Terra Nova

Newfoundland -- first mapped as "Terra Nova" -- and Labrador, named for a Portuguese sailor, meaning "landowner" -- look cool on the map of North America, and because they're huge, mostly roadless, difficult to access, and nobody I know has been there, and I was seeking myself because I'd lost myself--that much I knew, but not how or when--after four years of yearning to do it I chose to spend 12 days in the province in northeastern Canada that seemed to mirror me.

Towns such as L'ans Amor ("Love Cove"; formerly named L'ans a Mort, "Cove of Death," but I'm told tourists like sweeter names), with a population of 6, are common. The words for this land are "pristine" and "extreme." The green and blue ocean is clear to its bottom; icebergs and whales swan by. Winters are abrupt, long, and bitter; no fruits, vegetables, or grains grow there; except for fish there's no farming or processing; all other products must be shipped in. You eat seafood and potatoes, and pay $2.50 for an orange. Polar bears ride into tiny towns on icebergs from Greenland and ransack houses. Jacques Cartier called it "the land that God gave Cain." Yet in June, July, and August pointed black and white fir trees cover the coasts, and lakes, rivers, mountains, and wildflowers; just now the wild irises are blooming. In Labrador it was 55 degrees and fleece was my best friend.

The road in the photo, in western Newfoundland near the Gros Morne ("Big Sad One") National Park, looks nice, but half of it is under construction, impossible at any other time of year. We didn't get to Blow Me Down Provincial Park on the west side of the island. The roads in Labrador, on the other hand, are terrible, all of them, every inch, period; the partially paved Trans-Labrador Highway breaks the suspensions and axles of buses. Awesome. Extreme. With trackless sea and stone and fjords and icebergs and timber you get a sense of the entire planet. And I got a sense of my place in it and that there might be more to the story of my life.

Getting Their Kicks

These four ladies said they're traveling old Route 66 end to end, and this great American road trip takes you through Pacific and by the landmark quonset hut that since the Route 66 days has been a cafe. Currently it's called the Down South Cafe, at 409 East Osage--Osage Street is what Pacific calls old 66 as it passes the prison and the silica mine, the shuttered Red Cedars restaurant, and the business district, out to the Diamonds Motel. Down South is just across from the hardware store where I happened to be at lunchtime and dropped in and ordered gumbo and a veggie burger (it's too hot to eat fried meats) and fries (it's never too hot to eat fries, though) and pecan pie with a dot of whipped cream. Also on the menu, red beans and rice and fried crawfish. The veggie burger was a good one and the gumbo 'most as good as mine.

I said, "You ladies look so happy I would like to take your picture," and one lady said, "Course we look happy. Everybody's happy when they're feedin' their faces." When they left I said bon voyage. The cafe's concave walls are decorated with the absolutely required car and gasoline signs and mementoes; painted on one wall, a stylized map of Route 66, from Chicago to Los Angeles, with a yellow star for "You are Here" at the center of the universe, Pacific, MO. And there is nothing in the universe better than lunch with a cup of coffee, and, in the summer, ice water or sweet tea in red plastic tumblers.

A Wal-Mart Weekend

Drove to Bentonville, Arkansas, original home of Wal-Mart, and ended up Saturday morning with the locals at the farmer's market on the quaint and very green main square in the town center, with its two-story monument to soldiers of the Confederacy. There was kohlrabi and chard aplenty, and buckwheat crepes, and musical entertainment provided by a hot duo called The Tin Pan Alley Cats (a cover of "Your Cheatin' Heart" that would do Hank Senior proud). But the big draw for all the out-of-state cars was the place pictured above, on Main and Central, the original Sam Walton five-and-dime store, seed for all the Wal-Marts that have taken over the planet since. People make "pilgrimages" to this place, honest Injun, and Wal-Mart is working on a Wal-Mart Museum and a high-end art museum that will bring the longhairs to town as well. I myself am a big fan of peopleofwalmart.com.

My friend Reeve, after showing me downtown Bentonville, also took me to my very first Sam's Club. I'd never been to a Sam's Club; it makes no sense for one person to buy a membership and purchase in such obscene bulk as you can buy at Sam's Club, but this place was the size of four football fields and stacked to the ceiling with everything except "Soul Seasoning" in the spice section, which I use to season my greens. They just did not carry it. I was AMAZED that purchased items are not bagged and that you must hand the cash-register receipt to a person at the exit who checks your items against your receipt before he lets you go. I mean, you wait in LINE to get OUT of the store. It was so very East Berlin! Those Sam's Club workers were earning their money. The way the place was set up so diabolically clever, that everywhere you looked, you suddenly felt you NEEDED an above-ground pool, huge bags of dog food, gallons of shampoo: Reeve bought $87 worth of cheese in huge bricks you could build a house with. Why, my jaw hit the floor right there.

Eureka Springs, Arkansas

A pretty, very hilly town in Lovely County, Arkansas, the town of Eureka Springs was once famous for mineral baths and miraculous cures, and still has beautiful hotels and Victorian buildings, specializing in porches and balconies, because there's a divine view absolutely everywhere. Fun to visit. Here is the Bath House Boast, proving they had public relations in those pre-neon days, too. Although there's no mineral baths, visitors can still get spa treatments and massages. Difficult town to live in, I am told. After visiting four years ago, I returned to see lots of shops closed along Main Street (that's right next to Mud Street) and many gorgeous hillside houses for sale or rent. Right over the border from Blue Eye, Missouri.