Memorable Stories

I regret how little I had internet access and got a chance to update my blog during my trip. Below are a few highlights and excitement from West Texas onwards.


Two Texas Limos in Amarillo - Here was our first day off since New Orleans. We were so excited relax and live it up in the hoppin' town of Amarillo. To my delight (and surprise), I found a restaurant "the Big Texan" which promised to pick a group of us up in free-of-charge limos for their grand $8.95 breakfast buffet. Unfortunately, my dreams of my day off were shattered since as it turned out, I had to do laundry during the morning hours and was therefore unable to go over to the Big Texan. Since the original breakfast plan fell apart yet was never fully confirmed, I felt odd calling Tyson, my cowboy worker friend, to let him know that we went from being a maybe to a definite no. Assuming that maybe meant yes, he sent not one (as discussed) but two (a little excessive) limos to the downtown YMCA where we were staying. I luckily missed the fiasco--two confused drivers in full Texas cowboy gear wandering around the Y looking for some girl named Anna and a bunch of her friends-- since I was out doing laundry. Opps.

Cake in the Shoe - We got really hungry on the road. (I just realized that half of these stories are going to be about food which is quite appropriate.) One day right after the ride, we had two birthday cakes sitting around which we naturally start chowing down on without silverwear but with our unwashed, grease-covered hands. (Kinda gross, I know. Bike chain lube tastes horrible, fyi.) Nonetheless, we were still scrounging around for crumbs when the cake was gone. One of my leaders found a large chunk in someone's shoe -- intending to throw it away as a responsible and sane individual would, but he found himself in the midst of a conversation and out of instinct tossed the cake remnant into his mouth momentarily forgetting where it had come from.

Santa Fe Opera - Somehow the southern route turned out to be a tour of my mother's side of the family. I got a chance to see cousin Amy in New Orleans, the grandparents in their new home in Dallas, and then them again with Jill and Rex in Santa Fe. Here we enjoyed an evening at a summer production of La Boheme which was INCREDIBLE. It was my first opera and I was able to follow along the plot thanks to a pre-performance educational presentation in addition to my knowledge of Rent, the broadway play which took a lot of elements from the original opera. After that, they feed me a lot of really good food, allowed me to rest (on a couch -- a definite step up from gym floors), and we enjoyed a brief weekend wandering about Santa Fe.

Pie-Eating Romeo - Finding a deli for lunch in Arizona was a delightful break after the barren days of New Mexico and that desolate week to come in Nevada. Naturally, a typical sandwich was not enough for us hungry bike riders. So, as my friend Alf goes to order dessert, I whimsically (and mistakenly) joked that he couldn't eat the entire pie. Bets were wagered. I would pay for the pie if he could not finish OR finished then couldn't make it through the rest of the ride without booting. Low and behold, he ate the pie (which was not so tasty) and finished the ride. Ultimately, I would call the deal equal: I was out $15 for an overpriced pie, that I didn't eat, and Alf had to endure eating a sub-par pie and then riding the remain 35 miles with it in his stomach. (I am not at liberty to explain the second half of this nickname.)

The Plague - Nevada was difficult for its notorious headwinds (this was the only state where I was literally blown off the road), huge hills, and nothingness. But what we did not expect was the grand sickness (either food poisoning or a fast-hitting virus) that struck the vast majority of my team. At its worst, only eight of twenty-seven finished the ride. Six days later, we still had sick-ies in the van. When California finally came many long days later, this horrid disease finally subsided.

Life Jacket Bootie - With California came civilization as well as an extreme amount of tourists driving cars with motor boats attached and life jackets piled (unsecured) inside. One flew out onto the road and knowing that the owner would have little or no luck trying to find it after discovering it was missing and being against litter, my friend Rachel and I decided to pick it up and wear it for the remaining 25 miles of the day. Life jackets, unlike our bike and build jerseys, retain our body heat and sweat with two thick layers of plastic and tons of form making it not ideal of exercise in the afternoon. In order to not collapse of heat exhaustion, we switched back and forth. So, what do you do with a life jacket? We gave it as a birthday present to a tripmate who was notorious for picking up random stuff along the road.

Almost There!

Just a quick note while I have internet access before I take off for my penultimate day of biking...

We made it to California via the beautiful Lake Tahoe last Thursday and have since been trucking through the many mountain ranges and well-appreciated flat land. I am writing from a Presbyterian church in Napa Valley and uh-oh, I have just been called to a morning route meeting before we get on the road.

Moral of the story: I am alive and well and will try to update, communicate, and reflect more once I get back to what a friend calls "civilian" life.

Delilah's Theory & the Cookies Curse

When you are biking cross country, every day seems to be a challenge. And according to a friend on the trip, Delilah, it is almost as if we are secret agents battling against all kinds of currents in attempt to make it cross country. Some are more obvious -- like the huge hills and headwinds. But others, like the cookies curse, are much more subtle. When I was completing my third set of double centuries in Arizona, the weather and terrain were both gorgeous. Really we had nothing to complain about but we all were slightly sick. It was not until mile 75 on the second day when a group of us, all feeling the same way, finally figured out that gobbling down at least ten cookies at each rest spot was the real challenge of the day. Since what hungry cyclist can resist the goodness of mint kiddo's in replace for their 200th PB&J? Luckily, we no longer have so many cookies and I have succumb to supplement my now forced sandwich with a carrot or two.

Despite these obstacles, my trip has less than two weeks left. And with my legs which someone called tree trunks earlier today and a lot of excitement for San Fransisco, I think I can bike the loneliest highway in Nevada, complete a few last centuries, and make it to the Pacific Ocean!

Some long overdue pictures

Starting out at the Atlantic Ocean.
















Flea market in North Florida.












North Florida which seemed to last forever.








Finally leaving North Florida on a ferry!









An abandonned McDonald's sign on the Gulf Coast. (The building had been washed out to sea.)














Swamp land in Louisiana.










Lunch. We just get so hungry...










Southern Louisiana -- train track and farms were a famaliar sight.








Entering Texas we were still excited for our long visit, but those smiles faded as the ten long and hot days passed.






Swamp land in Texas? Apparently it is not all desert.








I didn't notice these feedlots with thousands of cattle until I heard someone else complaining about the stench. So as everyone else sprinted by, I stopped to take some pictures. Thanks Iowa!

We were trying to jump in this photo. Needless to say, we failed miserably.













Read the sign. We were not enchanted.

















A much needed break in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico.







Another scenic spot in NM but with a small hint of civilization.






Starving as usual, we had just eaten our daily lunch of PB&J plus anything else we could scrounge for, a friend and I stopped at the side of the road where an Argentinian man was grilling chicken to the beat of 1960s music.

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

Today marks the half-way distance of the trip. So, as I face the daunting hills and deserts of the West, I want to take some time to reflect on some of the places I have been.


Marianna, FL - A very generous and very Southern Baptist church took us in for the night. It was a shorter day, so not only did they provide dinner and breakfast the next day but they went out and got lunch when we arrived earlier than expected. Here was our first affordable housing presentation which was received with such enthusiasm from various members of the congregation who joined us for the evening meal. By this point in the ride, my group and I concluded that the deep South had an extreme abundance of three things: churches, dollar stores, and dead armadillos. Later in my ride, this rule of thumb has yet to let me down.


Mobile, AL - We arrived here after our first century ride. Excited from the day's accomplishments, a group of us had our first night on the town -- which ended up being surprising calm and early considering our exhausting and waking up the next morning at 6:45 (which is actually "sleeping in" compared to 4:00). But while out, I was able to meet a few people who promised that Mobile, to my great surprise, was indeed the home of Mardi Gras parties and still holds a popular and family-friendly event every year. Not a bad city considering this and the beach is beautiful and the fish restaurants are abundant, cheap, and (at least the one I tried) very good.

New Orleans, LA - This is still my favorite city in the world. And yes, I have been walking around the streets of NYC, Budapest and Rome telling whoever happened to be with me how X-city is great, but I will always like New Orleans better.


Natchitoches, LA - As the first British settlement in Louisiana, this city has a pretty rich history. Candy shops, local bookstores, restaurants, and gift shops located downtown overlook a lazy river and small park in the center of town.


Carthage, TX - Our first night in the great state of Texas, we were taken in by an '06 bike and build alumna's parents. They opened up their house for us to sleep all over and allowed us a taste of Texas food and hospitality. While there are many parallels between Texas and the South, this state is undeniably a separate entity. The tourist slogan is "a country of its own" which is no exaggeration from reality. Another slogan: "drive friendly -- the Texas way" has also proven to be true. As a cyclist, cars tend to zip by usually too close for comfort on both back roads and major highways, but cars (and A LOT of trucks) here have instead slowed down and granted us some wiggle room on the roads.


East Duke, OK - We took a break from the enormity of Texas and headed North to the border of Oklahoma for an evening. Oklahoma ... where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain ... did not let me down as it truly was everything that I imagined it to be. In this one town where I stopped to take pictures of the main street (right by the railroad tracks, of course), a local man stopped with me to tell me a short story about his town. Founded in the very beginning of the twentieth century, East Duke and West Duke had a continuous battle which had been sparked over the government granted the railroad company free land which it sold cheaply to the residence of East Duke. Enraged West Duke retaliated by occasionally burning buildings in their counter town which escalated into a thirty year conflict between the two. Finally, they came to a peace and together buried a hatchet in a time capsule under a main intersection. The true resolution, however, came when the main road in East Duke was paved in the late 1940's while West Duke was left with dirt roads and eventually perished to a sheetrock factory and a few abandoned foundations.


Memphis, TX - Everything was closed on Saturday afternoon when we got in. Their is a town square with all the main stores with a court house in the middle; this set up is becoming a familiar sight. But the emptiness of a weekend when in Charlotte or Grinnell people would be hustling about was almost eerie. A friend who went out last night also informed me that it is a dry county. And the library, to my dismay, is closed on Sundays AND Wednesdays. But the people are beyond nice. First Methodist treated us to a potluck dinner and a soon to come brunch. And the man I asked for directions to the post office offered to mail my letters for me since he was already heading that way.

Disclaimer: This list is very incomplete as I am running out of computer time but I hope to fill more in later.

Lose your house ... lose your teeth

My group and I just finished up our time in the Gulf Coast. Our final days were spent building, rather than our usual biking, with one day in each Mobile, AL and Biloxi, MS plus four more in New Orleans, LA. The region is estimated to not fully come back for 10-15 more years. And although things are looking better in NOLA and almost back to normal by the coast, there are still some obvious repairs waiting to be made and most definitely a long road ahead.

One elderly man in New Orleans stopped to talk to a group and I while we were gutting his neighbor's house. True to the nature of most people in the city, he was quite friendly to us strangers and even more glad to hear that we were volunteers from around the country. He quickly launched into his story, since like many others, he is eager to share the pain and trouble which he and many others have silently been enduring since hurricane Katrina.

He didn't evacuate. He didn't explain why and many people stayed for different reasons. Some, no many, literally could not afford it. It was the end of the month, so the last pay check was long ago and money for the necessary gas and food to get out of the city was low or not there. Others didn't have the transportation necessary. Pre-Katrina New Orleans had a pretty good public transportation for a city of its size, and so many people didn't have cars or ways out of the city. (Both the population and the bus lines have dramatically decreased after the storm.) It was too late, Mayor Ray Nagin hesitated to call a mandatory evacuation supposedly due to fear of economic backlash or possibly even disbelief in the weather predictions. Many residents, like their mayor, didn't think that Katrina could be that bad. The older ones had survived Betsy in '56 which only caused minor wind damage and a little flooding in the ninth ward. (Of course, Betsy was not termed minor at the time, but in comparison to Katrina, now most except it as such.) And finally, some just didn't want to leave something they loved behind. I am guessing that the old man I talked to was in the latter two camps. He didn't say.

The storm was fine. The sun was out. They made it! Right? Oh, I wish. He lives near the ninth ward where instead of trickling flood waters, he got a gush which allowed him just enough time to run to the highest story of his house and watch as his neighborhood was covered with more and more water. He wisely had loaded up this top room with water, food, and other supplies so that he was able to survive alone for days. A boat finally came to get him -- a family which was also stranded it in this newly-formed vast ocean, covering their streets, schools and almost all other signs of the pre-existing city. He took about five minutes to go over all the animals that he saw -- lots of snakes and basically everything else.

He joined this family and shared his hoard of stuff. Providing protection for each other at night in a two-story apartment complex they had found (as in were borrowing to put it nicely), they used their boat (also borrowed) to rescue other victims during the day. The old man estimated that they took about 200 people from roof tops and second stories to what he called "the ferry land" with boats shuttling people to safe ground.

All the while, he is talking about losing his dentures. He took them out one night to wash them after four days of not due to lack of clean water. When he did rinse them, it was with soda and set them down. In the middle of the night, someone came with word of the last ferry leaving. He rushed out fearful of the mayhem which might occur when they send in the military and increased disillusionment of the remaining survivors. He left his teeth and when he was allowed back in to look for them weeks later, the apartment complex could not be found. Of course, he only had a general idea where it was since all the street signs were covered. But he tried. And finally asked a random waitress who mentioned that the place had burned to the ground sometime after the storm. They were gone. Eighteen months later he is telling me his story and he still had no teeth. He lives in a trailer outside his house -- probably waiting for road home money to rebuild his house and certainly hoping his street and the city will recover.

We must have been talking for almost an hour. He never really went into much detail about his life since returning to the city. But it is hard to ask some one who has no teeth and 1/10 the neighbors they had 2 years ago how they are doing when the answer is too clear.

Milton, FL to Mobile, AL - 108 Miles

I really could not have asked for a better first century. Energized from a morning group huddle singing Lean on Me, the prospect of going mostly downhill (although not true), a donated HUGE Olive Garden pasta dinner the night before, finally leaving Florida after more than one week, crossing our first state line into Alabama, biking alongside the seashore for about half the ride, swimming at lunch in the Gulf, and a whole lot of adrenaline, it was (to my surprise) a great ride! I actually averaged higher in speed and cadence than any of the previous days on my trip. After 6 1/2 hours on my bike and 10 hours on the road (I take a lot of breaks), I finally made it! Maybe I can be a competent cyclist after all!?!

A More Typical Day on the Road

5 am - Wake up in order to beat the heat (On long days we push this time to 4 and on build days we "sleep in" until 6)
5:15 am - Realize that I am the last in bed and proceed with the morning routine: dress, pack up, breakfast, bike check (watch me embrace safety!), stretch, pretend I am not sore from yesterday's ride, angst over the day's ride, etc.
7:30ish am - Group meeting and cheer
7:35ish am - Take off. Will my muscles to move. Scold myself for not training more prior to the trip. Wonder why I thought biking cross country was feasible. Sarcastically thank Sam, the one who suggested this whole adventure, in my head.
10 minutes late (after my muscles have loosened a bit) - Remember that I can do this. And sincerely remember Sam and my supporters for making this summer possible
60-110 miles or ride spiced up with frequent breaks such as:
---Stretch, water, and lunch breaks
---Ferry Rides
---Any possible historical monument
---Flea Market, Dollar Store, Gas Station, etc. "shopping sprees" for random stuff and a lot of food
---Waffle House or other regional and exciting restaurants. Many of us have developed the ability to eat anything on the road despite the physical labor.
---State Signs are always exciting.
---Swimming Holes or Beaches
---Funny Billboards
---Libraries with free computer access
---Cemeteries
---Orchids
---Random, overly-talkative, generally crazy people
---Anything else distracting or exciting
4 pm (or before) - Arrive at school, community center, church, camp, or whatever residence of the evening
4:01 pm - proceed directly to the shower (I tried to do abs everyday after I ride, but that only last about 2 days. Sorry Will Freeman.)
4:20 pm - Pass out from exhaustion. Pass out is really the best word. I am becoming known on my trip for my ability to sleep well anywhere. What a great, marketable skill.
6 pm ish - Wake up. Scrounge for food.
7 pm - Dinner. Eat until I am overly full.
7:45 pm - No matter how much I eat for dinner. I am always still hungry. So I start to eat again. I think I average about 4-5 PB&J per day.
8 pm - Evening routine? I don't really have one. Read, sit around and talk, eat, sometimes go out, occasionally give an affordable housing presentation, watch movies, etc.
10 pm - Go to sleep again

A little girl's dress hanging from the ceiling

I am more than thankful for all our generous hosts -- churches, schools, community centers, camp grounds, etc. All of the places have been great and made me feel right at home right when I step in the door -- except for one. There was a little too much clutter, old lady curtains, ants everywhere; in short, the aura was just off. It felt like the strange setting to a bad horror flick.

A tripmate kept talking about the ghost stories of the area where we were staying which he allegedly would know about since his uncle lives nearby. Being myself, I believe every single word he says and while not very detailed, it still creeps me out a little more about where I am sleeping.

I returned home late one night from a great fish dinner to what I thought would be a room full of sleeping bikers. Instead, I find three of my room mates panicking over an old bright pink and flowerly little girl's dressing hanging from the ceiling fan. Naturally, I join in the chaos, tell everyone else I see when I go to brush my teeth, and semi-convince myself that this is all related to those ghost stories.

Still freaking out by bed time, I sleep smack against the wall and seriously consider crawling into someone else's bed for the night or sleeping in the support van outside. Luckily, I was dead asleep (as usual) before I could act on any of these genius protection plans.

I find out the next day, after wrongly blaming an innocent trip mate, that it was indeed my three room mates who placed the dress there.

Morals of the story: (1) I am so gullible and (2) life on the road is exciting.

Snakes and Gators and Road Kill ... Oh My!

3 snakes, 2 Gators, and SO MUCH road kill later, I am on my 7th day of biking. (Oh, and there was one anger, barking dog which chased me half a mile down the road one of those days.) But luckily, I am still alive and mostly functional. My quads and hams are not to eager for the 100 mile day tomorrow. But then we get the day off! I mean we get a build day which is almost relaxing in comparison with the 50-60 mile days I have been pedalling on the road.

The days switch between constant monotony and excitement depending on our location. My favorite lunch break was on the Saturday before Father's day when we stumbled on a celebration in Lake City with live animals and live music plus a couple of kiddie rides on the side. Sometimes we stop for breaks at parks or historical sites. Battle fields are a personal favorite of mine. Other times we meet people along the road like the homeless man, also biking cross country, who told a long story about his biking being stolen and a crack addict giving him a new one or the lady at the orchid who gave us a sermon right then and there.

About the basics: We stay in churches, schools, community centers, or where ever else people will take us in. (One trip, although not mine, even resided in a funeral home.) If we can not find anyone, we camp which is nice in its own right. Last night was our first camping night and the "resort" had a pool which a few of us jumped in which our jerseys, spandex, and socks still on at the end of the day. As for the roads, we have been mostly on Highway 90 which is an old, more local interstate (perhaps better put as the road less travelled by). It switches between constant trucks, traffic, etc and nowhereness where you don't see a sign, driveway, or ANYTHING for miles. And we eat lots of PB&J, donated pizza, and home cooked meals. One of the greatest things about biking all day is eating all night.

And on the note, I am off to bike home from the library, shower, and of course, begin my nightly feast.

Building like the Egyptians

The tables turned today. I was expected to put things together carefully and precisely as opposed to take them down. I was completely clueless about most aspects of today's work and need constant direction. And even when I insisted that we use the sledge for various tasks, I was shunned as crazy -- "no, that would break it." I briefly thought about arguing until I realized that the point is to make, not break. So, sorry Katie, the "when all else fails, use a sledge" rule must not be true in all places.

I spent the entire day on the roof or a ladder. Almost falling off only once -- which was completely my fault. The "sure, it will be fine to defy gravity for a moment and lean backwards on the already shaky ladder" logic is apparently slightly dangerous. But no worries Mom and Dad, a friend was there to grab my hand and pull the rest of my body onto the roof as someone ran to secure the ladder below me.

Today's entry name is attributed to a the man who taught me how to hammer really well (I promise, I already knew how to hammer) by making everything into a metaphor about pole vaulting, once a vaulter himself. His enthusiasm, knowledge and dedication was inspirational. And he taught my pod of three bikers who followed him around how to roof just like the Egyptians did.

Today we built; tomorrow we ride. Life is simple, and I love it.

Some final thoughts before I go

I am almost finished packing and getting ready to take off for two days of relaxation at the beach, then 66 days of BIKE AND BUILD.

Things I am excited about:
(1) meeting 29 other young adults passionate about affordable housing & the Gulf Coast region and crazy enough to bike cross country in the name of this cause
(2) becoming an expert on affordable housing both through our rider curriculum and hands on/real life lessons
(3) working with local, national and global non-profits like Habitat for Humanity, EDOLA-ODR, and Rebuilding Together
(4) seeing so much of my country so closely (of the 10 states and 55 destinations, the Grand Canyon and Napa Valley are definitely my two favorite destinations)
(5) giving presentations to the communities where we stay, meeting the locals, and (hopefully) passing on my excitement for affordable housing in America
(6) perfecting some sweet shorts, glove, tee-shirt, sock, etc. tan lines
(7) writing lots of letters and postcards (if i get time, I really like snail mail)
(8) biking (since this is what i am doing the majority of the time anyway) hopefully, i won't die and my skills and endurance will sky rocket.
(9) eating A LOT (i.e. becoming more of a pig than I already am) since working out all day gives me a great excuse to inhale food all night long.
(10) meeting the people -- current or future home owners -- whom my team and I serve. Through all the community work I have done, I still believe that I learn and gain more as a volunteer then the work I attempt to give despite generally self-less intentions. My most recent (and favorite) homeowner in New Orleans schooled me (and a group of Dallas executives) on financial management and the power of women. This lady's strength and knowledge was absolutely incredible.

My computer access will probably be sketchy, at best, since there will be 30 riders fighting over 1 or 2 computers. I hope to update about once a week. But this is a trip journal which will be updated daily by different riders; it can be found at http://www.bikeandbuild.org/cms/component/option,com_wrapper/Itemid,67/

Also, a few other riders are keeping personal blogs which should also be interesting and will probably cover things that I forget to mention. These can be found at http://www.bikeandbuild.org/cms/component/option,com_wrapper/Itemid,213/

San Fran or bust, baby. I'm ready!

The best post-ride snack EVER

I needed to buy bananas after one of my rides when I noticed that there are so many free samples in the super market. So, decked out in spandex, dripping in sweat, and wearing bright pink flip-flops, I wander through the produce section trying each and everyone of them. In case I don't feel sketchy enough, I notice that not one, BUT TWO, rather chubby, old men are following my footsteps doing THE EXACT SAME THING. (They, fortunately, were wearing something besides spandex.) As I got hung up at the ham station (I definitely had more than my allotted one sample), I look back and just start cracking up at one of the old men. who kindly waved his hands and told me that no one else was watching.

Mail Drops

In the case that any of you wish to send me letters and/or packages, I will have nine addresses as I travel cross country. They are the following:

Jun 21^st Milton FL

General Delivery

C/O Bike and Build- Anna Gilbert

5111 Dogwood DR

Milton, FL 32570-9998

Jun 28^th New Orleans LA

General Delivery

C/O Bike and Build- Anna Gilbert

610 S Maestri PL

New Orleans, LA 70130-3429

Jul 5^th Natchitoches LA

General Delivery

C/O Bike and Build- Anna Gilbert

240 Saint Denis ST

Natchitoches, LA 71457-9998

Jul 12^th Wichita Falls Tx

General Delivery

C/O Bike and Build- Anna Gilbert

1000 Lamar ST

Wichita Falls, TX 76301-9995

Jul 19^th Las Vegas NM

General Delivery

C/O Bike and Build- Anna Gilbert

1900 Hot Springs Blvd

Las Vegas, NM 87701-9997

Jul 26^th Ship Rock NM

General Delivery

C/O Bike and Build- Anna Gilbert

91 Highway 491 S

Shiprock, NM 87420-9998

Aug 2^nd Orderville, UT

General Delivery

C/O Bike and Build- Anna Gilbert

Orderville, UT 84758

Aug 9^th Lake Tahoe CA

General Delivery

C/O Bike and Build- Anna Gilbert

7005 N Lake Blvd

Tahoe Vista, CA 96148-9800

Aug 16^th San Francisco CA

General Delivery

C/O Bike and Build- Anna Gilbert

450 Golden Gate AVE

San Francisco, CA 94102-366

Make sure "Please hold for pick up on DATE" is marked on the letter or package. Thanks!

The First Falls

After accidentally steering into the drain basin and turning back onto the road too sharply, the two inch rim in between halted my bike but unfortunately not my body. I squeezed my eyes shut (as I usually do during intense athletic competition -- my coaches hate this), flew over my handlebars, and slid across the traffic lane. (Thankfully, no cars were near.) My eyes burst open; I grabbed my bike and literally crawled off the road to mend my wounds and calm myself down. Funny that same day, my orthopedic had told me at least five times that pole vaulting is the most dangerous sport ever but did not mention anything about the risks of biking … so, it must be very safe, right? I was fine for about another mile until I discovered a flat tire and had to walk the remaining two miles home. When I finally got home, my fearful parents were waiting on the front steps.

Since I am already struggling with the standard biking, I got clip-less petals today. It took me about an hour in a deserted church parking lot to learn to use them. I only fell twice! (Hooray!?!) Both came when I was trying to snap my shoes in and momentarily forgot about the existence of gravity. (I think this summer is going to be an unofficial lesson in basic physics principles/common sense -- you know, like momentum and gravity.) When I returned home with another bloody wound, my father kindly offered to buy me knee and elbow pads for my future rides.

Why I love New Orleans

My internal list seems to get longer and longer on each visit. Despite New Orleans' tragic current situation, the great culture still remains strong.

Reason why I love New Orleans #329: For a city of its size, New Orleans maintains the friendly, open atmosphere I have found to be rare in large cities and abundant only in small towns. The million or so people are split into about forty neighborhoods – the beautiful and historic Garden District, the hard-working middle class division called Gentilly, the University district, the Upper and Lower Ninth Wards, to list a few. And each of these are subdivided into smaller areas around major cross streets. Within these distinct neighborhoods are their own hardware store, shoe shops, and restaurants, plus the absolutely necessary po-boy and snoball stands – two types of classic New Orleanian food which I insist is only good in the city limits. (A Po-Boy in Iowa which I have unfortunately tried is definitely not up to par.) The strength of these small (often family-owned) businesses has made New Orleans one of the last cities to fend off corporate chains and big box stores.

Beyond the businesses, the atmosphere of these neighborhoods are very friendly, and some even have their own distinct accents. Basically, New Orleans maintains a small town feel while still offering the perks found in a large city – pro-league (and successful!) sports teams, business opportunities, public transit (including trolleys), the French Quarter, universities, food and shopping options, and so much more.

NOLA Trip Number Four

I scribbled this out on the kindly provided airport vomit bags (I lacked paper). It is mostly reflections about the changes and similarities which I noticed in my work and the city.

The airports are always the same. My organization (EDOLA-ODR*) is getting larger, stronger, and better organized. Every time I go back, things are just a little more impressive and they have helped another hoard of people and yet are continuing to stress about how to perfect the next stage. Rebuilt houses and well-kept lawns are no longer an abnormality. Some entire neighborhoods are coming back, and many more are trying to follow their footsteps.

Of course, you can not ignore the increasing number of empty lots which once held a home. Or the boarded up houses, abundances of for sale signs, lack of governmental involvement or citywide long-term planning, occasional entirely abandoned neighborhoods, and empty houses on every block.

The homeowner’s stories are getting sadder. The once uncomfortable FEMA trailers (meant for 2 people for 1 month) are becoming more torturous for the countless families of 4+ stuck there for the last 18+ months with no other choice. Battles with insurance companies for unaccounted for flood and homeowner’s payments have been replaces by struggles with the government’s promised Road Home money run by an impersonal computer system and uninformed telemarketers.

One of the most dramatic shifts has been from gutting to rebuilding. Gutting gave homeowners emotional closure to their pre-Katrina lives, sometimes more insurance money, easier resale process, and most importantly for many the first step of rebuilding. Last summer and the subsequent breaks, we emptied the flooded homes of the water and mold damaged belongings, tore apart the insides, and cleaned it down to the wooden support studs. Rebuilding is very different and undeniably more positive. But of the 850 homeowners whose houses my program has gutted – our program can only do about 4/month (48/year) which is very fast for construction but very slow considering the great number of people in need. On the brighter side, rebuilding helps a small bunch piece back together their homes and families along with a new life.

*Episcopal Diocese of Louisiana – Office of Disaster Response. Random, right? The program head is an Grinnell Alumna.

Now, that summer is finally here...

My schedule is as follows:
May 18-19: Charlotte - literally enough time to do laundry, see some old friends, and repack
May 20-30: New Orleans - gutting and rebuilding houses with Katie Mears '03 and the Episcopal Diocese Office of Disaster Relief
May 31-June 9: Charlotte - to actual train for my summer ride
June 10-11: beaches in South Carolina and Georgia with my mother
June 12-August 16: Bike and Build (exact itinerary below)
August 17-18: San Fransisco
August 19-28: Charlotte (possible trip down to NOLA again?)
August 29: Two year mark of Hurricane Katrina and the flood
August 30: My 20th birthday! And the first day of classes! (What else could I wish for?)

Bike and Build trip plan: (There are a few slight changes from the original itinerary)

Day	Date	Destination/Location	Mileage
Tue	12-June	Jacksonville	-
Wed	13-June	Jacksonville	-
Thu	14-June	BUILD DAY	-
Fri	15-June	Glen St. Mary, Fl	60
Sat	16-June	Live Oak, FL	54
Sun	17-June	Monticello, FL	65
Mon	18-June	Qunicy, FL	55
Tue	19-June	Marianna, FL	48
Wed	20-June	De Funiak Springs, Fl	60
Thu	21-June	Milton, FL	65
Fri	22-June	Mobile, AL	70
Sat	23-June	BUILD DAY	-
Sun	24-June	Biloxi, MS	80
Mon	25-June	BUILD DAY	-
Tue	26-June	New Orleans, LA	85
Wed	27-June	BUILD DAY	-
Thu	28-June	BUILD DAY	-
Fri	29-June	BUILD DAY	-
Sat	30-June	BUILD DAY	-
Sun	1-July	DAY OFF	-
Mon	2-July	Baton Rouge, LA	77
Tue	3-July	Opelousas, LA	61
Wed	4-July	Alexandria, LA	68
Thu	5-July	Natchitoches, LA	60
Fri	6-July	Mansfield, LA	50
Sat	7-July	Carthage, TX	55
Sun	8-July	Athens, TX	94
Mon	9-July	Dallas, TX	75
Tue	10-July	BUILD DAY	-
Wed	11-July	Decatur, TX	69
Thu	12-July	Wichita Falls, TX	75
Fri	13-July	Altus, OK	88
Sat	14-July	Memphis, TX	72
Sun	15-July	Amarillo, TX	86
Mon	16-July	BUILD DAY
Tue	17-July	Dalhart, TX	90
Wed	18-July	Mosquero, NM	104
Thu	19-July	Las Vegas, NM	100
Fri	20-July	Santa Fe, NM	70
Sat	21-July	DAY OFF	-
Sun	22-July	San Ysidro, NM	70
Mon	23-July	Cuba, NM	40
Tue	24-July	Farmington, NM	106
Wed	25-July	BUILD DAY	-
Thu	26-July	Ship Rock, NM	35
Fri	27-July	Kayenta, AZ	114
Sat	28-July	Kaibito, AZ	67
Sun	29-July	Marble Canyon, AZ	75
Mon	30-July	North Rim, AZ (Grand Canyon)	85
Tue	31-July	DAY OFF	-
Wed	1-August	Kanab, UT	80
Thu	2-August	Long Valley Junction, UT	44
Fri	3-August	Cedar City, UT	44
Sat	4-August	Pioche, NV	95
Sun	5-August	Ely, NV	109
Mon	6-August	Eureka , NV	80
Tue	7-August	Austin, NV	70
Wed	8-August	Fallon, NV	118
Thu	9-August	Tahoe Vista, CA (Lake Tahoe)	97
Fri	10-August	DAY OFF	-
Sat	11-August	Downieville, CA	82
Sun	12-August	Yuba City, CA	77
Mon	13-August	BUILD DAY	-
Tue	14-August	Napa, CA (Napa Valley)	100
Wed	15-August	Point Reyes, CA	63
Thu	16-August	San Francisco, CA	36

Thank you all for your support!

I have recently exceeded the $4,000 goal in my fundraising efforts. I am deeply grateful that I am surrounded by such helpful and encouraging family members, friends, educators, and coaches. One of my favorite parts of this process has been getting in touch with all of you. And I hope to uphold these connections throughout the summer and afterwards. I hope that this blog helps, and I very much enjoy the old fashion process of letter writing.

In addition, we can not overlook the fact that the money is going for a really good cause. I am proud to be riding in support of Habitat for Humanity, the revival of the Gulf Coast region, as well as affordable housing in general.

Having spent three of my last four breaks gutting houses in New Orleans, I have developed a deep love for the city and surrounding region. Tearing apart houses has taught me a thing or two about the way in which houses are constructed. While I do not claim to be an qualified builder, I can thoroughly explain the layers holding up a house. However, beyond the physical structure, what makes a house a home is its inhabitants and their memories. The teary-eyed homeowners I have served tell heart-wrenching stories about the memories they attach to the belongings that volunteers are removing from what was once their home and placing in a debris pile in their street. These encounters enlightened me about the great value in which a house and more importantly, a home can have in someone’s life.

Summer is almost here!!!

Today, I broke the $3000 mark! With only $1000 left to raise, my summer biking trip from Jacksonville, FL to San Francisco, CA is becoming more and more of a reality. Track season is over and my sprained ankles are (almost) healed, so my bike training is now in full swing. Some money is still trickling in, and I am making plans for some last minute fundraising events – talking to local stores and churches and perhaps getting an article or two in the Charlotte paper. And school is almost over! In academia’s place, Bike and Build staff have assigned me research projects about affordable housing in America and the towns we will visit. Plus, I am looking forward to a ten-day stint in New Orleans after a long weekend in Charlotte and before my bike trip begins. I will be gutting and building houses with my favorite Grinnell Alumna Katie Mears ’03 and the Episcopal Diocese Office of Disaster Relief whose program I have come to know and love. I often wondered last summer in New Orleans if I could ever top or even match my experiences, and I believe the Bike and Build program has great potential to do just that and beyond.

A Habitat Success Story from the Perspective of a Refugee

Both in Charlotte and in college, I tutored refugees fleeing homelands in Africa and the South Pacific. Among the many interesting perspectives these people aspired, one lady stands out in particular. She came only once since she had “graduated” from the typical emergency English-as-a-Second Language classes my program offered only recently arrived refugees, and I admittedly do not remember her name. Similar to the newly entering refugees, she told heart-wrenching of the past, but unlike the others, she also explained the great changes in her new life in America.

Soldiers were deployed by her own government because of lingering anger about her tribe’s unpopular support in a war more than thirty years ago. They raided her secluded, rural village and shot at her and her then-infant son. Climbing a tree to escape the fire; she was eventually able to come to America where she dramatically improved life for herself and her son. Not only was she able to flee such unjust persecution, but she cheerfully talked about the opportunities in America such as the public school her son attended and even more happily, she described the new house built with Habitat for Humanity. This allowed her to resign from one of her jobs. (Previously, she worked in a fast food restaurant during the day and as a custodian at night.) She could also spend more time with her son and taking care her lifelong injury from the government’s attack – a bullet lodged in her skull which often gave her throbbing headaches. Up to this point in my life, I had done minimal work with affordable housing organizations but her story allowed me a glimpse of the enormous impact Habitat for Humanity could have in someone’s life.