Texas hasn’t exactly given me the warmest welcome yet. This place is like another
world to me. Much more foreign than mexico. My plan was to stay the night at
the youth hostel in El Paso. It was a bitch to find though - driving through
El Paso you cross Mesa street twice. It curves around like a horse shoe and
I took the first (wrong) exit having to drive through all the ugly stucco target
shopping centers.Finally I cross the 10 again and come to one of the most rundown
downtowns I have ever seen. At nine o’clock the place was like a ghost town
- only some scattered xmas lights as proof of civilization.

A brisk wind hit me as soon as I opened the car door so I closed my jacket,
crossed my arms, and shivered my way inside.

Where I found myself a mini-Bush. Straight out cowboy. Only thing missing was
the stetson.

"Any dorm beds available," I asked.
"You gotch yerself a card son?"

I had to hide my smile. I assumed he was asking about an HI membership card.
I explained that I had one, but that my wallet was stolen in Barcelona.

"In Barceelona, is dat right?" Then all of a sudden, "well,
what that means for you and me is dat you ain’t a member."

I couldn’t believe it. All of a sudden I understood why Alex - the engineer
from Georgia who I met in Tucson and had been traveling around the US - took
the time to explain to me that Egypt was in Northern Africa.

I didn’t even say anything. I just raised my eyebrows.

"So wut dat means is yer gonna have to pay yerself full price."
"Which is?"
"$24.05 … dats after tax and before der extra two bucks if you ain’t
got yer own sheets."

He spoke in such a slow draw that I found myself squinting my eyes at him,
trying to force out some kinda rationality. Driving into El Paso I saw plenty
of roadside motels for $23, $24 a night. I told him I’d take a look around and
then maybe come back. I should’ve come up with something better than that. But
I was more in awe than angry or even frustrated.

So I drove around, down Mesa and back up Main, desperately looking for some
sign of anything in El Paso, Texas. I’m sure it exists, but I did not find it.
And so now I’m in a gas station in Van Horn, Texas with just as much nothing,
but at least not trying to hide it.

Just ate a way too spicy chicken fajito burrito with microwaved chicken and
limp greasy onions and am now sipping on some half folgers, half hot chocolate
ready to get back on the road. I’ll probably end up passing out in some rest
stop around 4 in the morning and trying to marathon it to Austin by tomorrow.
Austin’s gonna be a little out of my way, but it’s a town I’ve wanted to see
for a while.

Lots of cute chicano girls in baggy clothes with too much make up on in these
parts. Everyone drives a truck. I dont’ think I’ve seen another car on the road
with Texas plates yet. The stars look closer here than in California.

Everything seems so foreign. They have Nemo’s brownies and carrot cakes in
the fridge - a comforting reminder of Simone and home.