Assuming that the Mayans were right…. or rather, assuming that some interpretations of the end of the Mayan calendar were right…
This is it.
My last day on earth, and certainly my last post on One Crafty Lady.
Taking that into consideration, my day today in Sarasota, FL was probably a pretty good way to ring in the end of human civilization:
After spending the morning at Lido Beach, the three muskateers (that’s me, the gf, and her mom) had lunch at the delightfully tacky Daiquiri Deck in Siesta Village. Tacky in a good way… Sports on TV, good service, a table above the street, and country music in the background. I had a nice chicken fajita wrap and key lime pie. I mean, you can’t come to Florida and not eat key lie pie, right?
Lauren at the beach
Anyway, after lunch we headed to the acclaimed Siesta Beach. I’ve been on plenty of beaches, but “they” say this one is #1 in the US. I can’t confirm or deny this, but I will say that Siesta Beach is big, uncrowded (at least today it was), and full of soft white sand like I’ve never seen*.
And as I type, I’m enjoying a nice salad, glass of wine, good company, streaming wifi, and freshly washed hair. A nice way to spend the end of the world.
* After reading a historical marker, I came to find out that the unbelievably soft sand on Siesta Key is mostly quartz that came down rivers as sediment from the Appalachian Mountains. Given some of my previous travels, I found this to be especially apropos.
On a Thanksgiving Day pre-turkey jaunt through downtown Crytal Lake, IL, it seemed only fitting that I pose with my mother for a thumbs up. You see, this is the town in which I spent most of my former years (well, technically Cary, but I don’t like to talk about it). Also fitting is the guy behind us photo bombing our picture.
The barista insisted that it’s a good year for Christmas Blend. Let’s hope he’s right.
When an occasional chance to get out of town for a minute presents itself, I have a “just say yes” policy. I love trips in the car… staring out at the world as it passes me by. I find it to be really peaceful.
Anyway, a day trip to Lafayette, IN was on the docket for Saturday. A shining star in the middle of a corn infested, flat-as-a-pancake, Wal-Mart-centric state, Lafayette is hilly, and decidedly hip – at least, for Indiana. So while I might have passed on, say, a trip to Hobart, I knew that Lafayette would be a nice treat.
While the gf attended a rehearsal I wandered around Purdue’s beautiful campus, in search of wifi and a cozy nook in which to get some work done. Apparently, if you want wifi anywhere on campus you have to request it weeks in advance. So, after twiddling my thumbs and running software updates on my computer for about half an hour, I walked into a little downtown-ish area and found the Greyhouse Cafe.
Wifi: check.
Nook: check.
Really big and delicious hot chocolate: check. check.
This is a serious college town coffee shop. Hipsters wearing bandanas make beautiful foam in enormous for-here mugs and there are easily 40 seats with their own power outlets. Apparently you can order a crepe, which I hear are good, and take about 45 minutes to prepare in the kitchen. It doesn’t matter, because Greyhouse is a place you want to stay for hours.
Pop Art cow at the Dairy Adventure
On the return trip, we stopped at the mysterious Fair Oaks Farm off of I-65 in Fair Oaks, IN. Having passed the self-proclaimed “Dairy Adventure” on numerous trips through Indiana, it’s a place that has always piqued my curiosity, though never enough to stop… until now.
After my recent up-close and personal day with a flock of turkeys, I wasn’t certain how this was going to measure up, but thought it could be interesting to see the birthing barn. When we found out it was twelve dollars each to board a black and white camouflaged school bus to see a cow or five, I thought better of it and ultimately passed on the whole Dairy Adventure. The cafe/gift shop was really enough for me to get the idea that a couple of midwestern dairy farmers likely got drunk one night and decided to transform their struggling farm into an over-commercialized Six Flags Over Fair Oaks, IN. I will say, however, that the grilled cheese was one of the best I’ve ever had, and I would go back again, if on I-65, simply for that reason.
I know what you’re thinking… haven’t you visited this Starbucks before, Lauren? No, not really. It’s just that it’s an exact replica of the Belvidere Oasis. This one is off (or rather, on top of) Highway 294 near the airport, and I visited on my way to Aurora to see Olivia Newton-John in concert.
Yes. That Olivia Newton-John.
Anyway, though thankful for the caffeine jolt, this was a rather odd Starbucks experience, hence my somewhat lack-luster smile. I asked for one of my favorites: a short Americano with the shot on top. I was told that they don’t make short anything, while the cashier had her hands on a bunch of short cups.
“Uh, ok, how about a short coffee?”
No, they only have tall.
“Um, ok, what about a single espresso?”
This they understood. Apparently, there is no price listed for a short Americano. I asked why they had short cups, and she said, “Oh, that’s for the kiddy cocoa.”
That’s cool, but here’s the thing: you could have easily charged me for the one shot of espresso, and added a bunch of hot water to it in one of those short cups. If she were to ever visit another store, she might realize that Americanos are priced simply on the espresso shots.
The water is free.
Anyway, I’m sure this nice lady doesn’t make a habit of traversing the world for Starbucks-es as I do, and to be honest, I didn’t have that revelation about the water until I was back in the car drinking a cold shot of espresso doused in half and half.
I will say, also, that the espresso shot itself was very, very nice.
I learned a lot about people on my trip to Sturgis. Traveling with a big group can present its challenges, but it can also make for a safe and enriching experience that you wouldn’t have otherwise had. Though not typically one for etiquette guides, these are the lessons I’ve picked up during my years of travel.
Disclaimer: Sturgis was a lovely trip. Big thank you’s go out to the fearless leaders who organized the trip, the gracious followers, and a big cheers that we all have come out of it with friendships in tact.
The lookout point for Devil’s Tower, WY. These happy, smiley faces are having a winner vacation because we all followed the do’s and don’ts of group travel
Lauren’s guide to safe and happy travels in groups:
DO pick your battles. Traveling in large groups is a lesson in diplomacy. DON’T be that one chick who argues about everything. But, this is your vacation too. So if you’re not happy with a group decision to the point that it affects your good times, speak up. Otherwise, learn to let it go.
DO pick a leader, and
DON’T be a jerk if the leader is you. Check with the group and, if it comes down to it, take a vote, draw straws, play rock-paper-scissors. Again, group travel is a lesson in diplomacy. And democracy. Just because you’re the leader doesn’t mean that it’s your job to make all the decisions.
DO have an itinerary, and
DO share it with the ENTIRE group, but
DO let people stray from it. We’re all adults here. Establish meeting places and times, put them on printed out itineraries, and then divide and conquer. A group can get real hostile real fast if you spend too much time together, and many friendships have been broken up over a vacation. That’s lame.
DON’T forget to pitch in. Even if you’re not a leader or a naturally assertive person, don’t be afraid to put your hand in and help. Vacation is work, especially in a big group, and no one appreciates you coasting while we’re busy taking out the trash and washing dishes. If you can’t get anywhere verbally (e.g. “Can I help? Anything I can do?” doesn’t always get a task assigned to you… the leader will say, “No I got it”) just dive in and do something.
DO embrace the group experience. Be a joiner and recognize that your great lodging and awesome excursions might not have been possible without the support (financial, that is) of the group. It’s also way safer, especially when you’re traveling in places that are out of cell phone range.
That said, DON’T forget to create your own experience. This is your vacation too. If there’s something you want to see or do, do it.
The Belvidere Oasis was the VERY last pit stop on our 1,000 mile journey from Sturis, SD back to Chicago. Having travelled the high plains in severe cross-winds the first day and persistent rain the second, these tired bikers deserved nothing better the a high-priced premium coffee, and their amazing accomplishment (and fast baristas cranking out, like, 12 caramel macchiatos) earns a BIG thumbs up.
Rolling up to the Crazy Horse Memorial, knowing nothing about what I was here to see, my group looked around at each other confused and thought, uh, hmm, what exactly are we looking at here? I mean, it’s a big rock with a hole in the middle….
Wrong…
WAY wrong…
As we got closer, I realized what we were looking at, and now that I’ve seen Crazy Horse I don’t think many things can parallel that experience. After 100 years of dynamite blasts and the meticulous sculpting of a rocky face in the Black Hills, what is to become the Crazy Horse Memorial is not nearly finished, and likely won’t be within my lifetime. The family spearheading the project is carrying on the work of Korczak Ziolkowski, an apprentice to the guy who carved Mount Rushmore.
The way I understand it, Crazy Horse was the leader of the Lakota tribe, and as people and government moved Westward, he was instrumental in trying to protect Native American land. We all know how that turned out, but Crazy Horse is still considered one of the most iconic American Indians to ever live.
The carved outline of his face and hand pointing East toward his Land as he stoically says:
“My land is where my dead lie buried.”
Crazy Horse statue and the unfinished rock sculpture in the distance. Photo by Kelly Soprych
With an insufficient number of laborers and the continued refusal of the Ziolkowski family to accept government funds for the project, it may very well take another 100 years for to finish the Memorial, if ever. But to witness the process and the stick-to-it-iveness of the men and woman dedicated to this project is humbling, and grounding, and downright awesome. That’s one big rock with a hole in the middle that I could see over and over again.
Knowing that the entire Mount Rushmore Memorial fits in Crazy Horse’s hair, I was a little less excited to see four dead presidents carved out of stone, but nonetheless the crazy ride down Iron Mountain Road through tunnels and switchbacks presented ample “wow!” moments for glimpsing Mt. Rushmore. I wouldn’t bother to pay to get into the actual memorial… Go through Custer State Park and save your $10 bucks for Crazy Horse instead.
The weight and significance of some of the natural and man-made beauties I saw juxtaposed with the lunacy of the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally made for one hell of a trip. Traveling with a big group for the first time since, like, high school, and with such a jam-packed, diverse experience, in one week I witnessed the best and worst of America, and the best and worst in myself.
I don’t think I’d really change anything about my time in the Black Hills, other than to have a little more of it. When in Rome you throw a coin over your shoulder into the Trevi Fountain to guarantee you’ll some day return to Rome. Gazing up at the profile of Crazy Horse from the veranda of his museum, I threw a penny over my shoulder, hoping that the same holds true for the Black Hills of South Dakota.
Lauren Warnecke 
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