on the road in america, part 1

cars + biscuits + sweet sweet tea

Leaving Charlotte, driving west, we stopped to eat at Bojangle’s. Outside of Price’s Chicken Coop in Charlotte – which is quite simply the greatest fried chicken in the world (if you have doubts, ask the writers of Gourmet and Bon Appetit, who’ve heaped praise on the place) – Bojangle’s is your best bet for fast, delicious chicken in North Carolina. And their biscuits are unbeatable. We hit the tail end of the Sunday after-church lunch rush, which is a great time to visit because everyone just looks so happy and fulfilled on a spiritual as well as a gastronomical level.

Fast food places usually make me feel a little depressed and soul-less, but somehow Bojangle’s is different and special. I don’t know if it’s because the place is a little more localized and less corporate than national chains, or because its association with my adolescence gives it a kitschy, ironic appeal (it was a oft-resorted-to antidote to the angst and furor of being a teenager, which we typically celebrated by gleefully pronouncing the name of the establishment as though it were written in Spanish), but scenes like the one above – which might ordinarily make me feel guiltily implicated in a tangled American web of SUVs, text-messaging, Waffle House, fried foods, parking lots and the kind of disconnect that leads us to do things like leave cups of super-sweet tea on our car roofs – somehow leave me basking in a warm, appreciative, America-loving glow when they happen to occur near Bojangles’ Famous Chicken ‘n Biscuits.

botanical gardens

add this to your list of Things To Do In Charlotte: a visit to the Daniel Stowe Botanical Gardens. They are gorgeous, even in winter, thanks to a meticulously landscaped indoor Orchid House…but I’ll let the photos speak for themselves:

around town in myPod

zoom zoom

One of my greatest challenges in Morocco was transportation. My village wasn’t actually served by any licensed, official, reliable form of public transport – just a couple of guys with old station wagons who made a few runs into town each day. When I did manage to catch a ride with a labziwi, as the locals called our “taxis,” this often meant sharing a ride with up to 14 other individuals, or, say, 12 people and a large ram, or (my personal favorite) 10 people and two large rams. At some point, the powerlessness and lack of control I experienced waiting, hoping, praying for a taxi to show up as I shivered outside my house in the pre-dawn dark became too much. Something snapped and I swore off taxis, instead opting to propel myself by bicycle over the 10+ miles of hilly, bumpy, rocky road any time I had to go into town (“town” was not an especially fun or glamorous place to visit, by the way, but it did beckon me at least once a week with allurements like mail, vegetables, diet soda and cheese).

Remarkably, my stubborn streak lasted almost six months, throughout the hottest months of the year and Ramadan as well. And I have to say, whether it was taking charge of my own movements at the most basic level, or the fresh air and scenery, or just the endorphins, I really think it made me happier.

not so bad to look at every day

charlotte at night: poem in words and images

moody sunset skies

bright blank lights stare at the moon

light bulbs hum, moon beams

from here to there

When I left the US to join the Peace Corps, George W. Bush was our president, Michael Jackson was still alive and there was definitely no such thing as “light rail” in Charlotte, NC…

From abroad I celebrated Obama’s victory and mourned Michael’s death (Moroccans are very keen on both, by the way), and now I happily traipse uptown and back on the QC’s fancy new light rail.