Ah, there's Ashley Furniture, and there's Kohl's. Look, there's Wendy's and McDonald's, and over here is Ikea. Moving on I see a Best Buy and a Sam's Club, right next to WalMart. Across the street is Conn's. Here's Chili's and there's Starbucks, and over here a Sonic and a Home Depot. Lowe's is further down the street, of course. Walgreen's, Rite Aid, some variation of Krogers' and Tom Thumb - on the West Coast they are Ralph's and Von's respectively. On the East Coast they are Publix and Giant. And let's not forget Denny's and IHOP and the requisite hotels that line the interstate: Motels 6 and 8, Holiday Inn Express and Regular, Microtel, pay by the week motels and La Quinta and Extended Stay America and on and on.
This must mean I'm in... Denver? Dallas? Detroit? St. Petersburg or San Diego? Maybe San Antonio or San Marcos? No, wait! It is Pecos! Or is it Paris?
I've noticed, through all of this traveling, that all of the towns, cities, metropoleis, well... they all have the same stores, facilities and establishments. For the most part they are all arranged in the same groupings and offer the same wares and the same fare. That makes it very safe and comforting to venture far away from home, doesn't it? If your home is, say, in Odessa Texas, you might find relief and familiarity if your entire family has to relocate to Junction City, Kansas.
Believe it or not, I've been experiencing the same thing, in reverse. In China there is Pizza Hut and McDonald's, Dairy Queen and Papa John's, KFC and Starbucks and WalMart. Maybe not so much with WalMart or McDonald's, but with Pizza Hut especially, which did provide me a lot of comfort while living in Wuhan, I do feel a tug of familiarity to my home in China. Even though Pizza Hut is an American eatery, I associate it with my life overseas. Maybe it is because I did not frequent that establishment while living in the States, but I've made it a part of my life and routine in China.
Yes, I do confess: in China I go to Pizza Hut about once every two weeks and enjoy a salad with thousand island dressing and a personal pan pizza, all for 44Yuan. As I understand it, here Pizza Hut does not offer a full menu including entrees and desserts. I don’t know for sure about that; I've not been to Pizza Hut at all since I've been back and the few times I went while I lived here I don't recall having such an extensive menu to select from.
Back to the whole 'every town looks the same' idea. Because that is what I'm saying here. Every town does look the same from a bus window. Oh, sure each city strives to have a distinctive skyline. From a distance Dallas looks nothing like Dover and San Diego looks nothing like San Angelo. Those are differences I can appreciate, and they make this voyage on Greyhound especially interesting, if only for the fact that usually, the Greyhound stations tend to be in the heart of downtown, no matter what size the town.
What makes distinguishing one town from another difficult is sound barrier walls. I understand the use and the sense of sound barrier walls. People who live in the residential areas behind those walls do not want to hear highway noise. I can't blame them. But for a traveler like me, architecture, not establishments make all the difference. For example, you are not likely to see an adobe house in a place where rains falls steadily, but they are abundant in arid areas like Arizona or New Mexico. However, if I can't see the houses behind those retaining walls I have trouble distinguishing which town I might be in. In fact, save for architecture, the towns are starting to look the same.
Am I just travel weary? Or am I on to something?
Leaving Denver on my second extensive bus ride, I ponder this thought. With my newly reconstructed family tearfully left behind I stare out the bus window. My heart is still with them but my eyes rove the cityscape. Denver is a beautiful city, what I can see of it through breaks in the sound barrier walls. Such a pity I can't seem to get a fix on this city for those walls! I can see the Sportsplex and the skyline but when it comes to seeing residential areas and distinctive architecture, that is blocked out.
It seems people want the convenience of the freeway through town, just not in their backyard. Can you blame them?
Alan, our bus driver, makes it easy to distinguish one city from the next. He is the one that piloted the coach I was on into Denver, and now he chauffeurs me back out. It is a good thing, too. He was still in the terminal and recognized me from the week prior. He asked to see my ticket and remarked how lucky I am that we ran into each other, otherwise I would have missed my bus! For some reason I thought I was supposed to prepare to board the bus at 12:15, when in fact it was due to leave at that time. Alan stowed my luggage personally and found me a seat on his bus, even though he had already turned in his passenger counts and was ready to roll. See how serendipity guides my moves?
On Alan’s bus you always know which city you’re rolling into, whether there are walls or not. He is prompt on the mike (each bus has a P.A. system for the driver to make announcements over) and always offers up little anecdotes and tidbits that make each city remarkable and unique. He also does not mind reporting on the status of bus, especially in this case, because the bus was overheating. Negotiating the ups and downs of the Colorado Rockies was proving too much for that coach’s engine. Thanks goes to Alan for how I came to know that we broke down in Idaho Falls, a city known for its mining history.
Usually bus breakdowns are not charitable events. Nor are vehicle breakdowns of any kind, for that matter. Doesn’t it always seem that your tire goes flat at the most inconvenient times and places? And what about your radiator spewing steam or the engine just dying? Our bus decided to be kind and break down in a populated area, where Alan could pull into a shopping center parking lot, right across from the post office and a Museum of Mining History.
And that is where I’ll leave us for now. Alan is fuming because Maintenance is being non-responsive – other than telling him he should park the bus until they can dispatch a truck or another bus. We’ll end up stranded for about 3 hours. It is OK, though: you and I have people to meet… but that will be the next entry.
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