Tag: mycology

Ten Things I’ve Learned from Mycelium

          Happy National Mushroom Month, everyone!!!

          I am a massive mycophile—that is, I’m obsessed with mushrooms! My passion started from a young age; a lot of kids despise the taste or texture of mushrooms, but I would happily devour them. As I got older, I learned that there are so many more options than the bland button varieties that you can find in mainstream grocery stores, and I began to experiment with gourmet mushrooms in my cooking. To date, my favorite recipes include oyster mushroom shawarma, lion’s mane “crab” cakes, trumpet mushroom “scallops,” ramen noodles in shiitake broth, and cremini risotto.

Oyster Mushroom Fried Rice

Lion’s Mane “Crab” Cakes

          I developed a craving for gourmet mushrooms that could not be satisfied by my local Kroger, so visits to Asian grocery stores and Saturday morning farmer’s markets became a weekly pastime of mine. I loved arriving at the mushroom vendor’s stand early in the morning so I could have first pick from their discount bin!

          Yet, I also love to hike, and every time I wandered into the woods, I noticed little mushrooms cropping up along the trails. For years, I wondered if it might be worthwhile to venture into the alluring, unknown world of mushroom foraging. Every time I brought it up, though, I always got the same cryptic, bemused warning: “every mushroom is edible once!”

          For too long, I waited for an experienced forager to come along and show me the ropes of their dangerous hobby. I thought that I couldn’t possibly teach myself; I needed an expert to show me how to distinguish between the yummy varieties, the deadly varieties, and the mind-melty varieties. After all, there are thousands of mushroom-producing fungi out there—I would have no idea where to start!

          Enter Skyler, my partner and self-proclaimed mycologist. Skyler doesn’t believe that silly things like “scientific qualifications” should dictate what a person can and cannot do. Early in our relationship, we bonded over our shared interest in fungi, and he encouraged me to get out there and start foraging. So, we did. Armed with our brand-spanking-new copy of Peterson’s Field Guide to Mushrooms of North America, we headed up into the foothills of Boulder, Colorado and commenced our search. 

          Our first major victory was a gorgeous family of oyster mushrooms piled together on a stump beside a creek. At the time, we still lacked confidence in our identification, so we left the bunch there for the next round of hikers to enjoy its beauty.

          Several months later, we were visiting Sky’s family in Pennsylvania when we drove past a tree with a mysterious white blob growing on it. Personally, I didn’t give it a second thought, but Skyler’s mycelial senses were tingling. He insisted that we return to the tree the next day, and sure enough, it was a massive growth of the alien-like Hericium Coralloides, or Coral’s Tooth Fungus! We still weren’t positive about our ID, but our meager few months of foraging had taught us that there are no poisonous Hericium varieties; even if we were wrong about the species, it was still edible. I cleaned the mass thoroughly, sliced it into thick steaks, and fried them up with some butter. It was on that day that Sky and I tasted our first wild find. I lifted a forkful of the mystery mushroom to my mouth and took a cautious nibble. It tasted like…chicken? I waited a moment to see what would happen. When I didn’t immediately pass out, I took another bite, and then another. It had a crisp, woodsy flavor that I had never experienced before—similar to the button mushrooms I had grown up with, but stronger, more intoxicating. I offered a plate to Sky’s parents, who graciously declined; they were obviously not as confident in our foraging abilities as we were. Fair enough.

          Well, I am pleased to report that I did not die from eating the fruits of that forage. Ever since that day, I have been honing my foraging skills and growing more confident in my ability to identify edible species. The mycelium have taught me many things over the past few years, and I am happy to share some of their wisdom with you, here:

1. Looks Can Be Deceiving

          One of the trickiest things for new foragers to navigate is the many mushroom lookalikes. Sky and I often refer to this meme when trying to identify a new species:

          Take, for example, the loveable oyster mushroom. This fungus is prevalent throughout North America and considered a “choice” edible—that is, it’s delicious and versatile! But it closely resembles the Angel’s Wing mushroom, which is deadly poisonous, and the two are not easily distinguished by visual markers.

Can you guess which one is the Angel’s Wing?

          Similarly, there’s the sought-after chanterelle, identified by its vivid orange color and concave cap. Yet, it is easily mistaken with the toxic Jack-O-Lantern mushroom, which shares those very same characteristics and can also induce severe gastrointestinal distress.

This is a trick question; neither of these are chanterelles or jack-o-lanterns 🙂

          Take heed, amateur foragers: even if you feel quite confident that you’ve discovered a well-known, safe species, you should always cross-reference between at least two sources. I prefer to compare my Peterson’s Field Guide, which has illustrated images, with my regional guide, All That the Rain Promises and More, which includes color photographs. If I’m still unsure, I take a spore print and turn to my trusted mycological Facebook groups.

         Besides, looking at a mushroom is rarely enough to positively identify it. If you ever flip through a fungal field guide, you’ll notice that identification often employs many senses. For example:

  • The Gap-Tooth Webcap smells faintly of radishes, and the Ivory Cavalier has an odor of cracked wheat. The Beach Brittlegill smells like maraschino cherries!
  • The Orange Stump Mushroom, despite its name and corresponding color, drops purple-brown spores. The Lilac Bonnet has spores which are white or cream in color, even though its cap and stem are a light purple.
  • The Fragile Brittlegill will crumble easily in your hand, as its name suggests; the Scarlet Brittlegill has a thin layer of pink skin that can easily be pulled off its cap.
  • The Greenspot Milkcap has a tacky texture while young, which dries as it matures; the Almond Waxycap is sticky and smooth, but only when wet!

          Too often, my friends send me blurry photos of mushrooms with their ID requests. Regretfully, I can rarely identify a fungus without investigating its texture and durability, the color of its cap, stalk, and bruises, the way its gills connect to its cap, the earth or wood which it grows from, or its spore print. Just as you should never judge a book by its cover, you should never try to identify a mushroom by a first glance.

          Here, I must make a disclaimer: DO NOT EAT ANYTHING THAT YOU ARE NOT 100% SURE ABOUT! And please do not hold me liable for your foraging fumbles 😊 This article is purely for entertainment purposes: I encourage all aspiring foragers to first venture out with a more experienced hobbyist.

2. Water Gives Life; So Too Does Fire

          The best time to go foraging for mushrooms is after a good rain. Mushrooms are merely the fruiting body of a much larger organism, the mycelium, which grows underground. Moisture seeping into the soil creates perfect conditions for mycelium to reproduce, indicating that NOW is the right time to push mushrooms out of the ground and spread spores, with the hopes of spreading or strengthening the mycelial colony.

          Yet, mycelium is a complex organism that responds to many ecological factors, not just water. And of course, with hundreds of thousands of species of fungus out there, they each respond to a different set of factors during different seasons. Some need light, while some prefer to be shrouded in darkness. Some are particularly picky about soil pH, while others will literally grow out of concrete. An excellent example of this complexity is the coveted morel. Morels are notoriously hard to cultivate, hence their high selling price, but we mycophiles get quite a laugh every spring, when unsuspecting gardeners find massive patches of morels in their landscaping beds. They’re unpredictable, as mushrooms are wont to be.

NOT a morel! This is a stalked puffball.

          Perhaps one of the most beautiful facets of the fungal kingdom is the Burn Morel. As its name suggests, this morel variety appears in burn sites in the years following a wildfire. The morchella fungus maintains a mycorrhizal relationship with conifer trees at any given time, just as other mycelium live in harmony with other types of forests. However, morchella (morel) mushrooms only fruit after a wildfire! Professional mycologists remain baffled by this phenomenon. However, it is safe to assume that wildfires return certain nutrients to the earth, such as carbon, which create the necessary conditions for burn morels to flourish. Unlike “natural” morels, burn morels are remarkably reliable and incredibly prolific in fresh burn scars.

          Burn morels draw a striking parallel to one of my favorite aspects of Hindu/ Yogic mythology: The Destroyer. Unlike many Western philosophies, the Hindu tradition acknowledges death and destruction as an integral part of the cycle of life. There are two main destroyer gods: Shiva (male) and Kali (female). In their respective myths, both gods are responsible for burning the cosmos at the end of each age to make way for new creation. Much like the burn morels that surface after a period of great ruin, Kali and Shiva destroy the world so that life can begin anew.

3. Manage Your Expectations

          Early in my foraging journey, I had such high hopes for every expedition. I thought that the choice edibles must be out there, if only I looked hard enough. I turned over every log, peered under every leaf, spent half of my searches clearing brush in the hopes that I would find just one morel.

          Sometimes, it doesn’t matter how hard you seek—there’s simply nothing to be found.

          As I mentioned before, mushrooms need precise conditions to fruit. Usually, it’s too dry; sometimes it’s too wet, or too hot, or too shady, or the mushrooms just aren’t feeling it that day. It pays to know where and when to look, but it also pays to manage your expectations. There will be days when you don’t see a single fruiting body, and there will be others where you can’t take three steps without seeing one. It all balances out.

          Moreover, I have come to learn that a successful foraging journey isn’t always one that ends with a basket full of edibles. Yes, it’s nice to have something to show for my hard work (and to save some money on groceries!), but the fungal kingdom is a wild, whimsical world, full of plenty of fantastical species that are not meant to be eaten. Consider, for a moment:

  • A freshly emerged Amanita, the remnants of its veil stretching and tearing as it reaches towards the sky?
  • A velvety bolete, its stem bruised blue from close encounters with its forest kin?
  • An aged inky cap, its gills auto-digesting into pitch black sap that drips down in slow motion?
  • A razor-thin row of mazegills, curling themselves into a pristine Fibonacci rosette?
  • A series of fluted bird’s nest fungi, their tiny cups filled with impossibly small spore eggs?
  • A blood-red russula, its cap melting and disintegrating into grey ooze as it is reclaimed by the earth?

          When you stop searching the forest for only the things that benefit you, you can start to recognize the magic inherent to the natural world. In this way, you are sure to be amazed by every romp in the woods, whether or not you come home with dinner.

Come roll in all the riches all around you, and for once, never wonder what they’re worth!

4. Strive to Be Misunderstood

          Mycelium is the primary decomposer of nature; its role is to break down decaying matter and return its energy to the ecosystem. As such, mushrooms tend to get a bad reputation as being associated with death and decay. While that may be true, we could not survive without mycelium—toxins would build up, poisoning our planet with stagnant compounds and odors of rot. Energy cannot be created nor destroyed, only transferred. Mycelium is the OG recycling facility—it undergirds all biological transformation and enables all life to continue.

          Besides that, mushrooms are neither plants nor animals—they’re a secret third thing: fungus, of course!

          We humans have more in common with fungus, genetically speaking, than we do with plants. That is because animals and fungi evolved from a common ancestor about 1.1 billion years ago. We also have fungus to thank for plants; when plants were first migrating out of the oceans, they lacked the root systems necessary to survive on land. They enlisted mycelium to act as their roots, transporting nutrients from soil to foliage, until the plants evolved to do so on their own. Mycelium is truly magical!

          I am totally and utterly enchanted by fungus, but not everyone feels the same way. Many people turn their nose up when I mention mushroom pizza; still others’ eyes bug out of their heads when they hear that I’m serving up my fresh wild finds. If I’m honest, I like it that way—more mushrooms for me!

5. The Devil is in the Details

          Mushrooms are sneaky! You’d be hard pressed to walk through the forest and not spot a tree or a bird or a rock. On the other hand, you could easily hike for several miles without ever spotting a fungus.

          Mushrooms thrive in the moist, shadowy undergrowth: some live lonely lives underneath the leaf litter, while others crowd together in cramped clusters on the dark side of fallen logs. 

          Sure, some mushrooms are divas, like these scarlet bonnets that appeared in the middle of the trail near my house in urban Seattle:

          But most mushrooms are shy things, hidden away behind brush and brambles. If you’re looking for the good stuff, you better be willing to wander off the beaten path and get your hands a little dirty. Sometimes it’s all about the angles—you may not spot a ground-level mushroom from your usual standing height, but if you crouch down, peer through the vegetation, tilt your head, close one eye…okay, close the other eye, visualize it in your mind’s eye…and then, poof! You may just spot something that you never could have caught on your casual forest stroll.

6. Every Day is Precious

          Beyond the gamble inherent to eating mushrooms, I know many foragers who avoid mushrooms because they prefer the longer harvest seasons of other edibles: 2-3 months for blackberries, 4 months for rosehips, and 6-9 months for dandelions, to name a few Washington natives. By contrast, mushrooms are ripe and ready to harvest for a much shorter period: typically 1-3 days. This, of course, depends on the mushroom species—some amanitas, for example, take 24-48 hours to fully unfold.

Two photos of the same mushrooms, taken 24 hours apart.

          Polypores, on the other hand, may live many months to many years, but their tough, leathery form makes them unsuitable for eating. It’s best to leave these fungus friends to their important ecological roles: parasitizing and breaking down dead trees.

          Regardless, after the first flush, foragers have a very quick turnaround to get to fungal fruits before the other critters do. Day 1 is prime time to harvest your finds, which is why you should always head out on that first day after a rainstorm. Day 2 is when various forest factors begin to take over: bugs, mold, and dirt, among others. By day 3, most mushrooms begin to decompose, their fragile parts overtaken by the elements. Spores scatter; stems splinter; caps crack; the fruiting body liquefies itself, all too ready to rejoin the pine needles and crisp leaves marinating in the morning dew. By this point, it simply isn’t worth your effort to harvest, and you’d be better off waiting for the next flush.

7. Never Mind a Hitchhiker

          If you can’t handle a few bugs, mushroom foraging probably isn’t for you…

          …’nuff said. 

8. Not Every Mushroom is Magical

8. Every Mushroom is Magical!

          I think I speak for every mushroom forager alive when I say…

          Stop assuming that we’re searching for psychedelic mushrooms! Psychoactive mushrooms constitute an inconceivably small fraction of the entire fungal kingdom.  While psilocybes are native to every continent, so too are thousands of other fungi, many of which have amazing edible and medicinal properties that oft go overlooked. Fungus is the future: from cleaning up oil spills to curing terminal illnesses to protecting honeybees to solving mazes to crafting sustainable materials, the benefits of fungus far surpass the mental/ emotional/ spiritual benefits that may be gleaned from psilocybin therapy—although I do not at all mean to downplay the incredible healing potential for psilocybin medicines!

          What I mean to say is that all mushrooms are magical, not just the ones that make you see God. Besides, if I always went out searching for magic mushrooms, I would be disappointed nearly every time.

9. Trust Yourself!

          You don’t have to go foraging with the intention of eating whatever you find. Why not just venture into the woods and see what you encounter? Trust that you’ll see something incredible, and you will!

          If Skyler had never convinced me to call myself an amateur mycologist, I might never have gone out in search of mushrooms. If I hadn’t worked up the nerve to try that Coral’s Tooth Fungus from a random tree in Quakertown, Pennsylvania, I might never have developed the self-confidence to make my favorite meal, oyster mushroom shawarma, every time it rains near my house. If you never try, you’ll never know. Trust that you’ll learn as you go—and if you don’t, at least you’ll have gotten out of the house.

10. We Are All Connected

          Mycelium is the largest organism in the world. It weaves neural networks in the ground, stretching and winding for miles underneath every step we take. We may only see it when it fruits, but trust and believe that there is fungus among us—literally everywhere we go, from the untouched old growth forest to the most densely populated metropolitan hubs.

          Even more incredible is the wood-wide-web, a network of mycorrhizal fungi that maintain a symbiotic relationship with tree roots. Trees and mycelium live together harmoniously; the fungi feed on decaying plant material, while the plants use the mycelium to communicate, warning one another of pests, drought, disease, and even allowing mother plants to share nutrients with their offspring, thus ensuring the longevity of the ecosystem. Mycelium connects the forest just as it connects us; by learning from, using, and loving fungi, we enter into symbiosis; we partake in the massive mycorrhizal network that links forest to forest, region to region, continent to continent. Indeed, we are all connected, and my short stints in the woods are mere reminders of our implicit interconnectedness.

          Just a few days ago, I visited Mount Rainier National Park in my home state, Washington. As I wandered along a low elevation trail in the dewy morning air, I encountered a small bolete. I was fascinated by the way its yellow stem bruised deep blue under my touch; I crouched to snap a picture of its brilliant polychromatism.

          Just as I did so, a family of three walked up behind me: a mother, a father, and a young girl of about 10 years. The girl bravely asked,

            “Do you know what kind of mushroom that is?”

            I admitted that sadly, I had forgotten my field guide at home; I couldn’t be sure of its edibility without a positive identification. After asking her what she knew about mushrooms, I showed her the bruising on the stalk and explained the process of fungal auto-digestion. She listened carefully, wide-eyed, nodding along occasionally. Then, she turned to her parents and said, with an air of self-assuredness impressive for a girl of her age,

            “I told you she was a mushroom person.”

            I will carry this title like a badge of honor: mycelium has taught me so much, and I am very proud to be a mushroom person!

11 Quirks of Seattle

          Hello friends! As I am sure many of you know, I recently moved to Seattle, and it has taken every single one of my feeble brain cells to figure out this city. I traveled a bit before my move, but I’ll write about those adventures later—for now, I am completely enamored with the Pacific Northwest, and I thought it would be fun to share the first eleven quirks I noticed about this city.

Ever-Greenery (+ Pesky Ivy)

            I was immediately struck by it on the drive up from Colorado. My Northwest-bound route was mainly monotonous: desert and dry shrub throughout Western Colorado, Northern Utah, Western Wyoming, and Southern Idaho. But as I wound down dark roads through Eastern Washington with a Uhaul trailer in tow, I found myself suddenly enveloped in lush forest. A light rain greeted me, alluding to the countless warnings I had received about Washington state’s climate. The towering hemlocks, firs, and cedars welcomed me in a way that Colorado’s flora never had.

            After being here for a few months, the greenery continues to be the most comforting aspect of West Coast city life. I am incredibly fortunate to live half a block away from a forested park with over five miles of trails—my urban oasis with a surprising amount of foraging potential. I won’t even get into the insane greenery I saw on my recent trip to the Olympic Peninsula, which shall be a whole article of its own.

            A good chunk of Seattle’s greenery comes from English ivy, which is quaint & cute cottage-core vibes….until you realize that it’s a rampantly invasive plant to this region. It takes over everything. I guess it’s good for the wildlife, though, because the ivy patch in front of my apartment is home to a family of large rats. Super fun for my cats, not so much for me.

Go Huskies!

          Besides my unsatiable thirst for exploration, I was drawn to Seattle by a very exciting development: my acceptance to graduate school! Starting in the fall, I will study comparative religion and women & gender studies in South Asia. I am looking forward to building on my undergraduate research in Hindu women’s rituals and incorporating my new studies into my Yoga practice. The best part is that I’ve been offered a Foreign Language and Area Studies fellowship to complete this degree in exchange for studying Hindi (which I was going to do anyway).

            I am also unbelievably lucky to have found an apartment near the university district in Seattle, so I live within walking distance of campus, and I am constantly surrounded by college culture. Though I don’t start classes until the end of September, I can tell that University of Washington (colloquially known as U Dub) students are full of pride in their school, and I am extremely optimistic about the faculty I will be working with during my two-year program.

Skyler and our cat, Big Handsome, settling in to our new apartment near University District, Seattle.

Land Acknowledgements

          Seattle occupies the traditional land of almost thirty indigenous American tribes, and the people here seem more aware of our continued colonization than most other places I’ve lived. I encounter land acknowledgments to the Coast Salish people and the Duwamish tribe almost everywhere I go, from natural landmarks to touristy urban destinations. I especially appreciate the ones at Snoqualmie Falls, which emphasize that sacred sites and resources were stolen from Indigenous Americans and commodified by colonial settlers. The Snoqualmie (meaning “moon” in Salish) region encompasses vast fertile valleys and a 268-foot waterfall, which was once coveted by indigenous Americans as a source of natural abundance and the birthplace of many formative myths. These myths speak of the Moon Transformer, Snoqualm, who birthed fire and trees from the sky unto the earth. The Moon Transformer receives offering from the falls’ water, so the land surrounding the falls served as ceremonial grounds and burial sites for the Snoqualmie people.

            Unfortunately, the Snoqualmie land was settled by pioneers in the 1850’s, whereupon it was pillaged by loggers and later channeled into an underground power plant. Those hydroelectric generators still exist and operate today, appropriating the sacred energy of the Falls to provide electricity for surrounding areas. The natural marvel of Snoqualmie Falls, along with the power plant, continue to draw hordes of tourists that impact the remaining members of these indigenous tribes, as well as land back efforts.

          While hiking at the falls, I was grateful to see plaques that were truthful about the power plant’s ugly history. Yet, written statements seem a feeble consolation for the native peoples’ loss of land, resources, and rituals. I wonder whether these acknowledgements are backed by tangible social action, and I must ask myself how I can make reparations to these indigenous Americans as I reside in their territory.

Water Water Everywhere

          The wonder—and sometimes the terror—of living in Seattle is being surrounded by formidable bodies of water. Flanked by the Puget Sound to the West, Lake Washington to the East, and Lake Union in the North, there is never a shortage of water activities. I haven’t spent much time on the water since my summer in Tennessee, so I am soaking up my proximity to the ocean. Each morning, the tide recedes, making way for my newest hobby, the sister science to foraging in the woods: tidepooling!!! So far I have spotted anemones, starfish, hermit crabs, harbor seals, and sea otters all within thirty minutes of my apartment. I have never been an ocean girl, but I have a feeling I’m about to become one.

            Lake Washington and Lake Union teem with wildlife, as well. Kaleidoscopes of swallowtail butterflies perch on the sandy beaches (fun fact: a group of butterflies is called a kaleidoscope!) while beavers build dams and Great Blue Herons dive for fish in the clear waters. I’ve been channeling my inner duck when I paddleboard through swampy enclaves.

Seattle Freeze

          Okay, ouch. People warned me about this phenomenon before I made the big leap, but I wasn’t prepared for the honesty of the expression. “Seattle Freeze” refers to the tendency of Seattle residents to be cold, distant, and unwilling to make new friends. This disconnect has obviously been challenging for me as I attempt to find my people in this city. Seattleites aren’t downright mean—no, the freeze manifests in subtle ways, like the total rarity of smiles shared between passersby. The grocery clerk never asks me how my day is going, which isn’t an earth-shattering tragedy in and of itself, but my inability to connect with strangers has certainly hindered my transition. I’m used to the welcoming warmth of Coloradoans and the sickly-sweet hospitality of Midwesterners, so I’m curious to know why Seattle hardens everyone here. I fear I’ll succumb to the freeze if I stay here too long!

Skyler has been helping me ward off the Freeze!

Native Fruit

          My mom grew up in Tacoma, Washington and I fondly remember picking cherries from a tree in the backyard of her childhood home. Growing up in sub-desert Colorado, though, I always imagined that a backyard cherry tree was an unusual luxury, even in Washington. I could not have been more wrong. In hunting for mushrooms, I accidentally stumbled into the cherished PNW tradition of native berry picking. It was impossible to ignore—as I reached through thick brush to harvest an oyster mushroom, my hand met with a bushel of orange berries. I soon came to identify these enticing morsels as salmonberries, edible native fruits that have long been enjoyed by indigenous tribes. The Salish people ate the young plant shoots and the berries (which resemble salmon roe) with dried salmon, hence the name.

          Once I worked up the courage to put my fruit identification to the test (by eating them and not dying), I discovered that the PNW is rife with streetside pickins. I have since found native thimbleberries, huckleberries, salal berries, raspberries, grapes, cherry plums, and blackberries—OH, the BLACKBERRIES. They are everywhere. The native species, rubus ursinus, is harder to spot as it grows close to the ground, but the invasive and incredibly noxious Himalayan blackberry has taken over every street corner and city park. While most edible berries have now gone out of season, the Himalayan blackberries are just now starting to ripen. I plan to take this opportunity to perfect my jam recipe. I have also honed my ability to spot poisonous berries, including snow berries and deadly nightshade. A tip for foragers across the world: 99% of aggregate cluster berries (like blackberries and raspberries) are edible, so munch away!

Cultivated Fruit

          Finding free fruit on the streets is a novel thrill for me, but I have also noticed that people in Washington are crazy about their fruit in general, even the non-native cultivars. I moved to Seattle in time for peak fruit season, July through September, during which grocery stores and farmer’s markets boast fresh, locally grown peaches, apples, cherries, and numerous other stone fruits. If you’re lucky, you can catch the fruit vendor just after his daily delivery and enjoy divinely juicy nectarines that were picked and shipped from Yakima that same morning! Rainier cherries are the main summer craze, hailing from Washington state and named for the region’s beloved glaciated peak, Mount Rainier.  I never would have guessed that two species of red cherry could combine to produce a new fruit that makes every other fruit’s taste and aesthetic value pale in comparison. Nonetheless, I have hopped on the Washington fruit bandwagon, and I now indulge in melt-in-your-mouth white peaches every morning for breakfast.

Pike Place Market, the quintessential place to buy fresh Yakima fruit. The market is traditionally known for seafood, but in the summer, vendors stand in the walkways and slice fresh chunks of nectarines for passerby to sample.

Daily Commute

          I knew Seattle traffic was dreadful, but nothing could have prepared me for the haphazard road infrastructure, which necessarily accommodates odd land shapes formed by surrounding bodies of water. The specifics of the driving terrors I have encountered are not important, but I have finally drawn a conclusion as to why driving is so frightening here. I have driven through more than half of the states in the U.S.., and I find the middle states to be the easiest to navigate. Driving in East coast states like New York and New Jersey can be intimidating due to urgency and aggression on the road, while driving through the American South can be mind-numbingly slow and boring.

          Somehow, driving through Seattle encompasses the worst aspects of both extremes. For some downfalls, I question the urban developers—why do they hate turn lanes? Why don’t they understand what signage is relevant? Why is the speed limit 25 MPH on every road? Most of the time, however, I ask myself about the people that commute in this city. Drivers, pedestrians, and cyclists alike seem to have very little regard for their own fragile lives. Suffice to say that my Yoga practice has become even more integral to my daily commute.

I pass the Japanese Garden in the Washington Park Arboretum every day on my commute to work. 

Ethnic Cuisine

          Seattle boasts diasporas from many nationalities (namely from Asia and Pacific islands), so it comes as no surprise that the cuisine of the city is likewise diverse. Yes, there are espresso shops on every corner, but no one talks about the boba tea shops, of which there are twice as many. Indian food, Ethiopian, Thai, Vietnamese, Mexican, Italian…I could go on. If you want it, you’ll find it in Seattle. I haven’t done too much foodie exploration yet, but I do enjoy living near Din Tai Fung, a tantalizing dim sum restaurant in University Village.

The Rain (or lack thereof)

          Ah, yes, the dreaded Seattle gloom. Before my move, I met so many people who lived in the PNW and moved away because they couldn’t stand the climate. Some emphatically advised me to get a “Happy Lamp,” while others just shook their heads and said sadly, “you’ll never see the sun.” I heeded their forecasts and bought a light therapy lamp off Facebook Marketplace as soon as I got into the city. The previous owner told me she was moving out-of-state: “somewhere sunnier,” she bragged, referring to Colorado. Indeed, Colorado boasts 300 days of sunshine, which makes even the coldest, snowy winter mornings feel bright and beautiful. In the meantime, Seattle was prophesied to be dreary all winter without even a good powder day to ease the pain.

          I worried that constant overcast skies would affect my mood and my spiritual practice, but I came at a good time. The daily rains subsided in early June, and since then we’ve had an *uncomfortably* dry and hot summer. Historically, Seattle summers haven’t even been hot enough to warrant air conditioning in private residences. It’s temperate here year-round, traditionally with highs in the 80’s and lows in the 30’s (Fahrenheit). Sadly, climate change has brought heat waves over the city for the past few years, and this summer was no different. For two weeks in mid-July, temperatures passed 100 degrees every day, and Sky and I scrambled to keep our cats and reptiles cool with only a couple of fans.

       I know I’ll regret saying this come January, but I’m looking forward to the Seattle rain that I was promised. We’ve had the occasional morning shower, but the lack of moisture is seriously impeding my current favorite hobby, which is of course…

MUSHROOMS!!!

          My love for mycology was undoubtedly the #1 driving factor behind my West coast relocation. Sky and I have been getting more confident in our identification abilities recently, so we were itching to test out our skills in new territory. The timing of our move was perfect because we had an excellent month of spring mushrooms before the forest dried out. The park near our apartment has proved fruitful for smooth puffballs (edible), scarlet bonnets (inedible, but stunningly beautiful), and fly agarics (poisonous and psychoactive). My favorite spot so far is an adorable mossy clearing that flushes with oysters (edible and choice!) almost every week. Though we haven’t found much during the dry season, September is sure to bring enough moisture for the mycelium to fruit. I’m hoping for chanterelles this autumn!

          Have you noticed the trend in my observations? I’m not sure that I’m cut out for city living…driving is unpredictable, a dark winter is coming, and let’s be real—shit’s expensive up here. Unsurprisingly, nature has been my saving grace. Whenever I need to escape this urban enigma, I can venture into the woods or hop on my paddleboard.

          My Yoga practice has also been integral for my sanity throughout this wild transition, and I am proud to announce that I began teaching at a new studio called Shefa Yoga Roosevelt! I am so grateful to have this studio and community as I get oriented in my new life. I also adore having students who are receptive when I share traditional aspects of Yoga such as mythology, philosophy, and subtle body attunement. If you happen to be in the Seattle area and would like to practice with me, I teach on:

Tuesdays @ 6:00 AM

Saturdays @ 4:30 PM

Sundays @ 9:30 AM

            I get one buddy pass for each class, so please reach out if the drop-in cost ($25) hinders your ability to practice. I would love to move and breathe with you, as well as hear your thoughts about Seattle. What did you notice first? Do you like the rain? What’s your least favorite thing, and why is it the driving?

          Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for more on yoga & adventures in Seattle!

Honorary Mention: St. John's Wort, a beautiful flowering plant that grows everywhere here. Used medicinally in many cultures for thousands of years, clinical trials now prove this herb's effectiveness as a mild antidepressant. 

Country Roads

            Hello, friends! I apologize for being MIA…I have been applying for *grad school*. I won’t say too much, lest I jinx my chances at admission, but I am very much looking forward to moving to a new state and embarking on this new academic adventure. Now that the application deadline has passed, I can get back to chronicling my cross-country road trip last fall! Oh yes, we have several more destinations to cover.

            We left off in Washington D.C., where I speed ran the National Mall and was left craving several more days in our nation’s capital. I left my parking spot in the city (that garage had started to feel very homey!) and made the short drive across state borders into Virginia. I camped in my car that evening, and the following day brought new adventures of the national park variety!

Shenandoah National Park: Virginia

            On my days in the national parks, I got in the habit of starting early at the visitor center. I picked up a map, enjoyed the views from the accessible scenic overlook, and enlisted a ranger’s help to figure out which parts of the park would be best for mushroom foraging. Unsurprisingly, the ranger had to ask another ranger, and then another, until they all eventually admitted that none of them had any idea. But they pointed me to their favorite trails, which was a good start.

            I ended up on a quiet wooded trail that eventually led me downhill to a gentle creek. I didn’t have much luck in my fungus hunt until I moved to sit at the edge of the water. As I turned to step over a tree’s exposed roots, I discovered that its North-facing side was entirely covered in fungus! I spent a long moment sitting on a fallen log and admiring the forest before heading back to my car.

            I pulled off at a picnic area and broke out my camp stove for the first time on my journey. I prepared a simple meal of gnocchi and red sauce—the ingredients for which I had saved from Trader Joe’s in Columbus. As I enjoyed my lunch, I found a great deal of amusement in watching a toddler boy attempt to escape his parents by sprinting into the woods.

            Then, I took a peaceful, winding drive down Skyline Drive, the road that runs 105 miles North to South along the crest of the Blue Ridge mountains. I pulled off at a scenic overlook near the middle of the park and camped out for a few hours to watch the sunset. Upon awkwardly crawling out of my Subaru’s moon roof, the top of my car offered stunning views of the Blue Ridge mountains, as well as a very good fluffy boy. I sat there long enough to discover that this little dog’s name was Leonardo Davinci, and that Davinci was not, in fact, the original inventor’s last name, but rather a notator of his hometown (da Vinci, meaning “of Vinci,” a city in Italy). I also befriended Leo’s owners and had an all-around lovely time watching the sun illuminate the hills in brilliant hues of reds and oranges.

New River Gorge National Park: West Virginia

            The next day, I was on to another national park—the one most recently added to America’s roster! Having only been named a national park in 2020, much of New River Gorge remains private property. A railroad runs straight through the park, sectioning off natural landmarks in ways that are occasionally confusing and frustrating to navigate. As became my tradition, I asked a ranger to recommend a trail for fungus hunting and was sent to a short trail just across the highway from the visitor center. ‘Twas a lovely hike, but not so fruitful for my mushroom endeavors. I then wound down the highway, taking a discrete side road that led me many miles into the hills and away from cell service. The drive was somewhat disorienting; the views were beautiful, but at any given moment, I had no idea whether I was ambling about on federally owned land or if I was accidentally trespassing on someone’s private property. I did eventually make it to my destination: a trailhead/ picnic area/ stunning, secluded beachfront to the New River and its respective gorge. I recycled leftovers from the day before to prepare lunch out of the back of my car, then walked down to the beach and had the whole stretch of river to myself. It was absolutely one of the highlights of my trip.

            After lunch, I followed the trailhead that led away from my private beach. It led me on a gander through the woods along the river, and I came to appreciate why this Appalachian oasis had been deemed one of our country’s natural treasures. I had been to West Virginia a few times prior to this trip, and admittedly I had come to view the state as unforgivably strange. Even still, my time in New River Gorge was incredibly introspective, awe-inspiring, and I would go back in a heartbeat.

Spiritual Materialism: Asheville, North Carolina

            Night 3 of car camping in a Walmart parking lot completed, I set off for my most anticipated destination. I was greeted by Jess, one of my friends from when I lived at a marina in Tennessee. She had been dying to show me around Asheville ever since I expressed interest when we met in the summer of 2020, and her hype did not disappoint! The city gave me big Santa Fe vibes, with hordes of local coffee shops, craft breweries, and hippie dippy stores lining every street for blocks. We began the day with breakfast at Early Girl Eatery, where I indulged in spinach and potato cakes. Half of the menu was plant-based, excitingly, so I simply must go back to try all the options I spurned the first time.

            We spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon exploring all the shops, from imported metaphysical goods to local artisan crafts. I’m typically not much of a souvenir gal, but even I was tempted by Asheville’s boho chic selection—I came away with a tree of life necklace, a vintage mushroom poster, some stickers, and a print for my goddess art collection. It took a looooottttt of willpower to not splurge on a cat tarot deck and a necklace fashioned from the skull of a tiny woodland creature. Inevitably, we closed out the afternoon with an adult beverage at Bhramari Brewing. I quite enjoyed the time spent chatting with Jess, sampling my beer flight, and ogling at the bastardizations of Hindu gods depicted in murals on the brewery’s open patio.

            I will say, I think Asheville has a lot of spiritual spectacle and very little substance—similar to Santa Fe, at least in my opinion. I get the vibe that it was once a nice place for nature-oriented artists and spiritualists to live, but it has become so gentrified in recent years that those people can no longer afford to stay and draw inspiration from the breathtaking natural scenery. Besides a very persistent Hare-Krishna devotee who swindled us into buying several Prabhupada texts, I didn’t encounter any truly “hippie” beliefs or traditions. Just a lot of white folks bent on peddling their ‘spiritual’ materials—an oxymoron if I’ve ever written one.  Nevertheless, I liked catching up with Jess and taking a short break from my normal lifestyle, which is usually quite minimalistic.

Kittens and Beignets: Johnson City, Tennessee

            Jess lives a short drive away from Asheville in Johnson City, so I got to meet her roommate and her two cats, Echo and Love. Love was a tiny kitten when I visited—only 6 weeks old—and she took a liking to clambering on me in my sleep. I wasn’t mad. We also went to Babbette’s Coffee Shop one morning and I was delighted to see beignets on the menu. They were amazing, albeit a very messy car snack.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park:
Tennessee/ North Carolina

            As the most heavily trafficked National Park in the United States, the Great Smokies were naturally a priority on my journey down South. The Appalachian Mountains are an entirely different beast from the Rockies, but no less majestic. I was taken aback by the lush greenery in the park, how the entirety of each rolling hill was enveloped in rainbow vegetation as the trees underwent their autumnal transformations. It was certainly perfect timing to see the park.

            Again, I consulted a park ranger for help with my mycological quest, and for the first time, I found someone who knew what he was talking about! He recommended a short trail off Newfound Gap Road, where he claimed he had spotted a variety of shelf fungus. He did not lead me astray, as I saw a bounty of polypore mushrooms and turkey tails popping off the trees. This trail was a short stint of the Appalachian Trail, so I crossed paths with several hikers who were carrying impressive loads of gear and had clearly traveled long distances. It was so inspiring that I might have to go back and hike the whole thing one day 😉

            In the afternoon, I began the drive to the center of the park, to the highest point on the AT: Clingman’s Dome. I intended to do a bit more hiking to reach the summit, but just as I turned into the trailhead’s parking lot, a frightening grey cloud descended over the park. Ultimately, the rain only lasted for a few hours, but it was enough to deter me from the solo high elevation hike, especially because I lacked proper waterproof gear. I decided that the views from the car sufficed, and I drove through the cute little town of Gatlinburg on my way out of the park.

Hot Gossip: Knoxville, Tennessee

            Knoxville has a special place in my heart, as the biggest city close to where I lived in Tennessee. On our weekends off from our marina jobs, Payton and I used to drive down to Knoxville to enjoy the local restaurants and peruse the quaint downtown area. This time around, I was just stopping in for an afternoon to see my friend Taylor, whom I also worked with at the marina!

            Bubbly and cheerful as ever, Taylor met me at The Tomato Head, a soup and sandwich place with tons of vegetarian options. We caught up over lunch and she dished all the hot gossip from this year’s crew of servers at Shanghai (the marina we both worked at).

            Taylor had to head to work shortly thereafter, so I had some time to kill. I headed to the library at the University of Knoxville, where I posted up for several hours and got some work done. University libraries were my best friends on this trip—they’re one of the few places where people can sit for hours on end without being expected to buy anything. Plus, they are often open 24 hours!

Ceviche de Hongos: Chattanooga, Tennessee

            The next day, it was off to Chattanooga, along the Southern border of Tennessee. I reconnected with my friend Michaela, another of my coworkers from Shanghai Marina at Norris Lake. I first met up with her at a skate park, where we watched some of her friends play a field hockey game. Then we hit up a hip little bar and grill called State of Confusion. Their specialty was ceviche—for those who don’t know, ceviche is a coastal South American dish that uses acidic citrus juices to “cook” raw seafood, culminating in a fresh and flavorful fish salad. It was one of my favorites when I lived in Yucatan. I was downright stunned to see ceviche de hongos (mushroom ceviche) on State of Confusion’s menu. Two of my favorite things, combined in a way I had ever seen before! The dish was served in an oversized margarita glass and far exceeded every one of my expectations.

            Michaela had to work the following day, so I took myself on a tour of downtown Chattanooga. I walked through Coolidge Park, the city’s riverfront hang-out spot, and admired the water fountains and stone frog statues. As I ambled into the shopping area, I became enamored with the sidewalk decorations: gold plated footsteps arranged to emulate the step patterns of different dance forms. How fun, right? I ended up at Stone Cup Café, where I enjoyed a coffee, a scone, and peaceful riverside views.

Lookout Mountain: Georgia

            On my final evening in Tennessee, Michaela took me for one last adventure, which turned out to be across the border in Georgia. We drove up the side of Lookout Mountain, then hiked a short distance to the summit. At the top, cliffs dropped off at steep angles, revealing a stunning panorama of the Tennessee Valley. We sat for a long moment on the rocks, watching the sunset. We also got to witness an engagement photo shoot atop the cliffs, conducted remotely via drone. I was impressed by the photographer’s maneuvering skills, and I wish I could find that couple to see how the photos turned out!

            I spent one more night with Michaela and her cat, Lacey, before setting off again. As lovely as it was to see my old friend, I must admit it was quite the honor to meet her cat. Lacey was twenty years old. Almost as old as me. She was riddled with medical issues from her old age. One such issue was arthritic hips, which caused her to hover uncomfortably without ever fully sitting down. Instead, she would just slowly lower her chin as you petted her, ever grateful for the attention. She was also a bit…out of it because of an accidental poisoning in her youth. She would go to her litter box and simply stand in it, staring at the wall, seemingly using the litter under her paws as her own personal Zen garden. I have missed Lacey dearly ever since leaving Chattanooga.

A Random Coffee Shop in Nowhere, Alabama

            Alabama was not a destination on my trip, nor did it become one. However, I did decide to drive south out of Chattanooga, which meant I had a brief stint through rural Alabama. I decided to stop at a random coffee shop on my morning journey, and I really wish I hadn’t. I am going to write this next section in play format, because that’s the best way I know to convey this baffling experience.

AT RISE: A quaint Southern coffee shop. KAYA enters and approaches the counter.

KAYA: Hi! Could I please get an iced mocha?

BARISTA (Monotone): Sure, I can get that for you.

Beat.

KAYA: Could I also have a bagel, please?

BARISTA (Monotone): Sure, I can get that for you.

BARISTA produces a bag of bagels from below the register. He opens the bag, retrieves one bagel with his bare hand, then offers it to KAYA. KAYA reluctantly takes the bagel.

KAYA: Uh…do you have like a little tub of cream cheese to go with it?

BARISTA (Monotone): Sure, I can get that for you.

BARISTA produces an 8 oz tub of cream cheese from fridge behind him. He sets it on the counter in front of KAYA.

KAYA: Uh…

BARISTA: Oh!

BARISTA produces a metal spoon. He hands it to KAYA. KAYA begins to use the spoon to awkwardly spread cream cheese on the bagel she is holding with her bare hand.

BARISTA rings KAYA out. KAYA pays.

KAYA: I’m gonna run to the bathroom, be back for my coffee in a minute.

KAYA goes to the bathroom.

KAYA returns from the bathroom. BARISTA is still standing in the same spot.

BARISTA: Did you want ice in your iced mocha?

KAYA: ….yes, please.

BARISTA (Monotone): Sure, I can get that for you.

BARISTA prepares coffee and gives it to KAYA. KAYA leaves coffee shop as fast as possible. KAYA leaves Alabama as fast as possible.

Hot Springs National Park: Arkansas

            Hot Springs was the final National Park on my itinerary, and it was so unlike the other National Parks I had been to that I seriously doubted that I was in the right place. My navigation landed me in a parking garage in the center of Hot Springs, Arkansas, which is not a nature preserve at all, but rather, a small tourist town. I walked past a number of souvenir shops before arriving at the visitor center, which turned out to be an old bathhouse and museum.

            Apparently, water from these hot springs were believed to have healing properties in the early 20th century, and they were used for various spa treatments. However, these treatments were not administered by soaking in the natural springs, as I anticipated. Large, lavish bathhouses were built in this town to entice wealthy White guests into luxurious spa vacations. Black workers administered these treatments, which ranged from foot soaks to full-body steams. The museum in the visitor center gave guests a picture of this scene, down to the antiquated equipment used in the spa. I slowly pieced together this information as I perused the exhibits, which utilized unsettling mannequins to reenact various scenes throughout the bathhouse.

            Besides the museum, guests to this national park can also stroll up and down Fountain Street to view the selection of bathhouses. There were eight in total, several of which remain open to the public. Unfortunately, I did not get to experience the healing water itself, as I did not make a spa reservation in time. I did, however, walk behind the bathhouses at the suggestion of a park ranger. I found myself on a nature trail, heading up to a mountain tower at the top of the hill. The tower had decent vistas, but I was still completely puzzled as to why this town is considered a National Park (as opposed to a National Historic Site).

Carrie Underwood’s Hometown: Checotah, Oklahoma

            This one is an honorary mention. I did not stop here, but I was absolutely thrilled to drive through Checotah. I have long been a fan of Carrie Underwood, and I grew up singing the song off her debut album, “I Ain’t in Checotah Anymore.” As I drove through rural Oklahoma, I recognized all the landmarks mentioned in the song, like Eufala Lake! It was a fun little nod to my childhood and my long-lost love for country music.

            I was a bit wary of venturing into the American South alone—after all, I wasn’t familiar with the region, and I had heard plenty of cryptic warnings (“if you hear banjos, run!”). In the end, though, I didn’t run into any trouble, and I was grateful to explore the natural beauty in this part of the country. It was wonderful to see so many old friends, and I look forward to exploring the Appalachian Mountains a great deal more in my future adventures!

Historical States of America

          A lot of people were surprised to hear that I embarked upon my cross-country road trip alone. As tempting as it was to recruit a friend to come along, traveling solo is just so liberating—and so much easier, frankly! All I had to worry about was me- my belongings, my schedule, my bucket list. I made time for the things I wanted to do and rested when I was tired. Plus, I had plenty of friends to meet up with along the journey, so I never had to worry about getting lonely.

          Now that I’m home safe and sound, I am very proud to announce that only two things went wrong on the entire trip. I did lose my debit card in Virginia, but I had several other cards, so I was able to cancel it immediately and move on with no further thought. However, the biggest catastrophe was a story that I started in my previous article. Not only did I become frighteningly ill in a muddy festival campground, but I also inadvertently passed my illness (at the time, I thought it was food poisoning!) to my friends Georgia and Aron in Columbus. We all made it out alive, but the saga continues…

          Apparently, some stomach viruses (like norovirus) can be transmitted both through improper food handling and through interpersonal contact. I blame an order of unsettling tater tots at Lost Lands for my breakthrough as Patient Zero. That’s why I thought nothing of it when Skyler reported feeling ill on the morning of the Eberhart wedding, almost two whole weeks after I had recovered from my infirmity. However, Norovirus is highly transmissible and apparently, quite rampant around this time of year. My best guess is that Skyler was in the wrong place with the wrong person at the Cleveland Airport.

          Being the great sport that he is, Sky made it through an entire day of wedding festivities—church rituals, greeting strangers, meals, photographs—before excusing himself. It wasn’t until later that I recognized his symptoms as my own from a few weeks prior: vomiting, weakness, inability to regulate body temperature, and above all else, an intolerable, wrenching gut pain that feels like your organs are trying to destroy themselves. Never have I experienced empathy on such a direct level than when I was watching Sky suffer from the worst virus I have ever had.

            That said, Sky was feeling better as fast as he had begun feeling sick—for both of us, the dreaded norovirus lasted no longer than 24 hours. Rather than boot and rally for a dubstep festival, though, Sky simply had to make it through the drive to Pennsylvania the following morning. We bid adieu to the bridal party and set off for Quakertown: Skyler’s hometown and the current residence of his father’s family.

Q-Mart: Quakertown, Pennsylvania

          As the name may suggest, this part of Pennsylvania is historically known as the home of the Quakers, a religious group with roots in Protestant Christianity. When they gained popularity during the 17th century, the Quakers were considered radical for their beliefs in pacifism, spiritual equality between genders, and religious freedom. Their settlements in the American colonies were hugely formative for the religious ethic in the United States, though the Quakers have long since moved on from the city that adopted their name.

          Sky and I’s journey to Quakertown was much less a quest for religious freedom than it was one for family amendments. Though he has some not-so-great memories there from his childhood, I found it quite charming. Quakertown’s biggest appeal is the regionally famous Quakertown Market, a combination flea market/ farmer’s market/ bizarre liminal space that is open every week from Friday through Sunday. I heard plenty of stories about the affectionately named “Q-Mart,” ranging from whole boar heads being carted around to illicit drug deals in the corner stalls to alligators freely roaming the aisles. That said, nothing could really prepare me for the oddity that is Q-Mart. Each stall offers something unique, with some being fairly run-of-the-mill (like Sky’s stepmom’s all-natural body shop) and others being ridiculously specific (such as the vendor exclusively offering remotes).  I greatly enjoyed the few hours I spent browsing the labyrinth of the Q-Mart.

          Our other highlight from Quakertown was Sky and I’s FIRST EDIBLE FUNGUS FIND! Our eyes had been peeled since our bountiful harvest in Ohio (read about it in Magical Midwest), so when Sky told me he spotted a unique growth on a tree in his neighbor’s backyard, my interest was piqued! We ventured back to the yard one afternoon and sure enough, visible from the street, there was a massive formation of coral tooth fungus dripping off the side of the tree.

          Don’t try this at home, folks! We grabbed some aluminum foil and pried a big chunk of the growth off the tree, leaving plenty behind for the inhabitants of the nearby woods and for the purpose of future sporulation. When we got home, we double and triple checked our initial identification across several sources. When we broke the growth into pieces, tiny teeth-like gills on every surface confirmed our suspicion. We had found an edible AND choice species! With a little butter, the coral’s tooth fungus grills up in a shockingly similar way and taste to chicken. It tasted SO FRESH, too! My veggie heart was very happy. Of course, we didn’t die, so we know the specimen wasn’t poisonous.

Underwhelming Bell: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

          Sky’s hometown is a mere forty minutes outside of Philadelphia, our country’s first capital city after the American Revolution. Naturally, I was intrigued by Philly’s rich history, so we made a day trip out to see some of the sights!

            That…was a mistake. I know that Philadelphia has an appeal for some people, but I am not one of them. First, as I was driving into the city and trying to park near the Liberty Bell (first mistake!), I took ONE wrong turn and ended up across the river in Jersey. I did not want to be in Jersey on purpose, let alone on accident! I had to pay a $5 toll just to get back into Philly!

            Then, I nearly had to square up with a meter maid. No sooner than I had stepped out of my car and walked to the parking kiosk did she come over and scan my license plate. I waved at her and told her I was paying- she insisted that I should have stayed with the car (???).

            Our first stop was the Liberty Bell, and I was pleased that the entrance fee was free because the bell was quite underwhelming. I’m not even going to make a joke about how it’s cracked. It’s just surprisingly small, standing all on its own in a big room. Then, Independence Hall was shrouded in construction. I did enjoy seeing Benjamin Franklin’s grave, though, and then sitting in the park across the street to watch the squirrels.

          Sky and I walked a few blocks away from city center to South Street, another hallmark of Philadelphia culture. We explored Repo Records, a used bookstore called “Mostly Books,” and enjoyed the extensive mosaic street art by Isaiah Zagar. His mosaic murals were once confined to one wall of a small building near his studio—an effort to revitalize the downtown area. As his unconventional public art grew in popularity, his murals began to stretch across other buildings and infect other parts of Philadelphia. In 2002, Philadelphia Magic Gardens purchased the property on which his mosaics resided to preserve his work for future public enjoyment. And here we are, publicly enjoying it! I found this story quite interesting, as Zagar’s mosaics were one of the few things in Philly that I did not find unsightly and disgusting.

          Sky and I decided rather quickly to ditch our downtown parking spot and head up towards Manayunk, the neighborhood where my friend Madison lives! Madison and I met when we were roomies in Hyderabad in 2019. Since then, I’ve seen her in a lot of different places, from New York to Tennessee to Colorado, but I hadn’t seen her new apartment in Philly. When we arrived, one of my other friends from Hyderabad and Madison’s partner, Eli, was waiting for us, as well. I got to meet their turtle, Edmund, and we all enjoyed a delicious dinner of Thai takeout. I spent just one night with them before seeing Sky off (he sadly had to go back to work in CO). I journeyed to my next destination the following day, but not before completing my quest for the holy grail: a plant-based Philly cheesesteak. Silly, I know, but I found one made from tofu that tasted nothing like cheesesteak. It still hit the spot!

Taylor Swift's Infuriatingly Massive Beach House: Westerly, Rhode Island

          Madison, Eli, and I formed a caravan as we headed north to Allison’s place of residence in Westerly, Rhode Island. Allison is another of my good friends from Hyderabad, and it is rare that we all get together, so Madison, Eli, and I were happy to make the arduous drive through Connecticut for a chance to reconnect. Did you know that there is only one highway that goes through CT—I-95—and it is apparently plagued by bumper-to-bumper traffic at all times of the day?  The drive was infuriating.

          However, it was all worth it when we made it to Allison’s family’s gorgeous house, located just five minutes from the beach. A little shack with a sign boasting “Fresh Lobster” welcomed me to New England, and I could already feel a shift from the volatile atmosphere of Philadelphia and New York. As I pulled into her neighborhood, I spotted an impressive patch of fungus, featuring suede boletes (edible!) and Coker’s amanitas (highly toxic!), though it took me the better part of my stay to accurately identify these species.  

          Allison, who has been bragging to us about her New England upbringing for years, was more than happy to take us around Westerly. The first iconic stop was East Beach, which hosts a lighthouse that is especially quaint at sunrise and sunset. We stopped in the first night and witnessed a brilliant display of oranges and reds as the sun rose behind low clouds. East Beach is also where Taylor Swift has her beach house, which is—you guessed it—infuriatingly massive. I mean, no one even lives there most of the year! We did spot someone moving around in the living room, though…maybe her parents?

          On the second day, we visited the Newport Island cliff walk to take a scenic stroll above the beach and ogle at the other coastal mansions. We also went to the Umbrella Factory, a cute little village of local shops and restaurants that offer a variety of adorable Rhode Island souvenirs. The Umbrella Factory was also home to a full pond of ducks, a coop of rowdy chickens, a bamboo forest, some goats, and a very angry looking alpaca. As tempted as I was by all the handmade shell windchimes, I was plenty satisfied befriending the animals and discovering little families of grey bonnet mushrooms among the towering bamboo.

          On my final day in the smallest state in the country, Allison and I returned to East Beach for the sunset, and what a lovely way to bookend this section of the trip! As the sun sank below the watery horizon, creating an ombre of fiery tones on one side, the full moon rose on the other side, creating a breathtaking fade of pinks and purples. It was the most stunning sunset I have seen in a long time.

Cannoli Feud: Boston, Massachusetts

          When my time in Rhode Island was up, I took the commuter rail from Providence into Boston, where I was met by Cecelia, yet another of my friends from Hyderabad. Cecelia is the coolest and wisest art history nerd you’ll ever meet, so you can imagine my delight at being able to go on a walking tour of this historical city with her.

          We bustled twelve miles across the city that day as we hit all the sights: Boston Harbor, the Freedom Trail, Faneuil Hall, Boston Common & Gardens, Trinity Church, Boston Public Library, Capitol building, and the Hatch Memorial Shell outdoor amphitheater. We even got to witness a [pretty pathetic] reenactment of the Boston Tea Party!

          Cecelia brought me to Flour, her favorite sandwich shop in the city. For dessert, she enamored me with a thrilling tale of two feuding Italian American families who have long competed for best cannoli in Boston. Ultimately, she brought me to her personal favorite, Modern Pastry, and I have nothing to compare it to, but it was a pretty damn good cannoli! We each built our own, with Cecelia opting for crumbled pistachios on the ends while I went with the more traditional chocolate chip-dipped ricotta filling.

Olde Mystick Village: Mystic, Connecticut

          After Boston, I had officially reached the northernmost point of my route. I stopped in Connecticut briefly on the way back South and decided to take a gander through the famous Olde Mystick Village. Much like the Umbrella Factory in Rhode Island, Mystick Village boasted an assortment of hippy dippy and other novelty stores. Allison and I had a blast sampling exotic honey flavors at Sticky Situations and fancy spreads at Extra Virgin Oil Store. I was completely enthralled by several other niche stores, such as Alice in the Village, an Alice in Wonderland themed tea shop, and Cloak & Wand, a Harry Potter inspired metaphysical supply store. While wandering through Dharma Jewel, a “Tibetan” store (I say ironically because the owner was white), Allison and I got a kick out of the exorbitant prices of henna cones, as we both remembered learning to do henna with cones that cost 10 rs. (about $0.13 USD) in India. Of course, the white shop owner had something to say about the cost of importation.

Don't Tread On Me: New York City, New York

          Sadly, my time in New England had come to an end. Luckily, the drive southbound through Connecticut was far more pleasant than it had been northbound, and I rolled into Mount Vernon, New York City right on time to check into my AirBnB and meet up with my friend Jen. Jen and I met when we studied abroad in Yucatan, Mexico, and we bonded over our mutual fondness of the moon! Funnily enough, Jen was the last friend who I visited, in New York City, just as the COVID restrictions hit the first time. We said goodbye to one another in a panic as the Big Apple shut down on a frightening scale. Thus, seeing Jen in NYC again was a fabulous way to bookend the pandemic (if I can be so bold as to assume the worst of it is over).

          Jen moved upstate because of the pandemic, so we were both equally excited to get back into the city and check out some its exciting exhibitions. Our first stop was “Treasures,” a free public exhibition hosted by the New York Public Library. “Treasures” displayed just that: treasures of all origins and values from throughout American history. Some highlights include the original written draft of the Bill of Rights, original illustrations from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, set models of famous Broadway musicals In the Heights and Sunday in the Park with George (rest in power Stephen Sondheim!!!), and the original written draft of George Washington’s farewell address. Seeing the latter document in our first president’s own handwriting made me more emotional than I was expecting. Much of his advice is more relevant than ever now, especially his pleas to avoid political polarization.

          We stopped at Jajaja, a vegan taco restaurant in the West Village, for some scrumptious plant-based eats since Jen and I are both vegetarian. 

          Then, we booked it over to “Happy Go Lucky,” an immersive art experience that I found in an internet search. Unfortunately, I cannot be pressed to recommend this exhibit to anyone. The design was poorly thought out and even more poorly executed. Very little about this exhibit could honestly be considered “immersive.” However, there were some fun moments, and the employees served us chocolate popcorn as a treat at the end!

          After the art exhibit, we were on to Fraunces Tavern, where George Washington delivered his celebratory speech just after the British troops withdrew from the American colonies. This building now doubles as a museum, with a replica of the original tavern upstairs, and a functional, old-timey tavern on the first floor. This museum was also surprisingly moving, with several thoughtful exhibitions that critically examined the modernization of old flags and patriotic phrases such as “Don’t Tread on Me.” Of course, Jen and I stopped for a drink on the way out. You know, to get the full American experience! Then we made our way over to Clinton Street for a dinner at Ivan Ramen. We both enjoyed veggie noodle bowls before trudging back to the train that would take us North to our AirBnB.

National Mall: Washington D.C.

          The next day was another long day, as I had never been to Washington D.C. and I had only allotted myself a single day to explore it all. In hindsight, I would have planned several more days in D.C. Admittedly, I was expecting my tour of the national mall to be extremely dull and dry (i.e. “this is where President Carter stood when he spoke on October 11. This is where President Reagan stood when he spoke on May 14. Etc.). I could not have been more wrong! Our nation’s capital, even the downtown area, is full of art, nature, and knowledge. The best part of all: it’s 100% FREE!

          I had no one to meet in D.C., so let me tell you, I speed ran the National Mall like no other. I started in the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History and invested the most time there, it being my most anticipated destination. I enjoyed every exhibit, and especially loved how every path through the museum seemed to paint a narrative of life, death, and rebirth. The exhibit of taxidermy animal specimens was striking—until I wandered into the next room and saw each of the specimens’ intricate skeletons! The exhibit on Egyptian history also resonated greatly with me.

          Next, I meandered down the National Mall and visited each of the public gardens: the National Gallery sculpture garden, the Hirshorn sculpture garden, the Smithsonian pollinator garden, the national botanical garden, and the Enid A. Haupt Smithsonian garden.

         At Cecelia’s suggestion, I went inside the Hirshorn (Smithsonian Museum of Modern Art) to peruse the new Laurie Anderson exhibit. Thank goodness I did, because it was one of the most powerful collections of art that I have experienced since before the pandemic.

          Laurie Andersen, a multi-media artist, built each of the rooms in this exhibit. Many featured small projections mapped onto innovative backgrounds, with people and animals repeating phrases in monotone. Others showed videos of Andersen’s performances, excerpts of her writing, and parts of her photo projects. The one that stood out the most was an experiment she performed where she would fall asleep in public and then document the dreams she had while sleeping. Her writing on the topic has certainly stuck with me for many months. My absolute favorite part of this exhibit, though, was the room that was painted floor to ceiling with nonsense phrases. Just a few unrelated sculptures filled the room, with the main attraction being the hand-painted words scribbled across every surface. Some of my favorite Andersen gibberish includes:

          “Books are the way the dead talk to the living”

          “Who owns the moon?”

          “The many kinds of silence: The silence after you’ve said something really stupid. The silence in the middle of a deserted street at midnight. The silence after you’ve prayed.”

          I took my sweet time marveling at Laurie Andersen’s meticulous paint job. Then, realizing that I had only a few hours before everything on the National Mall closed, I practically ran to the Library of Congress. I did not get to go inside due to construction, but I did get to view the exterior of the building, as well as the US Supreme Court Building, the US Capitol Building, and the Washington Monument. I finished up my afternoon in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, which was also mostly closed for construction, and then took a sunset walk to see the White House and some of the other stunning architecture in Washington D.C.

          There’s no way I could have accomplished that much if I had anyone else with me, and I still feel like I need another week in D.C. to check out the hordes of museums I missed. There you have it- that’s why you should travel alone. Because you can see three museums, five gardens, and five national monuments in a single day if you resist the urge to stop for ice cream. After visiting so many cities that were integral to the history and creation of America, I absolutely had newfound awe for my country, and I still had plenty of awe-inspiring destinations to hit. Make sure to subscribe so you can get notified of my next article documenting my travels through the American South and its stunning natural scenery!

Magical Midwest

          I’ve been road tripping 😊 I got back last week, and I’ve finally had a chance to collect my thoughts. Eight weeks of traveling solo really took it out of me!

          I had been wanting to do a big trip after I graduated last May, but COVID-19 wiped out my plans for the year, as I’m sure you can all understand. When restrictions loosened, my wanderlust mixed with continued skepticism about leaving the country. Then, I realized that the pandemic had scattered my closest friends across the Eastern United States, many of them to places I had never been!

            My lease in Boulder ended in September, so I quit my job, packed up my new-to-me Subaru Crosstrek, and set off. I was fortunate enough to be able to stay with friends along the way, and I brought my portable camp stove so I could save money on meals. I spent the first three weeks or so in the Midwest, and what a magical three weeks it was! Ohio, especially, is the brunt of a lot of jokes when it comes to states that are “interesting” or “important” or “nice to live in.” I must admit, after finishing my undergraduate in Ohio, I do have a soft spot for this…ahem…irrelevant state. In my most recent travels, however, I discovered what Ohio is great for. Mushroom hunting!!!

          The proudest day in my mycology career was the day I spent in Cuyahoga Valley National Park, Ohio. I saw hundreds of specimens while hiking just six or seven miles through the woods, including the prized amanita muscaria.

          If you don’t recognize this picturesque toadstool from fairytale illustrations, you might know it from the Super Mario Bros. franchise. This one was hiding coyly under a leaf, not two yards from the trail. I’m so glad I looked in that direction because I’ve been hunting for one of these elusive morsels for years. The “Fly Agaric” mushroom IS psychoactive, though it is not the strain commonly referred to as “magic mushroom” (psilocybe cubensis). This specimen has a long entheogenic history in shamanic traditions all over the world. In Siberia, indigenous mystics would ingest the caps and relay their experiences as transcendental visions, prophetic communications from the world above.

            No, I didn’t try it. It’s illegal to remove anything from a national park, and anyway, I didn’t have the materials to make a proper spore print. I decided not to disturb the forest for my own selfish curiosity. I still felt quite blessed to have seen the specimen at all, and I finished my forage with a newfound appreciation for the muggy air that I had always hated about Ohio. Thanks to the humidity, I saw more fungal growth that one day than I’ve ever seen in Colorado (hint: I haven’t been looking in the right places)!

            Besides the treasured amanita muscaria, I saw several other gems on my adventure throughout the American Midwest. My first stop on the long journey was a music festival on the Kansas/ Missouri border, and that weekend alone provided enough stimulation to last me through a whole new lockdown.

Dancefestopia: LaCygne, Kansas

          Dancefestopia Music and Arts Festival is a relatively small electronic music festival held at Wildwood Outdoor Education Center. Accordingly, the 10,000 attendees are essentially overgrown children covered in dirt and glitter, gathering in a field to dance, play, and trade tie-dye and other trinkets. It’s a very PLUR (peace, love, unity, respect) vibe and the fest falls on my little sis’ birthday weekend, so we always try to go.

          My secret to affording music festivals is simple: I volunteer at them. Like many other fests, Dancefestopia offers a highly discounted ticket ($50) in exchange for a set number of hours worked during the event, and it’s a great way to make new friends. We saw artists with the likes of Jai Wolf, Troyboi, Rezz, and GRiZ. We also chilled in hammocks by the lake, got a treat from our favorite festival food truck (SPACE FRUIT!), and met up with all sorts of great people—the highlight of the weekend for me was seeing my old friend Cece. We originally met at Resonance Music & Arts Festival in PA in 2019. When we found out we would both be at Dancefest, we made plans to meet up, but inevitably, I lost service once we arrived at the campgrounds. It was purely by luck that we ran into each other because we did so past our meeting time and not anywhere close to our meeting spot. Ah, the magic of festivals!

Convergence Station: Denver, Colorado

          After Dancefest, I left my car in Iowa and flew back to Denver for a short stint. I had a couple of appointments, but more importantly, the new Denver Meow Wolf exhibit was having its grand opening! Naturally, I snagged tickets for opening day. You can find my full review of Convergence Station in my post about Immersive Art, but suffice it to say that Meow Wolf is reason enough to travel 800 miles out of the way.

Morton Arboretum: Chicago, Illinois

          I flew back to the Des Moines airport and began the car-only part of my trip, setting off for Chicago. I had never driven in Chicago, so I was somewhat unnerved to find myself driving long stretches in underground tunnels with stop lights lurking past every twist and turn. Tunnel driving is stressful enough—why further complicate it with surprise hazards?!

          Buena Park, a neighborhood nestled along the Western coast of Lake Michigan, is home for Caleb, one of my dear friends from college, and his eccentric Maine Coon, Huey. I spent one evening with him, catching up and hearing about all the cats he watches in the city.

          We had an early start the following morning, as he was off to cat sit and I wanted to hit an art exhibit before leaving the state. Then I was southbound, winding underneath the Chicago River once again as I exited the city.

          I arrived at the Morton Arboretum a bit early, during members-only hours, but the kind lady at the visitor center didn’t seem to mind. This was the first time I had ever visited a sanctuary like this, and it wasn’t just for the trees—through Spring 2022, Morton Arboretum plays host to a five-part installation by one of my favorite multi-media artists, Daniel Popper. I first experienced his work in Tulum, Mexico, and again several years later at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Human + Nature, as this installation is named, is my favorite of his so far; it is the largest in scale and beautifully complemented by the serene natural surroundings of the arboretum. The five sculptures were in five different parts of the park, each one the thematic centerpiece of the plants around it. Visitors were encouraged to touch and explore, although not climb, the life size sculptures. It is impossible to say which one I liked the best because they were all creatively stunning in their own ways.

Lost Lands: Thornville, Ohio

          Upon completing my tour of Morton Arboretum, I made for Ohio, my ex-state of residence which I remember fondly (although I can’t say I would ever move back). I was on to the second music festival of my trip: Lost Lands. This festival is markedly bigger, heavier, and crazier than Dancefest, with a prehistoric theme that utilizes life sized animatronic dinosaurs throughout the grounds. In the past, I have considered Lost Lands “home,” but this year, the LL gods did not smile on me.

          I drove into a nasty thunderstorm in Indiana that followed me all the way to Thornville. Catastrophically, torrential rain hit as the first wave of attendees were pulling into their campsites and unloading their gear. The downpour continued for several hours, transforming the dusty fields into saturated mud pits, and placing a bleak damper on the fun to come. Luckily, I was stationed in the information tent for my first volunteer shift, so I was shielded from the angry sky, but we had no power, no heat, and tragically, no service. Everyone else was hiding out in their cars, so we didn’t answer many informational questions that first night, but I did make friends with some lovely gals named Liz and Emily, who had come all the way from Massachusetts.

          Sadly, the morning of Day 0 (the pre-party) did not look up from the night before. The grounds remained soaked to the point that festival organizers began turning attendees away. That mess was unbeknownst to me, for I had woken up in the backseat camper of my Crosstrek with a terrible feeling in my gut. What I initially thought was an adverse reaction to the tater tots I had eaten the night before quickly made itself known as a stomach virus—easily the worst one I have ever experienced. I was unable to keep even a sip of water down, and I was crippled by a grinding pain in my abdomen. I was camped by myself, on the outskirts of a muddy field, with my car tires completely sunk into the mud. As a volunteer, I had been placed in the farthest possible “worker” campsite, several miles down the road from the event grounds in rural Ohio. Food and water were a bumpy twenty-minute bus ride away; port-a-potties were at least thirty minutes by foot. In my condition, I couldn’t get more than five feet from my vehicle.

          Around noon, I ran out of water and began to panic. I was still violently ill, the festival was in the early stages of last-minute cancellation, and I had no way out of my situation. I befriended a fellow staff member who offered me some medicine to get my nausea under control. When I could finally stand without retching, I was able to flag over an on-site tractor to tow me out of the mud. For the record, I have all-wheel drive and “X-MODE,” whatever that is. When I say I was STUCK in the mud, you know what I mean.

          Miraculously, I got my car to move, and I got my organs to stop moving just long enough to drive to Columbus, just over an hour away from the festival. I sought refuge with Georgia, an absolute angel who was my roommate all through undergrad. I cannot understate how lucky I was to have her during this tribulation. She might have literally saved my life with her electrolyte mix. After a day of resting on her couch and cautiously sucking on ice chips, I was able to keep some fluids, and then some food, in my system. By the time music was starting on Lost Lands Day 1, I had regained enough strength to return to the festival and rage!

          The lineup for 2021 was INSANE and I saw a ton of my favorite DJs who I had never seen before, including ARMNHMR, Crystal Skies, Trivecta, and Fancy Monster. Most people think of Lost Lands as a heavy dubstep festival (which it is!), but the lineup of artists is so diverse and so stacked that you can really pick and choose between genres of dubstep you like. For me, that’s melodic bass, so I hardly spent any time headbanging! Despite a rocky start, Lost Lands turned out to be an amazing weekend, filled with good music and good vibes.

Columbus, Ohio

          On Monday morning after the festival’s conclusion, I set off for Columbus again, this time ailed by an acute case of post-festival depression. My digestive tract was finally feeling back to normal, and my spirits were high—up until my arrival at Georgia’s loft in the Short North, where I discovered that I had inadvertently passed my sickness to Georgia and her boyfriend. They were recovering slowly and luckily for me; they were only mildly amused and not at all upset that I had ruined their weekend. I stayed with Georgia and Aron for a week or so and tried to redeem myself for putting them through a forcible digestive cleanse, as we took to calling it. I can’t speak for them, but my intestines had been completely reset once the whole thing was said and done.

          Georgia and Aron showed me around several parts of Columbus, including a bunch of delightful restaurants and eateries. My favorites were Fox in the Snow, a local coffee shop that served a souffle egg sandwich; Pistacia Vera, a French bakery that was just as pleasing for the eye as it was for the tongue; and Eden Burger, a plant-based fast-food joint whose fries were to die for. They also took me to the Columbus Art Museum and the Franklin Park Conservatory & Botanical Gardens—both stunning. The former destination offered a special exhibition on the work of Columbus artist Aminah Robinson, while the latter featured hundreds of breathtaking installations by glassblower Dave Chihuly. 

          While in Columbus, I also had a chance to stay with Margo, my friend and mentor from college, her boyfriend Jackson, with whom I was previously acquainted but never knew well, and their rather interesting cat Rosaline. Margo helped me infiltrate the Ohio State University library so I could get some work done, and I learned some fascinating things about the OSU mascot, Brutus. You probably know of the Ohio State Buckeyes, but did you know that the mascot is a literal buckeye? Not a squirrel or a groundhog or any other creature that might serve as an ambassador for a buckeye, but an actual nut with eyes and legs? Apparently, Brutus has had a long, dark history. The mascot suit has undergone many changes since the institution of modern college mascots, and I’ll let you all be the judge of which iteration is the creepiest. My vote is for 1975.

          Margo is a member of CorePower Yoga. She encouraged me to finally cash in my three free classes and I had a blast, even though I hadn’t done hot vinyasa in a long time and thought I was going to die at times. The owner asked if I wanted to teach there and I had to explain that my own Yoga practice doesn’t necessarily align with the CorePower model, which tends to prioritize fitness and body image over stillness and intrinsic awareness. She seemed somewhat offended that I brought this up, but she agreed that, CorePower’s “whole shtick” is fitness. Still, I believe it is important to have conversations about the histories and cultural contexts of the practices we market for commercial gain. To me, it seems that CorePower uses the word “Yoga” to attract paying audiences to a practice that is, in many ways, antithetical to the philosophical roots of Yoga.

Eberhart Wedding: Northern Ohio (Rootstown/ Kent/ Akron/ Cleveland)

          Around the second week of October, I bid my Columbus friends farewell and went North towards Cuyahoga County. I spent a day in the national park, making revolutionary fungal discoveries every few steps. That evening, my boyfriend Skyler flew in from Denver. He’s also an avid mushroom hunter, so I took him into Cleveland the next day, to a public park that is a part of the Old Growth Forest network. True to its name, the park was a wonderland of Ohioan biodiversity, featuring centuries-old vegetation, rare fungus, and cold-blooded creatures. Can you spot the critter in this photo?

          The main reason for us being in North Ohio was that my good friend Olivia had asked me to be her bridesmaid. I spent a lot of time with Olivia and her then-boyfriend, Robbie, in college, and I always adored them together, so it was very exciting to be a part of their wedding. After marking off our finds in our field guide, Sky and I drove over to Kent to meet up with the other folks in the bridal party: Talon, Lexi, and Michaela. I was friends with all three of these people in college, yet I had seen none of them since before the onset of the pandemic, so it was wonderful to catch up over manicures. The rehearsal dinner went smoothly, and we concluded the night with a bonfire at Lexi’s house. Good dogs, great cheese, and excellent camaraderie made for the perfect precursor to the big day, and I even bonded with Lexi’s mom over puffballs, an edible fungus that often pop up in yards and lawns!

          The Eberhart-Rocco wedding was a beautiful, love-filled affair. The ceremony, held at Olivia’s childhood church, was traditional and very sweet. The reception was at the Akron Museum of Art, and guests were invited to peruse the galleries as they waited for the festivities to commence. The entire menu—down to the cupcakes—was vegan (and delectable, if I do say so myself). I teared up at several points throughout the night, but Robbie’s reaction to seeing Olivia coming down the aisle was easily my favorite moment, closely followed by Lexi’s maid of honor speech. I got to see Caleb again, as well as some other great folks I know from college. The DJ played some bangers!! Now, I’ll think of Olivia and Robbie whenever I hear “Blinding Lights” by the Weeknd.

          Marriages, mascots, music, mushrooms. Do you see why my time in the Midwest was magical? I must admit, I’ve never lauded Ohio with such a word, but aside from contracting norovirus, the first few weeks of my road trip were positively so. Which leads me to another story about norovirus—yes, someone else along my journey contracted the dreadful cleanse, but that is a story for another time. Check back next week for the next leg of my journey: the historical states!