favourite. The way it builds to the chorus and then opens fully. I walked home at twelve. Passed a place were a band was playing hard-core. Four young kids. They were good. I pressed the code to the entrance of the hostel, went upstairs to room twelve where there were 5 other already sleeping.



March 15

In the morning, the sun was shining on the steep cliffs outside my dormitory window. I went down stairs, looked up some numbers to two buddhist centers. One was for the Naropa institute, which is more like a college. I will explore this today I thought to myself. And the other place offers meditation every morning and evening. I will attend the evening session. I will also see if I can play at the Penny Lane Coffee House, where they often have open stages. I drove west from Boulder into the beautiful mountains to a small village called Nederland. There I stopped to have a decaffeinated latte. On the way back to Boulder I stopped at a waterfall.

The Naropa center was similar to an art school. I went to take a shower at the Hostel for $5 since I had not booked for the night. And then to the Shambala center for meditation. I did not see any pictures of the Dalai Lama there. At 7, I went to the Penny Lane Coffee House to sign up to play at the open stage. I was to play at 9:15 pm. Before that I went back to the hostel to book for another night. At 9:20, I played "Time has no mercy", "Roxy" and "Love in this Room". The sound system was excellent. Both the guitar and voice sounded good and I felt I made a very strong performance. They especially liked the Roxy song, which was not surprising. Humour is always effective. Boulder is largely a college town with an even blend of Hippie- and Yuppieness. "Tall" coffees instead of large and that friendly yet detached cool attitude. These trends one will find in Vancouver and all the trendy Northern places. The south is different. People have less of a need to pose or of a need as being something or proving something. I found the openness and friendliness in New Mexico and Texas unsurpassed to any other place I so far had been on this short trip from Florida. I went to be bed rather early. Tomorrow I would be driving back to Denver.

March 16

Went to the library in the morning before driving to Denver. At 11 am, I called Helen from a phone in a restaurant. People are always so helpful. Helen gave me directions to her place. I found the Safeway store she said was near her place. Asked a black man where Emerald Street was. He explained that it was the street behind Safeway and then asked me for some change. I said I didn't have anything small, but would go in to get some flowers for Helen and then give him some change. I bought 10 blue lilies and gave a dollar to the man still sitting at the same spot. Waved as I drove by and found her house a minute later. Rang the doorbell. She opened. She was beautiful. We said hello to each other not knowing if we should shake hands or hug. I hugged her. All dressed up but casual with a black ornament on her upper chest. Her house was very neat and luxurious in taste. Piles of pillows on her sofa and bed. A fluffy cat, beautiful vases and decorative objects. She asked me about my miniature paintings.

I brought them in and my guitar. I showed the paintings and played her a couple of songs. As I started singing she hid her mouth behind her hand concealing a smile perhaps. I stopped playing and told her she could not hide her mouth if I was to play. I feel vulnerable enough as it is without people smiling behind their hand. I first played "Time has no Mercy". She said it was very nice. Then I played "Gone Away". She said that I could play all day and smiled. I explained about my dreams I have had about music. She thought I should just play with the band that wanted to play with me in Pueblo, Colorado. Then we left for lunch. I followed her in my car so she wouldn't have to drive me back. I had a healthy salad and some salmon. I followed her to her car. She was going to a meeting at 7.30 pm and if it ended early we would go to the movies. She does not like dancing. But she said she loves movies. After she drove off, I decided to first find a map of Denver. I went in a convenience store. The map there cost $3.95, which I thought was a lot since one could get one for free at a tourism office. So I went to look for the tourist office, which turned out to be quite difficult to find without a map. Denver, I found to be the most difficult city to navigate in. When I finally found the tourist office, which consisted of a booth on the street, it was closed.

I went to another convenience store and bought the same map that I originally was to buy. In "AvantCards" a pretty girl let me use the phone to call the "Soiled Dove", a music place recommended by the musicians in Pueblo. I got the local free paper of events and went to a cafe in a bookstore to look up music venues. I gave up after a half an hour. I could not find anything. I did however find an audition for a cross generational musical. I drove to this address but the place was closed. I then realized one had to set up an appointment first. I went to a nearby cafe to call Helen to see if her meeting was over. It was a spiritual meeting of some sort. In the café,there was a young girl setting up to sing and play guitar. I listened to her songs. She was a very good singer, especially in jazz. After the first set I felt it was time to call Helen and left. I told her she had a very good voice. She smiled. After getting change in some hamburger joint, I called Helen, but there was no answer. She was still in the meeting. I decided to check in the Denver Hostel, which was in a rowdy neighbourhood. I got one blanket. It was cold. In the middle of the night I went up to turn up the element and slept.

March 17 Got up at eight and ate. Called Helen to say goodbye. "You have my number" she said. “Yeah”, I said. After getting directions for the best route to Salt Lake City, I had a half of Danish from the woman who last night had shut her door and locked it in my face. I had asked her about the TV in her room and she felt I was coming on to her. I think it was her that was sexually interested but at the same time had feelings of guilt. Anyhow, now the next morning she was willing to invite me and everyone for Danishes that would have been thrown away if she had not asked for them in the bakery. I ate a danish. At 9 am, I headed north on Highway 25 to a little town where I tried to do some writing in the library. The St. Patrick's Parade was about to begin. I stayed and watched for a while and then tried to figure out where I had parked my car which took a while. Michael from Ethiopia was very helpful. He was also a single man. He seemed more at ease and self-contained then married men seem to be.

I went in some galleries and saw some very bad art. I had noticed that the quality of artwork is generally not high in all the places I had been. Over saturated colours is my main complaint. It's as if people have become immune to all the ugly advertising signs that bombard once vision as soon as one approaches a little town. Yellow blue red in logos on signs that often stand high on pillars. As I entered Wyoming I noticed that the signs were not on high pillars, but more on ground level and not as plastic. Wyoming was the most beautiful country I had seen so far. A very pleasant rhythm of rolling hills in soft beige tones of grass lands. I took several pictures from the car.

One town was so pleasing that I had to exit and drive around in it. The setting seems to make such a difference to the feel of a town. I still had some ways to go to get to my childhood city. I lived in Salt Lake City when I was six and seven years old. My brothers and me got lost playing in the hills and could not remember our address. The police picked us up. We were photographed at the police station and the photo was put on the front page of the local paper. Not as a notice to my parents, but as fun story. We had forgotten our address which was 777 7th avenue.

The sun was setting. I past a sign that said, Salt Lake 144. A couple of hours driving left. The final hill toward the city was the longest continuing hill I had ever been on. It kept going down, down, down for nearly 20 miles, until I finally saw a blanket of jeweled lights in a yellow and white tapestry of rows of lights stretching to my left and right as far as I could see. I pulled in the second exit and into a pizza store and asked where to find 107 F street where the hostel was. The young working girls were anxious to help. At the hostel, I wrote some on their computer and had a shower to go out friday night in Salt Lake City. After trying to find a good place to dance, I ended up at the Dead Goat. Paid five bucks along with a couple from northern Utah that were also visiting. The girl, Helly was a student from Finland. As they invited me to join them, I thought she had the serious air of being a capricorn. On the dance floor I asked her if she was a virgo. Something gave me that feeling. She was a capricorn. I told her that was my first guess, but she was not sure whether to believe me or not. She was attractive. We sat down with her friend from India. They were not a couple, just friends. I was in a cocky mood. There were some drunken girls behind me yakking away. I turned and commented that one girl was wearing green but what about the others. Another girl made some smart comment about St. Patrick being Martin Luther King or something. Later I played pool with a couple that lived in Salt Lake only because of great mountain biking and skiing. They were not big fans of mormonism. In fact the woman worked as a family therapist and said there was more child abuse per capita in Utah than in any other state. Probably due to the repressed emotions that come with the Mormon's ideology. The guy asked me about swedish hockey players that I had faintly heard of. I told them the Swedes were best in everything if one would compare with the size of the country. They accomplish more than the US in probably all human activities, sports, commercial music, science, human aid to third world countries etc. compared to the size of the country which is under 9 million people. I got kind of defensive and they wondered what was happening. I apologized. They agreed that the US was not so good. What bugs me is that the Swedes seem so unaware of the facts mentioned above, while the Americans seem so unaware that they are not the best especially if one compares to the size of their country. You may say that it seems wrong to call a country better according to these values. That may be so, but if one uses these values Sweden is far ahead of the US and likely to be number one in the world. The world has yet to see a better Skier than Ingemar Stenmark who won about 100 world championships. And where does Björn Borg rank? And Volvo and Saab and Abba and so on. Sorry, but I am tired of Swedes feeling inferior to Americans. They are not. Quite the contrary. Is this why the Swedes are adopting so many things from the American lifestyle? The Americans have a wonderful entertainment industry – the music the movies! I drove to the hostel on F Street and went to bed.

March 18 Went up at eight as usual and wrote some more in my diary on the computer at the hostel. $3 for a half an hour. It was sunday and my father's birthday. Actually, it was 77 years ago in 1924. My "birthday" was tomorrow. I wanted to go to a Mormon service. I first drove to 777 7th avenue, which was not far from where I was. Was the house still there and if so, would I recognize it? Yes, the neighbourhood seemed familiar and I felt excited as I followed the numbers on 7th street as the numbers increased. There it was. 777 in a vertical arrangement on a pillar at the side of the stairs to the front door. The top seven was hanging upside down. I took several pictures and even went around to the backyard. It was early and the morning paper was still lying on the porch steps. I also took some pictures of the street to get some reference. And some shots of the view of Salt Lake City.

I went down to the temple square to find out more about the mormonism. At 11, there was one of many sermons that began. There were several people sitting in the front facing the congregation or audience. The bishop introduced a young couple that had recently moved to Salt Lake. They both spoke of faith. The woman began introducing herself and her family and gave a personal example of faith relating to her desire to get fit and having faith in her exercise program not knowing if it would work. Then the man spoke and said that his wife had forgotten to mention something about their family. He said, "I love my wife". Then there was a silence. Then he broke into tears as his own words dug into his heart. I felt embarrassed for him. Was this love or a need to feel secure? I recognized myself and my own feelings toward several women I have known. I left shortly after.

I took several pictures of the many beautiful buildings. There was also a museum of the history of mormonism explaining how Joseph Smith had received his visions and had been chosen to establish a new christian order. There were also several paintings illustrating the pilgrimage of thousands of followers to build a new Zion in this valley.

At 3 pm I drove south to the Great Salt Lake and continued into Nevada. I drove till eight to a small casino town called Jackpot. I remember being there about eight years ago when I was on the way to a "Rainbow Gathering" in Nevada. I hitchhiked there. Another drifter picked me up in his old rundown car. He didn't believe me when I told him about the gathering. He hadn't heard of it. He thought I was tricking him in getting a ride where I wanted to go which was out of his way. But I persuaded him and as we got closer just outside Jackpot we met some other hippie types who were going there. Then he believed me. Now here I was again. I found I cheap room for under $20. It was also a very nice room. The only place to get something to eat was at one of the many casinos. There were rows upon rows of slot machines of all types with old women and men and young ones too, killing time by pulling the arm and looking at the outcome. In Swedish the machines are called “one armed bandit”. It felt as if they were really out too loose than to win. It felt as if they were hopeless and wanted luck to be the opposite. I ordered a baked potato with broccoli and cheese and a hamburger. The cheese was awful. Yellow gooey stuff with with a chemical taste. I asked if I could get a potato without cheese. At the room I watched some TV, but found it as soulless as the casinos filled with people gambling away their money.

March 19

Drove through a desert landscape. All the way from florida I had not seen any real forest except for up in the distant mountains in New Mexico. I was trying to get to Seattle tonight. I had a long drive in front of me. Perhaps I would reach there in time to celebrate my birthday in Vancouver with my sister and her boyfriend Gerrard. After only a short time I entered Idaho. There I visited two libraries but could not write anything in the diary due to the fact that they only had Netscape. Only Explorer will allow me to write in my diary. Now in Baker City, Oregon I am able to catch up with all the events that had happened. How many events happen every second? Are there a finite number or does it depend upon how one defines one event. Perhaps every event can be broken up to several shorter events. Got back on the highway and drove and drove. Crossing a bridge there's a sign Washington State. From Florida to Washington diagonally across the USA. It seems I have been traveling for years, even though it was only a few weeks. I guess all the things; places and people I have met create a different sense of time. I would not make it to Canada tonight. I felt tired and did not like driving in the night. I found a small Motel 30 miles from Yakima. The hotel manager would not tell guests to turn off the TV if they were to disturb my sleep. I thought about that. Is not the main reason for a hotel room at night to sleep?! So if there is a conflict of interest then whose interest is a priority?



March 20

At 7:30 am I hit the road. It was a beautiful day. I stopped for gas at Ellensburg on highway 90, the last highway to Seattle. A young man, Daniel asked me for a ride at the gas station. I had promised my mother not to pick up any hitchhikers, but he seemed like a nice guy. And I was not picking him up off the road. He said he was a traveling artist. In the car I asked him if he was a "truth-seeking vagabond". He smiled and said he did not like the word Vagabond. I said I considered the word to be neutral. I said I felt I was doing much the same thing. He asked me to turn off an exit. I thought he would like to get off but he wanted me to just drive through the town so he could see it. I told him that I thought it was funny that he should be directing me of where I should drive. He agreed. I said, since we are here I might as well see if there's a library. I told him I would set up an email account for him. He said he would like that. When we got to the library he decided to go for a walk while I wrote. He was going to see if he could "find" some money. After an hour we left the little town. The sun was bright in the mountains surrounding us. Daniel wanted to get off at Exit 25 toward Spokane. He mumbled something about going to California. I think he was simply drifting around trying to learn something. We reached exit 25. He wanted me to take him where he was going to stand to hitchhike. He had a hitchhiker’s trick. I pulled over. He got out and waved at the next car by leaning over the roof of the Volvo. The car stopped. He talked to the driver but he was not going far. He waved the next car and it also stopped. I guess he did know a hitchhikers trick. The third car that stopped was going far enough down the road. He waved goodbye and took his new ride. Now there was not much further to the Canadian border. I had looked up a website about importing an American vehicle to Canada. There were a lot of documents missing, but at least they would admit the car I was driving. Not all cars can be imported into Canada. I decided to tell the exact truth. No weaseling. The man asked me who owned the car. I said my parents were selling it to me. I told them of the software I bought in Florida. He gave me a slip and asked me to see an agent at the green flashing light. I pulled over and went to see a young girl that would take care of my case. After a half an hour she had filled out all the documents. I had to pay $183 to import the car, but there was no duty and no tax on the car or any of the music equipment I had purchased in the States. I felt very lucky. Now I had a pleasant drive in to Vancouver to see my sister and her boyfriend Gerrard. I got there at six pm. My trip was over. It had seemed such a long trip even though it was only three weeks. I had never had a radio in the car so I had spent much time thinkining. I think driving is perhaps the modern way of contemplation and reflecting one's life. When I started the trip in Florida the speedometer read 110232 miles. And when I parked outside Marianne's and Gerrard's place in Vancouver the speedometer read 114978 miles. The difference being 114978-110232=4746 miles. However when I checked my speedometer against checkpoints along a part of the highway in Wyoming I noticed that 31 miles on the odometer was actually only 30 miles. Therefore the actual miles is 30/31 X 4746 miles = 4592 miles = 7390 km. I had recorded all gas I had bought. The total gas expense was $232.21 US, which works out to 20 miles or 32 km per dollar.

After this trip, I looked for a place to live, and in the end of March found a small A-frame on Salt Spring Island. I am now sitting here with a fire in a small wooden stove writing this and working on my website. I have many commissions for paintings to complete and also want to record a CD.

<< BACK | top of page