These pictures were all taken in Chicago’s Millenium Park. The first one is called “Cloud Gate”, but is commonly referred to as “The Bean”. It was inspired by a drop of liquid mercury and is made of shiny stainless steel which reflects everything around it. The picture was taken from underneath, looking upward. At first it struck me as kind of a corny gimmick, but then when you see the kind of excitement and fun it produces, it’s hard to imagine that a traditional statue would encourage this kind of interaction.

The next two pictures are of the Crown Fountain.  There is a giant wall at each end of a wading pool and each of them projects a face of a Chicago resident.  As you can see in the two photos, the face changes expressions.  From time to time, water spurts out of the mouth – which was modeled after gargoyles.  There were throngs of school-age kids playing in the water and standing next to the walls where the water was dripping down on their heads.  When the water would spurt from the mouths, you could hear the screaming as people rushed to get drenched.

I could imagine the artists of these sculptures watching with a great deal of satisfaction as they witnessed the excitement and fun that these works have encouraged.

3000 miles, 6 days, 5 budget motels, 1 breakdown, countless bad meals, and my dog still knows me!

After driving north all day from Tucson and Phoenix, pine trees start to appear and you realize that you’ve climbed to 7000 feet by the time you reach Flagstaff. For the first time on our trip, the temperature was pleasant and we continued on to the Grand Canyon, trying to get there before the sun went down. When we reached the viewing area, we stood with tourists from throughout the world – Germany, Denmark, Italy, England, and Japan. Like us, they were all speaking in hushed tones which reflected the awe and respect that we all felt for the miraculous sight in front of us. Some of us walked gingerly down to the viewing areas perched on the edge of the cliff, clinging to the railing on the side away from the edge. You couldn’t see too much by looking to the west, where the canyon was completely in shadow, but if you looked upstream, the colors were spectacular. Directly below us, there was a glimpse of the trail leading to a tiny sliver of the river that was visible from our vantage point. Someday, I hope to return and hike that trail.

One of my goals for this trip had been to help Joe and Eric stop and appreciate the beauty and variety of our vast country. When we agreed to make the trip together, I had suggested, for starters, that we stop and see New Orleans and the Grand Canyon. Judging by their reactions, I don’t think that any of us will ever forget this trip.

We visited this army surplus store in Tucson while we were waiting for our car to be repaired. The owner had a selection of ammunition used by the military in Iraq and was explaining to a customer what kind of carnage each one could cause. He told a story about how Katie Courac had interviewed a U.S. Marine sniper in Iraq and had asked him what he felt when he shot and killed an enemy soldier with a high-powered weapon. “A slight recoil,” the Marine answered. The store owner seemed to enjoy this response, and had an article about the story taped to his cash register.

Remember that thing about “Cali or Bust” a few days ago? Well, the fuel pump busted and we’re stuck in Tucson overnight. The temperature is about 105, but Will and Mark at Will’s Auto Repair are taking good care of us – gave us a ride to the mall to watch a movie and then later to a motel. Fortunately, everything has air conditioning and we were back on the road by noon the next day.

I guess even cars need to pause for a purpose every now and then!

It took all day to cross Texas, from Austin to El Paso. Somewhere out in the middle, we came upon this sign. It wasn’t until I uploaded it that I noticed the word “old” in the middle of the bottom line. West Texas gets pretty dry and monotonous, but there is some really interesting country in the middle of the state – lots more hills and trees than I would expect. We also passed through Johnson City – a very interesting looking old-timey place near where LBJ used to have his ranch. I still remember them talking about him spending time at the “Texas Whitehouse” and had imagined that it was a dusty God-forsaken place. It’s actually beautiful country, and I could see why the president would want to get out of Washington and spend some time there.

Another city that I had never visited, but was very curious to see. They say that Austin is the place to visit for live music, especially for a different flavor of country music than what you might find in Nashville. On the Saturday night when I visited, 6th Street was blocked off to traffic and you could sample all kinds of music as you strolled down the street, much like on Bourbon Street in New Orleans, but not quite as crazy – almost, though.

We did another kind of sampling at the Salt Lick barbecue a half-hour out of town. After wolfing down their combo plate of brisket, pork ribs, and sausage, they actually ask you if you’d like a refill and then bring you another heaping plate. We could barely find room for the pecan pie!

It seems that my fellow wanderer, Matt (from Where the Hell is Matt) was in town at just about the same time.

This was my first visit to New Orleans and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, post-Katrina. We entered the city by crossing Lake Pontchartrain on a long causeway next to a bridge being built to replace the one that was destroyed during Katrina. When we reached the city, we could see homes that were damaged and destroyed during the hurricane and there was a general “down and out” feel to the neighborhood that we crossed while trying to find the French Quarter. There were a number of homeless people and boarded up buildings. I imagined that this neighborhood was not too prosperous prior to Katrina, but that it was in really bad shape now.

Then when we entered the French Quarter, everything changed. There was little or no evidence of Katrina and the quarter had a European feel with the narrow cobbled streets, ancient buildings and wrought iron balconies. We had dinner at a restaurant in the old French Market and sampled jambalaya, red beans and rice and a gumbo. We then had beignets for dessert at the Cafe du Mond down the street.

Bourbon street that night (it was a Friday) was insane. As you walked down the street, you could hear four or five different kinds of live music coming from the clubs and bars, people were standing on balconies throwing beaded necklaces to the crowd, there were street performers, strip clubs, you name it. It’s hard to imagine just how much more crazy it might be during Mardi Gras.

The audio clip gives a sampling of the sounds of Bourbon Street, starting with some street performers who are (jokingly, I hope) threatening to rob the crowd if they don’t contribute when the hat is passed and ending with the band and dancer pictured above.

We leave central Florida at 4:30 in the morning and head for New Orleans.

It’s hard to draw any easy conclusions from his findings. The United States, home of the happy hour, the happy ending and the smiley face, did not rate particularly high on the happiness scale, nor did Holland where people are often drawn in the pursuit of pleasure. He found that a fairly wealthy country, Switzerland, and a poor one, Bhutan, had happy populations perhaps due to the beauty of nature there. Not surprisingly, Russia was found to be a somewhat unhappy place, but Iceland – with it’s six months of cold and darkness was actually a fairly happy country.

Weiner points out that Americans, more than people from other countries, tend to believe that they can find happiness by traveling or even moving to another (happier) place. This makes sense, since the United States was populated by people who emigrated here from other lands in the pursuit of happiness.

I have always thought that Americans were known for traveling and that it was a right-of-passage for young Americans to take a journey with a backpack throughout Europe or some other part of the globe. Maybe things have changed with the weakening of the dollar and the fearfulness brought on by 9/11. In his blog Where the Hell is Matt? the author wanders around the world and films himself doing a little dance in each country he visits. Despite traveling tens of thousands of miles a year, he made this observation about himself and his fellow Americans in a recent post.

I didn’t invent world travel. I’m not even particularly good at it. There are lots and lots of people out there. It’s just that very few of them are American.

He contrasts this with his take on Australians:

I have an unabashed fondness for Australians — especially as travelers. They’ve got a sensibility that makes them really good at it. They’re tough, they don’t complain, and they can manage to laugh about pretty much any situation, no matter how bleak or miserable.

Matt travels to some pretty unusual places that require an adventurous spirit. I wonder if his conclusions about Americans not being out there in large numbers are accurate. I wonder, too, what this says about the theory that Americans search for happiness through their happy feet. I’m also wondering how Australians rate on the happiness scale.

Does happiness come from within, or does it come from the places where we live or visit?