Word: andrews
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Early in the trip Matt and Andrew had taken precautionary measures against the inevitable information overload and started a diary. But it didn’t last. The third time they used it, someone struck their Volvo hard on its side. Suddenly superstitious, they never wrote anything down again. They told me this as we walked toward an outdoor café in New Orleans’ French Quarter, ruled at the time by a bizarre economic love triangle. Tourists shared the space equally with the homeless, drunk, and destitute, who entertained them to get by; meanwhile, dozens of missionaries...
...course, Harvard College is one thing. The United States of America is a much bigger thing. Andrew and Matt had to choose not only where to go, but also how to go, when to go, and how long to stay. To make these choices, they relied on one repeated question—what are we least likely ever to see again?—but also on intuition, culturally ingrained preference, and “Let’s Go.” Sometimes they were limited by what was possible (talking to a small farmer in South Dakota...
...like, St. Louis, and it’ll just be: St. Louis, St. Louis, St. Louis—just soaking it all up,” Matt explained. “But it’s not like that. It’s just normal.” Andrew nodded. “There’s no great epiphany,” he said. “It’s not like there is some moment when you’re like, ‘Aha! Now I understand...
Acknowledging all of this, Matt and Andrew avoided broad conclusions with fierce determination. Instead, they stuck to safer ground: story-telling. Sitting in the French Quarter, they filled...
...memory followed them across the country. “It was so sad,” Andrew said in Nashville, telling the story one more time. “’Cause in some sense she’s kind of right.” Both agreed seeing the reservation was worth it, despite the problems. But they didn’t forget her reaction...