As a pensioner from Minsk traveled independently in the USA

Photo by the author

Elena Rudenko is a professor at the Belarusian State University, and a doctor of philological sciences, and for some time a pensioner. Recently she was offered to read lectures at two universities in the western United States. Elena went overseas, and later traveled independently around the country in a rented car. She wrote about her American impressions and unexpected encounters for TUT.BY.

“I seriously thought: whose teachers work the most - ours or the American?”

Since I was left alone, all the time I was kicking myself that now no one is responsible for me and no one will solve anything. Pinky did not help much, and I realized that the time had come to take radical measures. In the end, I'm already a big girl - just now retired.

The route I invented was such that the roads had accumulated three thousand miles (4,8 thousands of kilometers), but alone, but in a foreign country ... But from being able to drive through eight states, through three of which runs the legendary highway number 1, I was dizzy and dizzy recognize: this is a challenge, whatever one may say.

I was supported by the beloved and only son who has long lived in Europe. With a firm hand, he bought me comfortable tickets: from home to San Francisco and back from Los Angeles, saying: "Mom, look at everything properly, you need adventure!". He also provided me with mobile internet and was always in touch.

To San Francisco, I flew for twelve hours on a non-stop flight, and all this time was a day. On the way, I talked with a neighbor, a Spanish teacher in a Fresno school (a city in the state of California). Once a year, Lori can take her students to Europe - look at cultural values. As a good teacher, she spoke to them only in Spanish, and tall teenagers unconditionally observed the rules of the game.

Фото: Depositphotos

As it turned out, in her normal life she had six lessons every day, without exception, and in the evening two or three piles of work and preparation for a new school day. I seriously thought: whose teachers work most - ours or American? But the salary allows Laurie to adequately maintain the house, to travel in her free time and, in general, to smear bread with butter.

Before that, I was already in the States. But, as it turned out, she was not ready for all the little things. During the last trip, I already rented a car in a small American city. Therefore, a false stereotype has been laid in the mind that they thoughtfully talk, show, explain and escort the client before leaving the garage. It turns out that another situation is possible.

The car on which the heroine traveled material

For example, in the US, for some reason, a car card is needed for car rental: neither a debit card nor a cache are suitable. And began a long and fruitless dialogue. “Do you have another card?” - “No, only this one”. - “Maybe there is still some?” - “Alas”. - "I will ask the supervisor." - "Ask." - “He is still busy. Do you have another card? ” I was tired, and I blinked at my eyes, just like an elderly idiot should say: “But you’ve already withdrawn money from my card. Then she approached you. ” Here, by the way, and the supervisor was released, ordered to issue a new contract - the whole business.

After that, I already initiated an idiotic, in the opinion of normal Americans, dialogue: “Who will show me the car?” - “The car in the 3 zone. Keys in the car. None of us go there. ” - “And if there are scratches on it?” - “Do you have insurance?” - “And if the tire bursts?” - “You can buy additional insurance for 350 dollars” - “Thank you, no! What to do in case of an accident? ”-“ Call the number of bla-bla-bla. ” - “Is there a spare wheel in the car?” - “Right, I don’t know ... Usually everything is in order there ... But please, check the number of blah blah blah.”

Фото: Depositphotos

I realized that "Call the number ..." - this is the answer to my questions 50, and went to the 3 zone for a mile. Only Chevrolet (instead of the ordered KIA) taken away from under my nose. I already dreamed of going on a trip by plane, when my uncle in uniform and with a computer intercepted me: “Stand here, now you’ll have a machine”. I did not have time to escape - I was driven Hyundaiand I went.

As I was driving with sweaty palms and a wet back on the traffic of San Francisco and further through the Golden Gate - I remember badly, because I was driving through the city for the first time. Now, what I wanted most was to get out of San Francisco, and Golden gates flashed in the fog.

Reaching the ocean, I set off along the legendary road No. 1 to the north. On the way, many things surprised me, in particular, the number of lonely travelers. Shoreline highway (Coastal Highway) - a tourist spot, even in early spring. Men, young and older, older ladies, young girls in cars one by one - a common phenomenon. We, perhaps, do not see so many lonely travelers.

"Bumper peeled off, there is no spare, one in a forest in a foreign country thousands of kilometers from home"

Фото: Depositphotos

Once in a minor accident (one young lady behind the wheel kicked in my rear bumper Hyundai, and even made me guilty), I realized that there was no spare wheel in the car!

For any of our driver is a disaster! Severe checkups have taught that the lack of a spare wheel is a terrible crime and a threat to life. I rushed to call my son, forgetting that he had a deaf night. He explained: there are no spare wheels in American cars, because only a few Americans can change a wheel. “What if it blows ?!” - “You will call a special team” - “And by what number ?!” - “You google” - “And if there is no connection ?!” - “Mom, can I go to sleep until is the wheel still whole? ”

And I was left alone with my fears. The bumper is torn off, there are no spare wheels, one in a forest in a foreign country thousands of kilometers from the house ... I remembered that there are more problems, I shed a few tears and went further.

Фото: Depositphotos

Highway No. 1 - the road is difficult, but beautiful. Up and down, left and right, twenty miles per hour. Ocean, pine, redwoods.

Difficult morning did not knock me out of the rut. The first meal at the ocean - a sandwich with freshly caught shrimps and avocado (shrimps crammed from the heart!) - and I was again ready to enjoy life.

I went and looked, stopped and looked, sat on the shore and looked. The ocean overwhelmed me, and for this one could give very, very much.

I drove a lot of national and state parks. As you know, in the US, their creation and development is a national sport. Nowhere are they as many as in America, and nowhere are they so proud and cherished as here.

Фото: Depositphotos

One of the protected areas on my way was the famous Fort Ross - the southernmost Russian fortress of the XIX century in North America.

After spending the night in a motel in a small town, I continued on my journey and went to Glass beach - the coast, known for having accumulated on it a lot of glass pieces, polished by the ocean. I did not find a piece of glass, but the coast was already fine. Then the road number 1 was removed from the ocean, and I went into the interior of the country.

“A hefty tanker, covered in earrings and rivets, patiently and carefully showed the fragile old woman a detour on a paper map”

Already not far from the Giants' Road in Redwood, the detour sign made me turn onto a secondary road. I immediately ceased to understand where I am: all devices turned off. The road was terrible! Gravelite, 20 miles per hour, up-down-right-left ...

In the wild forest on the side of the road voted a young man. He looked dubious and dirty, but I took it. The young man cheerfully sat down next to me and immediately asked for food. While he minted my bread with water (there was nothing more) and told everything about his life, seven pots left me on a terrible road. The young man, of course, was a musician and traveled around the States in pursuit of fame ... And I thought: here he is, my guardian angel, sent to save me from a lonely death in an unknown wilderness.

It was here, dazed, I saw the most huge redwoods and their huge stumps. Trees with such stumps can pray! And I haven't even really photographed them!

In two hours we drove thirty miles (48 kilometers), and I cautiously asked my fellow traveler if he knew where we were going. He happily assured that the road crazybut will lead where necessary. “Where necessary” turned out to be a tiny town. The young man somehow quietly went out (the angel did his job - the angel can leave), and I drove to the gas station.

At the gas station spontaneously formed point of assistance on the roads. As it turned out, because of the collapse to the north, two routes were blocked at once: the first and the hundred and first. Three workers of a small gas station met everyone stuck in the town, competently explained the detour scheme, fed, poured fuel and sent off. I myself saw how a hefty tanker, covered in earrings and rivets, patiently and carefully showed the fragile old woman a detour through the paper map.

They didn’t stand on ceremony with me: the same guy took my phone and laid a new route. They wished me a happy journey - and then they forgot. I immediately remembered the words of American friends: "Small Towns -"strong bone (strong bone) of america».

I drove eighty-five miles (136 kilometers) south to turn onto Highway No. 5, and drove first to Lucerne and then Nice. Right it was written: Welcome to American Switzerland!

Photo by the author

I rode on the same track and soon noticed that I increasingly had to pull over to the side to let the tail that had accumulated behind me. I yielded and yielded, until I realized that the change of time zones takes its place and the journey becomes just dangerous.

On the shores of the vast US-Swiss Clear lake (Clear Lake), right by the water, I saw a small motel Lake marina inn.

Photo by the author

A clear-eyed Indian girl gave me a number right on the water. There was a large room with a huge bed and a private kitchen: a table with a tablecloth, a stove, a microwave, a refrigerator and lots of utensils. The windows looked at different sides of the lake. Commemorating the motel, where I stayed last night (it was one and a half times more expensive), sighed at the windows with my own happiness and fell into bed until the evening. In the evening I ate and fell asleep again, seriously considering staying here for a few more days.

Bye-bye in the morning with a wonderful lake, I drove north along the fifth highway. The highway is the highway, and four hundred miles (643 kilometers) flew almost unnoticed. If the 90 speed is miles per hour (about 144 kilometers), then you don’t really look around. The road runs in the folds of the Cascade Mountains, the places are very beautiful, and I overcame a couple of passes.

Each of the western states of the United States has its main mountain, in California it is Shasta. It was her that I looked around, having a snack at the next gas station. By the way, I advise you never to leave less than half a pack of gas. American distances are huge and often completely deserted.

When I reached Oregon, I turned back to the ocean. The road to the west, of course, went through the mountains, and the nature was just gorgeous.

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