18-VIII-2000.
My machine back home got hosed up, so it ended in Avai. Peja fixed it and kept it under test for 48 hours, said „if it budges again, I go be a programmer“. For who knows which reason my messages for the time are not in the archive, and dad couldn't get the grips with what he had now. He previously had proper latin keyboard layout with all the characters, and a Netscape (aka nescafe) for mail, and now all of a sudden he's got haircut latin and Outlook express, the horrors. And of course, my messages don't get quoted, that default is off at m$. So there's no trace of what I wrote.
So we decided that I should take a little vacation, a weekend plus two days, and go seaside. It isn't so far, about 250 miles, which is below 400km, less than to Zagreb. Looking at what Gugao says today, turns out that one could get from A-burg to Nags Head in four hours, which is ridiculous, it would mean driving the highway speed limit all the way (that's so in Virginia, later I'd see in other states that it can be 60, 70, even 75). Which is, of course, impossible - you start with the crowded lanes when leaving town, then more crowd around Richmond, and then theres the slow underwater ride.
The neighbor across the street's end (literally, we're the last in our segment of the street, then there's some 20m of forest, and the street begins again from her yard) pointed us to the Tanglewood inn. The driving was interesting - the Corolla went well, the highway wasn't congested, fair weather, AC worked, new polarizing sunglasses made for interesting effects, all cool.
Around Richmond it was, of course, congested. They always dig something around there, add the new exits to the beltway, or more lanes to some parts of it, and that clogs it up, of course. But we passed that somehow and reached the river (James and Elisabeth, together). When we got there, the bridge went underwater. Alriiiight... if Amers drive that way, so can I. Tunnel like any tunnel. It's a bit weird, knowing that behind its walls there is no stone but water, but nothing to it, you stay in fifth and keep up the speed of those around you. And you get out.
It was a bit confusing through Virginia Beach, I lost my bearings for a bit, but soon spotted a sign for exit to 168 south (that is the south leg of virginian state road number 168, which has no north leg there, as it'd get into the river in five minutes), and in half an hour we were already in North Carolina. There the highway turned into a two-way regional road, speed limit 50 (just like our 80), with just about enough roadsigns to get to the bridge to the Outer Banks (weird banking system they have). There the road got weird, a five-laner. Two there, two back and the middle one to wait for left turns on.
And we got to that Nags Head, and found that entangled forest, which did look nice and was chock full, no rooms. Drove slowly down the street and spotted a hotel which we just about liked, its parking mostly vacant, so decided to give it a try. A four bed room was about 70$ per night, with some kind of discount we got for something, probably for staying beyond the weekend.
There was no fifth bed, the promised cot never materialized. I realized that sleeping on the floor isn't that bad at all, and the wind blowing through the inch high crack under the door wasn't bad either, at least didn't get too hot.
The hotel was literally the draft hotel [a derogatory expression at home, denoting a building in bad repair], it was made the simplest way - concrete pillars with concrete floorboards, everything else is drywall, slats, plastic, nails. We were on third floor, the walls to the neighbors of simple plank, painted who knows when. But okay, we didn't come here for the luxury, but for the sun. We ate in the room whatever we'd buy in the nearby grocery - there were several on the main street, two blocks away - mostly Maruchan instant soups and canned meals. Don't know if we had mirko in the room, many details of these four days are lost because of... see above.
The room wasn't facing the shore, but rather south, to the hotel's yard and swimming pool. All the way to the right, along the façade, I could see in a distance the monument to the Wright brothers. We meant to visit it, seeing how close it was, but left it for some other time. The staircase provided view of the neighborhood. This is a resort village, but it seems to have ample space left, it's not crowded at all, the parking lot is mostly vacant and these sheds have huge lots. And they were left so black, we called them immediately Alan Ford hotels. We noticed that all private houses are on stilts, there's no ground floor, the lowest floor is about meter and a quarter above ground. The explanation we got was that a better hurricane can push a lot of water over the dunes and flood all this. Drains away in a day, but one needs to be ready for that day.
We visited the pool at times, but the beach was actually quite near, we were a block away from the sand, and from there we'd cross about a hundred meters over the duna and down to the water. I didn't expect a sand beach to have such a slope, it seemed close to twentysome degrees. The surf was strong, would supply good massage when it slams over your back and hips, or rock you nicely if you dive.
The second day we drove around, almost to the Hatteras island (same surname as Verne's captain, the one who locked himself in the polar tropical paradise, was it the north one?), but we didn't feel like crossing there. We visited also some sand park or whatever it was, climbed them dunes, kept looking over our shoulders whether we'll have to walk back or could we hitch a ride on a worm. Checked the west bank too, and it was completely different. No surf, water placid, greenery everywhere, sand covered invisible, the coastline zigzagging, a different universe. And no hotels, it's all someone's little houses. Leaving [what] there, when I was about to cross the five laner thingy, there comes from south side, our right side, some chick in a tank, ie. a pickup truck of at least four tons and at least three liter engine or better, signals no turn but slows down into the middle lane, drives with her right hand, sits high, her ass must have been above Corolla's roof, who knows whether she's noticing us at all, keeps her mobile on her ear with her left, talks, keeps crying and makes a left turn, coming our way. Oh fuck I almost shat myself, if she veers a bit with the foot heavily on the pedal, and seeing how she's more somewhere out there than actually here... but okay, if it was close there was no contact. She came to pass by.
The wind on the beach never stopped, just varied in strength, always blew from the sea. The constant flow of air cooled us off so we didn't even notice how much is the sunshine frying. Go was all pink on the second day, and Nina was so fried she was all swollen. In the evening we went for a walk around town, walked through a minigolf course to see all the amenities they put up - a waterfall, a creek, a garden, a lawn, castle walls and even some sand (grass, water and send were not fake), and she's obviously not looking her best on the shots I made.
On day three we didn't even go to the beach, not all of us and not all day. Lena made her company at the hotel pool.
Mentions: Alan Ford, Annenburg (A-burg), Avai, Gorana Sredljević (Go), Gugao, Jelena Sredljević (Lena), Majkrosoft (m$), mirko, Nevena Sredljević (Nina), Vladimir Pejin (Peja), in serbian