Intro

Welcome to a story, or stories I should say. A compilation of adventure tales. An ongoing itch to see, smell, and touch the world, or at least the deserted roads and rarely trampled mountains of America. Characters within the descriptive paragraphs of these stories carve out the coming and going companions in life; vital life people and pieces that parallel a universe for moments, days, years. And then spear off, leaving granules of magnificent memories of magical places. They leave a lasting trace, a gained sense of courage to stand tall on oxygen deprived mountains and shout absurdities like: I love you Ralph! Ralph is a teenage reindeer stuffed of the finest synthetic polyester fiber poof; he says made in Indonesia but really tells me he is from the North Pole. Delivered through a chimney one December night 20 years ago, we instantly became cuddle buddies upon that morning's sunrise. He is the instigator. The inspiration. And the imagination. He breathes creativity. Laughter. His is a dear companion. And yes, at 4lbs he tags along atop a pack or strapped to a rack. In delirium of 107 degree heat, the small possession of material belongings gain a persona. Innate objects become friends of the road and trails. And as for the humans who accompany, their presence reads priceless. Without O'Reilly, a 29 year old New Hampshirian with superior taste buds, the mathematical six foot four inch tall German, or handful of organic peanut butter and 99 cent jam eating munchkins, there would be a lot less excitement. The encounters we make with our specie, encapsulating the world with their awkward ways and over consumerist love, somehow we have managed to become overly adored creatures. Their generous hearts restore a faith that goodness prevails in the upheaval of a sometimes lost humanity. As for myself, I'm just the navigator, paddling up the stream of life munching on Clif Bars, with an iPhone documenting the frailties and goodies underneath all the simplified complexities in the world we reside. So again, I welcome you to get lost and dream a little through this typed text and your imagination. My name is Kristen Gentilucci. I live in Berkeley California and I love dogs.


Wednesday, June 6, 2012

A Goodbye to Home


Here I am, wide awake, in my bed 3:56 am, my last night in my fluffy warm cozy room, the last night in the place I once called home, my life in boxes in the next room awaiting their transport to their 5x5 dark and sterol storage for the summer. I think we realize we are getting old when our lives no longer fit in the backseat of the car, a car. When did this all happen?

5 days to departure. At the start of a bicycle race I am about to shit in my pants, my heart pounding through my jersey, thoughts to just hop onto the sideline a watch. And here I am about to ride across the country, and only excitement is oozing out of skin. Can't really explain it, but I like it. 

I realized today that how many times in life can one just up and leave it all behind, quit the day job, rid life of belongings, and somehow still be OK. When seeing life packed up into a bunch of square brown cubes things became a lot clear. To me it equals dog, bicycle, family, and friends. I guess I can only say, live your dreams now! And never stop trying.  

And so I am just waiting for just a few more days to pass...waiting to learn about how to build a house and eat tons of watermelons. We are ready, even our 10 week scavenger hunt is all printed out. Because didn't you always want to take photos with the biggest lawn chair in the USA, and go through a drive through on your bicycle, and eat 10 bananas in one day, and fry and egg on the pavement, wear your helmet to dinner, and get ice cream bought for you on a hot day, find some bison, and burnt umber crayons in the middle of the country, and have a photo of you taken in a storefront display window in full bike gear. The list goes on... for pages.

My life condensed down to one pair of jean shorts, lots of spandex, and a pair of cycling shoes from the 80's. My most prized luxury possession for this trip, my pillow! 

Ok, I'll leave you with that. More to come very very soon. Next time, from the state of Maine.