Potatoes and traveling

”So…” You say. ”Where the F[insert obscenity] have you been?”-“And where the F[repeat obscenity] is my annual postcard?”

“Well…” I say while moving my right foot vicariously across the asphalt, pushing the gravel on top of it into little piles. “I meant to send you one…but I just never got around to do it. I was too busy.”

-“Im really sorry…” I quickly add.

Im not lying when I say I have been busy. For some reason unknown to yours truly, the summers get shorter and shorter every year. I had so many things I needed to do, - although I cannot for the life of me remember those things at the moment…So you ask “What DID you do?” And I tell you to shut the fuck up (why bother with censorship?) and let me do the talking…or typing…or whatever. I DID work…made some money that I spent on traveling, -which I will get back to later. I moved into a new apartment,-which I guess is the main reason why I haven’t been able to update this mess called a blog. I didn’t have any internet access for quite some time…”But you could have used an internet café or something like that” you interrupt.

This is the part where I slap you with the student newspaper I am holding in my left hand. You look surprised but you let it go.

Yes I could have used a café, but this is where the busy part takes over. When you spend most of your day at work or moving boxes from one side of town to the next, a puter is not the first thing on your mind when you are done….the bed is. Besides…whats the point of updating a blog when nothing new has happened in your life?

“But you could have written another one of those meaningless entries you always write” you say. I just shake my head. You are starting to get on my nerves…

So…back to my summer. The best part of it I spent with my friend Beat (lets just call him Beat to protect his privacy…between you and me; I think he is on the run from the law) and his family. Before I got there however I had a 26h travel from Norway to the US…and on the way I had to explain at least 4 times what a bottle of Aquavit is...(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akvavit). I also had to convince an immigration officer that I was NOT going to Idaho to marry some potato-farmer and that I was in fact going back to Norway after 10 days. “But there’s nothing to see in Idaho! People don’t go to Idaho…they go to California or New York…Chicago even!” I had to bite my tongue and try not to laugh…Laughing at an immigration officer is a sure ticket back to where you came from…

After a delay in Minneapolis I finally got to hug the Beat and his youngest daughter who hugged me despite the fact that I looked like crap (probably smelled like it too). Bless her heart. Summer couldn’t have started better.

I never saw the immigration officer again…but if I had, I would have told him that Idaho has a lot to offer. You can climb sand dunes and burn your feet. You can look for snakes and other creepy stuff in the bushes. You can go to the horse tracks and win money on a horse that no one believes in (Go Bruneau!), you can fly rockets and loose ‘em in a cornfield, you can go to the drive-in and the Flying M (great coffee) and you can go to Hailey and listen to music and eat at diners.-Even party a little. But most of all you can relax and unwind…forget about the stress that is waiting for you at home. If you’re lucky and get to hang out with people like Beat and his family as well, you’ve really hit the jackpot! The sweetest family you can think of has its base in Idaho…the secret is out.

So its safe to say the immigration officer was wrong. I personally think he should be fired. For most foreigners the immigration officer is the first American they speak to upon their arrival…and he or she should be a representative for Americans in general. To have such an ignorant dork behind the Plexiglas is a shame…I should have told him to get out more often…The air must be pretty thick in that glass-booth. Next time I will hand him a bottle of Aquavit and tell him to come see me in Idaho when he gets off work. Who knows…maybe I can marry him and get a green card...Potato-farmer my ass…

I hope you had a wonderful summer as well. And I promise you next year I WILL send you a postcard.