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ODE to Iowa…a few states away

Iowa, iowa, iowaaaaaaa, iowa, iowa. (Chorus sang to Dar Willams, Iowa) (I know this is a few states late, but I heard this song and remembered I still needed to write my ode).

Iowa, previously thought to be the state of corn, of corn, of corn and more corn…is much, much more. Oh, how the hills, the windy hills, the hills which are so windy, we struggle to pedal downhill. I truly thought it would be flat for miles, corn and soy and corn and soy…my, how my expectations and images have been shattered like mirrors.





Our first stop was Dubuque, up in the northeast, where JP’s sister has a new baby, Emma Kate. So small was she, that we played with her older brother, Carson, who was just starting to speak.


Dubuque, Iowa, along the Mississippi River, I got my first massage, my body was in need. 30$ for an hour, checkout massage schools, they might even let you shower.



Then down on towards the Amana colonies, a true historical replica of something that used to be.

Continued on south towards Fairfield; hey John Armstrong!, my college roommate. He lives in Utopia, Utopia Trailer park, by the Golden Dome, the dome where the Maharishi meditate. I got to wear my one nice civilian clothes to his high school American History class, teaching the 9th graders about immigration. That day I spoke, we drew comparisons between the brave souls who crossed the Atlantic and immigrants today. Why did they come? And more importantly, why do they stay?

Rosh Ha’shanah, at Beth Shalom in Fairfield. Beautiful cantor from Israel, or at least she sounds like it; friendly invites for meals and asking exactly how we stay fit.

We head to post-service’s lunch at the house of the sauna; built by hand and fervor, it holds the whole town on Thursdays like sweaty iguanas. Thanks for the pre-thanksgiving meal, it was truly Nirvana!!



Goodbye John, thanks for the free yoga and nice dinner from the parents; we can’t miss the famous sculpture as we head out of town.

Leaving Fairfield, we head further south to Eldon, and up and down towards the west, in safe houses from storms.

Sleeping in thrift stores, under water towers, and our first time under the stalks of the corn; before our last night in Iowa, we almost pass out, but find a Chinese buffet for $7…they must not know how hungry we are.

Iowa, iowa, Iowaaaa, Iowa, iowa.


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