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knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-06-15T12:03:08-04:00

This is it. Our time in the US is up. We have turned the last page of our roadside diaries. At least for now.

In the past three months we have traveled several thousands miles, visited more than twenty states, and met enough people to colonize a small country. Everywhere we went, we were taken in by people willing to share their couches and their stories. An exchange that did not always lead to agreement, but never fell short of understanding. We came as strangers, and parted as friends, no matter our differences. It might sound like a candyfloss romance told by an imbecile trying to please, but it is the truth nonetheless. Mutually rewarding contact between different worlds is very much possible.

We want to extend a heartfelt thank to all of our hosts throughout the US - not only those who opened up their homes to us, but also those who just sat down for a cup of coffee, or gave us directions when we lost our way. Without you, this project status would have been an altogether different and more disheartening story.

We also want to thank all of our readers who have faithfully ticked in by the hundreds every day. A lot of people have sent us private emails and messages, commenting on our writings with suggestions and corrections. Having a participating audience has been a great inspiration to us, and has helped to keep us going on several occasions when we were out of gas or sleep or luck - or even all three.

Last but not least, we are thrilled that Anne-Mette decided to join our project, and bring our literary portraits to painted life on her canvas. Her ingenious brush added many new layers of color to our own black-on-white words, and though we never knew what we were getting, we always knew that we would not want to be without it.

We hope to be able to pick up our roadside diaries and add more pages to them in the not too distant future - whether from the US, the EU, or somewhere else entirely. But for now, we just need to kick back, grab a cold beer, and get the hell out of here before our visas expire at midnight tomorrow.

Keep on moving,

Kristian & Jacob

Back in black

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-06-13T13:12:16-04:00

So, we are back in Atlanta where we started out three months ago. Back then, a hurricane had just blown off the roof of the CNN building, and knocked out windows in most major skyscrapers. Streets were cordoned off all over downtown, and the sound of breaking glass provided an ever-present and slightly disturbing soundtrack. Now, the temperature has climbed some 20º F, the shards have been swept off the streets, and the people are back - in black. The hometown of Martin Luther King is still very much an African-American city, and often we find ourselves in places where we are the only Caucasians around. It is definitely a worthwhile reality check on a journey in which our many hosts have been almost exclusively white.

Today, downtown was teeming with people buying and selling and preaching - and just plain hanging out. We can go people-wathcing in the shopping arcades of Underground Atlanta where guys and girls show off the latest in baggy and slimfit streetwear, we can circle the streets around the courthouse where teenage hoodlums offer crack cocaine to any passer-by without a uniform, or we can kick back on the lawns of Woodruff Park where self-proclaimed preachers read the words of the Lord from leather-bound bibles old and torn. And almost everybody will be as black and American as we are white and foreign. Race has been part of their consciousness from Civil War to Civil Rights, and with Barack Obama as the newly elected presidential candidate for the Democrat Party, it remains very much so.

Still, Atlanta is as welcoming as ever. The Marta metro trains retain that wonderfully rounded bright-orange-and-creamy-brown 70s feel to them, and the southern drawl continues to make art of pronounciation, constantly tempting you to ask people to repeat themselves just to hear their sweetly singing voices one more time around. And so we could not help but listen to Homeless Joe II as he told his story over and over again. We met Homeless Joe I down here three months ago, and we have been regretting not getting his story ever since. But now we finally have it. Black on white. Delivered in good, brotherly spirits. Ours, and ready for the telling.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-06-12T11:07:38-04:00

We've uploaded some pictures from the cit of brotherly love, Philadelphia. And while you're at it, check out the reels from the Phillies baseball game.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-06-09T19:12:21-04:00

We present our exclusive guide to getting lost in the New York Labyrinth of Dreams.

Washington DC.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-06-08T21:46:00-04:00

We’re trying to restitute the leftovers of our bodies after spending a great extended weekend in Washington DC. Francis, a salesman living within a mile of every monument we could wish to see, had invited us to spend the weekend at his place. His apartment is on the top floor of a luxurious apartment complex at 7th Street.

Washington DC is obviously known as the capitol of the states, but to be honest we haven’t really seen to much of it. The thing is, we got kinda drunk…

Francis had a few friends over for a beer after work on friday, and we gladly met all the guys - a great and joyfully diverse group. At some point we decided to move the party down stairs to a bar called Clyde’s. It’s a great place that besides a vast assortment of beverages also has a great kitchen.

It turned out it was a going away party for Sean, one of Francis’ old friends - a real estate agent - who was saying goodbye to his colleagues, and oh my - what a send off. We were served with Marland Crab Soup, Burgers, fresh oysters served on ice, shrimps, calamari, and alcohol. Lots of alcohol…

We even got a shot that had fresh oyster, tabasco and horse radish in it. We appreciate that we got to try it, but not sure we’ll be doing it again any time soon.

Well, after Clyde’s we went back to Francis’ and after that we went to a second bar, and although we’ve spent time trying to retrace our steps, we’re not sure how it happened - but after the second bar - a pool hall - we decided to keep the party going at the house of some of the real estate agents. And we pretty much did - it was only when we woke up that we found out that we’d gone to Virginia, a different state. The train ride did feel like it took a long time - and that explained why.

But they were very nice people and gave us a ride back to Washington, and we spent the day on which we had planned a visit to some of the Smithsonian museums passed out on Francis’ couch.

Totally worth it!

We did however spend a day walking the streets and parks of the city, so look forward to our Washington DC photo reels tomorrow - but for now, here's a shot of Capitol Hill.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-06-06T14:40:43-04:00

Kristian continues his thoughts on food and reminisces over the champions.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-06-05T12:23:45-04:00

Joe Rose is ready to meet the world in Anne-Mette's Gallery!

Wilmington, Delaware.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-06-03T17:25:30-04:00

We have arrived in Delaware where our hosts, Jenny and Matt have set up us up in their living room on two gigantic and equally comfortable mattresses. Wilmington is a small town located in the northern part of Delaware, just 20 minutes by train from Philadelphia. The apartment has a 40 feet terrace and a view over the river and city skyline. And believe it or not it just becomes even more beautiful after sunset.

The Brandywine Park and River area start in the middle of town and head out west. It is a serene and tranquil place where you can get away from the vibrant city life, located around Rodney Square - home of the city library, bus stops and the place where Market Streets stores start their parade.

We took a long walk around town and especially in the Brandywine area on a warm monday evening. It was a remarkable thing to experience such nature in the middle of an american city - pretty much a first for us. But then again, Wilmington hosts no more than 80.000 residents, and has major banking industry in midtown. So I guess that does give a sound foundation for keeping midtown clean.

Last night after walking we go treated to Lasagne and Lima beans - the latter prepared in a mixture of olive oil, basel and garlic - and today we’re off to the greek festival, so here’s a little prayer of us getting some nice lamb tonight!

We’re staying with Jenny and Matt until thursday, and then we’ll be going to Washington DC, for a week. But stay tuned for more pictures from this little piece of heaven.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-06-03T14:09:06-04:00

Kristian has some views on God and Grease.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-06-01T14:33:28-04:00

Anne-Mette sketches Joe Rose, and tries to solve the old riddle: Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?

Phillyharmonics

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-30T13:59:11-04:00

Two states and several cities removed from The Big Apple, we still have pieces of its skin sticking between our teeth. It is as if the great tree of Manhattan had spread its roots all the way out here to Philadelphia. Our current host Greg considers himself to be, if not from New York, then at least from the New York Area. First and foremost a jazz drummer, he feels musically connected to the big city record labels that commercialized his genre back in the early to mid 20th century.

Still, Philly is something quite different from New York. Spread out over a vast area, it is comprised of hoods and districts with their very own and very local feel to them. Spruce Hill where Greg lives borders on a large African and a somewhat smaller Muslim community. It used to be a rough part of town, but since college kids and artists started moving in, everything has changed. The big old run-down town houses with their cozy porches and tiny gardens are now home to a vibrant mixture of musicians and writers from diverse ethnic backgrounds. Greg lives together with five of his friends, and so far everybody we have met seems to be involved with music in one way or another.

Last night we went to hear Greg play with an assorted group of Balkan and jazz musicians in a dive bar across the street. Located in a tiny room above an Ethiopian restaurant, it almost felt like gatecrashing a private apartment. Hesitant at first, we ordered a local beer, and snug into a corner at the far end of the room - that is, some fifteen feet from the doorway. A toy tarantula the size of a ceiling fan hung suspended just above our heads, and we had the somewhat awkward feeling of being the only ones who did not know everybody else in the room. Luckily, it only lasted till the bartender - who also happens to be the manager, renting the place from the restaurant downstairs for 50 bucks a night - found out that we were staying with Greg. In the uncorking of a bottle we went from being strangers to being locals.

Tonight one of Greg's housemates is playing a gig at the bar with his bluegrass band. Apparently the bar manager supplies the vocals, so it is expected to be a big night. And with a bit of luck, we will be sufficiently hung over tomorrow to really start digging into the notorious Philly Cheese Steaks. More on that soon.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-29T11:32:39-04:00

Jacob went off-broadway and heard a tale told by twelve idiots.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-28T13:40:52-04:00

Kristian was sitting at 6th Avenue and tried to reclaim his senses.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-27T10:37:47-04:00

Jack in your favorite upbeat song, and watch our hectic reel of everyday NYC life.

The Sunny side of the city

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-25T22:21:14-04:00

What a day, what a night and bloody hell - what a week. New York just doesn’t stop, it never slows down or stands still. The taxis on Broadway bears resemblance to the almost hypnotic movement of a lit cigarette in the dark night, except there is no darkness and there is no night.

The hymn of this temple is speed. It is the impressive blink that puts you somewhere else in the time of a heartbeat, and how we enjoy this seduction. It is as if every light on Times Square lights the world just for us, and constantly invites us to dance - but when we accept the invitation is already extended to the person next to us.

But alas, the sun always rises in New York - and were we expecting cold, we have been let down in every sense of the word. The temperature has been around 70 degrees, and the hospitality equally enjoyable. We’ve stayed in Manhattan, Brooklyn, Jersey city and have been shown the best of times and places wherever we have been.

On a warm thursday afternoon it all came together tho. In all its hectic splendor we were given one of those small, everyday epiphanies that just warms you to the point where you just can’t stop smiling and giggle. You find yourself reduced to a giggling jackass just looking around for someone to hug. Luckily no one got within range, or thing just might have gotten a wee bit awkward.

We had been traveling with the subway, and although it truly gets you from one point to another - and very effectively, it can also be a somewhat gloomy feeling to go underground and feel the cold that not even modern technology can hold at bay. And just as we were succumbing to the catatonic state of mind that one so easily gives in to underground - we come out of the tunnel and are illuminated by the soothing rays of the sun. For 5 minutes we just stare out of the window as we are transported deeper into Queens, and become more and more invigorated.

And just in case we hadn’t gotten it the first time around, New York gave us the final push towards the above mentioned state of smiling:

I mean - this really isn’t fair, is it?

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-23T11:33:38-04:00

Jacob has more Preachings from the Pulpit of the Profane Prophet

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-22T12:24:59-04:00

Kristian wants to introduce people to his invisible acquaintance Howie.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-21T11:57:51-04:00

Pictures from a New York Walkabout.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-19T19:50:35-04:00

Anne-Mette has had Visions of Nothing and Nola - see the portrait.

Offtrack with Amtrak

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-19T09:57:29-04:00

It is two in the morning, and we have just arrived in New York after a hard day's travel. We are in Manhattan, somewhere between Fifth and Sixth Avenue, in a quiet two-bedroom apartment just above the boiler room. The heat makes it feel somewhat like New Orleans in here, but luckily our host John seems as cool as the late night beer he treated us to. It will not be long before we each pass out on either the comfy red couch or the large silvery air mattress - so we have decided to let our travel notes speak for themselves.

16:05 - We have boarded a train to New York after some ten days in Providence. Last night was a big night out with our hosts Luc and Nate, so today is somewhat hung over. Not least because of the greasy spoon we had this morning in downtown Woonsocket. Above and beyond the usual eggs, bacon and fries, it included the Rhode Island specialty known as Wieners. They are tiny hot dogs plastered with cheese and meat sauce, and sprinkled with steamed onions and pickles. They are best served fresh off the underarm of the chef, who - if he is any good one - should be able to balance some fifteen or sixteen at a time. In recent years, however, this number has decreased drastically as health commissioners have forced chefs not to stack the wieners any higher than their elbows.

16:19 - The panagraph just fell off our train! If you do not know what a panagraph is, do not worry. The lady on the intercom seemed a little confused about it, too. Apparently, it is the unit that connects the train to the power lines above the tracks. In other words, having the panagraph fall off the top of your train is just like having the engine drop out of the bottom of your car. You just do not go any further. You are stuck. All you can do is go back down the highway, and see if you can find whatever remains of your engine. The steward outside our window does not seem to be in too much luck, though. And pardon us for asking, but what the fuck is he going to do with it if he finds it? Duct tape it back on?

18:00 - It seems that they have finally given up on the panagraph. A rescue train from Boston should be down within the hour. It is hot as hell in here, and the hangovers are getting worse. They are out of water in the service coach, and with the electricity gone they cannot even brew us a decent cup of coffee. We have had to call our upcoming host in New York, and tell him that we might be getting in after bedtime. People on the train are still relatively calm, though their sense of humor is obviously being stretched, and isolated outbreaks of bitching have occured - especially among young mothers and the elderly. We might be adding disgruntled Danes to the list in a little while.

19:45 - The rescue train from Boston is finally pulling out of the station. We are about four hours late at this point, and we will probably be looking at 10 or 11 pm before we hit New York. If everything goes well, that is. Apparently, the repairs on the othertrain is causing signal disturbences all along the power line. Every now and then the lights will go out in our carriage, and the train will slow down to some ten or fifteen miles an hour. A cold beer would be really nice. Served with an armful of wieners and a power plug. We are running out of battery here ...

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-16T16:54:14-04:00

Watch the reels from our walk through old Providence.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-15T16:53:06-04:00

Kristian found his groove but lost his head while continuing Concepts of Dreaming.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-14T23:03:22-04:00

Jacob explores his budding sense of coming home in Lovecraft's Providence.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-13T14:33:19-04:00

Our portrait of Neal from Saratoga Springs "A steep Climb" is now up.

The Manville Residence

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-12T23:11:05-04:00

Just outside Providence in the state of Rhode Island in a town called Manville, lies a small coffee shop. It’s located in the front of a delightful two story wooden building on the outskirts of town. Every morning the locals will make a point of driving by to get a cup of coffee and a smile.

The sign hangs loosely over the door, and every now and then the wind will get a hold of it forcing it to swing back and forth and thereby call upon the neighbors with its sirenlike squeaking. According to the locals the coffee isn’t even that good, but it’s their coffee and it’s served with a smile - hell, she’ll even throw in some cream and a little sugar if you’re nice.

On sundays after service they come here as well. The laughter is joyful and careless and they’ll be standing all the way out in the street smiling and talking about the sermon. They’ll also be talking about if the Red Sox can win the 3rd title or if those damn Yankees will get back in gear once Alex Rodrigues returns. But most of all they’ll have their coffee, and they will get it at the little white and blue shop in Manville.

On the second floor, just over the entrance to the coffee shop is a porch. The porch belongs to the tenants who rent the 2nd floor from Sue, the elderly woman who lives next to the coffee shop. The tenants are two childhood friends, both working in construction - they go by the names Luc and Nate.

We’ve been invited to stay at their house for as long as we want to, and they’re driving us around Providence to see all the things we’re interested in seeing, so things couldn’t really be any better.

Right now they’re both incapacitated from the meal we made them - a special serving of danish meatballs with potatoes and gravy - and they just might have had what one could call “The Fatal Meatball”. Actually we suspect that for Nate it was the celebratory serving of three potatoes with a scoop of gravy that did the job, but that can only be speculation on our part.

Tomorrow night we’ll be visiting Providence again, and if lucky we’ll get to revisit the italian quarters and get a little more of the local pasta.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-12T00:45:48-04:00

Kristian went treasure hunting in the state of Rhode Island and found a gem called The Black Pearl.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-08T09:58:11-04:00

We strolled the streets and parks of Boston and took some springtime photos.

Boston in bloom

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-06T21:34:31-04:00

After days of rain & fog & flurries, spring has finally arrived. The sun is beating down from open blue skies, rejuvenating the earth and spreading rays of life into every little nook and cranny of town. Trees are hung with heavy rainbow necklaces of flowers, voluptuous and vulgar if it were not for their innocence. Everywhere, thick blades of grass dart from cracks in walls and sidewalks. Old mansions creak and sigh, wishing for death long overdue. For a few days, until lawnmowers and hedge trimmers reclaim what is theirs by force, the kingdom of concrete and plastic is overthrown, and the order that we have long since deemed chaos is reinstated. Spring has sprung its trap, and we are no longer children of men, but children of nature, frolicking in her beauty.

Downtown the streets are filled with curious hermits emerging from their dark and dampened homes to ponder the miracle that have stirred them in their winter's sleep. They walk about, heads reclining on pillows of hot air, softened by breezes blowing between towers of stone, dreaming of a summer that has now been prophesied. Pigeons alight at their feet, picking at crumbs of bread dropped in wonder long forgotten and soon remembered. A homeless wino sleeping on a bench in the park is jerked away by the crying of a child trying to escape the confinement of her stroller. Eyes blinded by the sun, temples throbbing with booze and heat, he staggers to his feet, sways dangerously for a moment or two, then falls to the ground like a holy man whose god had just stepped down from above. Change is upon him as it is upon us all. We breathe, and we breathe again.

Boston feels strangely like home. We are staying with friends from Denmark in their spacious house in Jamaica Plains, ten minutes by train from downtown. We rise with them and their son while the dew is still heavy on the grass, spending our days at leisure, lured from place to place by smells and sounds and sights - and by the power of our imagination. Every street corner, every row of trees, every glittering facade, holds the promise of experience, the challenge of all that has been, and all that is to come. Boston is in bloom, the world is ripe, and we are back on our feet with free mileage and no car.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-06T10:07:06-04:00

Kristian wrote a blog about the concepts of dreaming.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-02T21:38:53-04:00

We've added some photos from out trip to Walden Pond, once the residence of famed writer Henry David Thoreau.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-01T20:37:38-04:00

Jacob tells the tale of Bloated Barbie and Sickening Sara.

On the road

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-05-01T00:34:22-04:00

We’re currently making our way from Ashland to Boston. We’re just south of Saratoga Springs, New York staying with a fellow couchsurfer, Neal. We are four couchsurfers staying at the house tonight, but the more the merrier! We drove through the Adirondacks on out way here - some great sights to see, the downside to traveling here outside the tourist season turned out to be that everything is closed. So no museums or anything this time around.

The two other guys, Matt and Piers are botanists from Duke University. They are out collecting samples of moss - when done they will be going back to North Carolina to examine the genetic strings of the samples. Matt, on the right, invites us to visit him in Durham - hometown of Duke University - when we pass through North Carolina.

Piers made shrimp fettucini and Neal was well stocked on beer, so we had a great night. Tomorrow we’ll be driving around to see the many sights of the area, and hopefully sample some more local cuisine - good stuff. Friday is Thoreau day. We’ll be spending the weekend in Concorde, visiting Walden Pond - the place where Thoreau lived for two years while writing ‘Walden’. Should be plenty of good photo opportunities, so stay tuned.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-29T20:59:08-04:00

Browse through our photos from the quiet out-of-season idyl of Lake George (town) in Adirondack Park, New York State.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-28T21:31:03-04:00

Anne-Mette has news on Nola.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-27T22:13:59-04:00

A change of seasons our article from Ashland, Wisconsin is now online.

From Ashland to Ashtabula

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-26T21:14:03-04:00

Yesterday we finally succeeded in leaving Ashland. We had been trying to get out of town for a few days prior, but the place and its people seemed to have cast a spell on us. In the end it took a fully booked motel and a blizzard warning to get us out of there. So now we are back on the road, working our way from Lake Superior to the East Coast. It is going to be a good 1000 miles getting there, so we will probably throw in a rest day or two - and maybe even do some couchsurfing.

We spent last night at a Super 8 Motel somewhere along Highway 75 going south through Michigan. After driving through heavy fog all day, we were simply too knackered to find out exactly where. All we could manage was to drag our butts across the parking lot, and treat ourselves to one of the worst fast food meals yet. Arby's specialize in roastbeef sandwiches and corkscrew fries, but unfortunately their specialties do not even meet the standards of the non-specialties of the competition. And as if that were not bad enough in itself, the three-person staff serving us seemed to have trouble figuring out the chain of command, resulting in a shouting match, and two cups of lukewarm coffee to top it all off.

Today has been more sun and less hassle. We took a sharp turn east at the Michigan border just as the NFL Draft began on the radio around 3 pm, and we have been following the broadcast and the southern shore of Lake Erie ever since. Now the first day of the draft is over, and the teams have each chosen their fist batch of college players before the upcoming season, and we are stuck in a nice little motel room in Ashtabula, Ohio. The lady at the front desk has thin white hair and a parrot in a cage. Behind the motel, a little cedar grove spreads out, hopefully all the way down to the lake. We will find that out later tonight, or in the morning when we take our laptops down there, and do a final write-up of our portrait from Ashland and the Bad River reservation. So be sure to check back Monday for our take on native small-town America.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-24T22:17:29-05:00

Jacob has been thinking about The Beautiful Bastards.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-23T22:22:32-05:00

Kristian was researching and got kinda upset.

A few days in the life of Ashland.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-22T14:16:01-05:00

We’re almost ready to continue our travels. Ashland and the view of Lake Superior still holds a spell on us, and we have a little unfinished business, but by wednesday morning we should be on the road again. We haven’t really decided on a route yet, but we’re either heading for Chicago, which would take us south or we could chose to go north around Lake Michigan - it really is intriguing traveling like we do.

We spent the weekend in a dorm house called ‘Gaia’s Cradle’. A nice and comfortable that even provided us with separate bedrooms. The residents (usually more but they just finished their finals so everyone has gone home), Calvin and Maggie took great care of us. every night they would hold potlucks and people from around town - both students and others would come and join in. Everyone would bring a little food or a bottle of wine, and we would just sit the table and tell stories of past and present.

On sunday we went on a road trip to the town of Bayfield just 25 miles north of Ashland. Bayfield lives of tourists in the summer, so it was very quiet - bordering on deserted. It is a beautiful town with a lovely harbor and nice wooden houses. We ate in a little diner and had lovely pumpernickel sandwiches. Word of advice though: their homemade spicy mayonnaise is really, really, spicy. Kristian nearly blew a fuse trying to put out the fire in his mouth with scolding hot coffee.

We spent the night from monday to tuesday at the Wilmarth, and old school currently owned by three brothers and sisters who have converted it into a residential building, but also have their respective design and production studios in the building. A very nice and warm place.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-21T23:44:41-05:00

We have uploaded pictures from the city of Ashland, Wisconsin.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-20T23:51:04-05:00

Kristian has been Contemplating the Clarity.

A superior view

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-19T19:21:36-05:00

The views from our motel rooms just keep getting better. Moving from Green Bay to Ashland also meant moving from a view of Lambeau Field to a view of Lake Superior. The surface is still frozen, and just a few weeks backs it was even dotted with tiny shacks. Local fishermen would go there to punch holes in the ice and fish - and to get a bit of respite from their wives. So our friends up at Northland College tell us. They live in a house on campus called Gaia's Craddle. The house used to be a designated gender studies house, and one of the rooms is reserved for distressed women seeking shelter from abusive husbands. Apparently, that is how you come full circle up here. The men take to the lake, while the women take to Gaia's Craddle.

Ashland is a small community of some 8000 inhabitants. Most of them used to be in the iron mining business, but since resources became depleted back in the 1960s, students and tourists are all they have to go on. Big wooden villas line most of the broad streets, but their size betray the average income in the area. Still, though money are scarce except for the tourist season, you can easily see why people should choose to live here. Lake Superior is always in view from the many streets that slant down towards it, and everywhere you go, nature follows with you. The area used to be occupied by Native Americans who were guided here by prophecy. The prophecy spoke about "the food that grows on water", and that food turned out to be the wild rice that grows not only on the surface of the lake, but also on the moving bodies of water in the surrounding rivers. Today, Ashland is flanked by two Native American Reserves - Bad River and Red Cliff.

We drove through Bad River Reserve coming here from the east on Highway 2, but all we saw was a big casino. Maggie from Gaia's Craddle tells us that the reserve is mostly off limits to non-natives. However, one of her professors at Northland is a Native American, and she is trying to arrange for him to show us around the reserve. If that comes through, you will be sure to hear more about it soon. For now, just sit back for a moment, and enjoy the peaceful tranquility of the frozen lake.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-18T14:09:19-05:00

Anne-Mette's first picture, the portrait of Eric Schultz, is now up!

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-18T14:07:10-05:00

Jacob has a new blog entry.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-16T22:12:00-05:00

We have a new photo section from our time in Nashville, Tennessee. After that check out the reels from Lambeau Field, the home of Green Bay Packers.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-16T18:54:45-05:00

Anne-Mette has news from Denmark. Check out her works in progress.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-15T23:51:49-05:00

Kristian has a new blog entry

Green Bay, Wisconsin

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-15T22:14:37-05:00

We made it, finally. After two pretty long days and roughly 950 miles, we’re in Title Town. We found a room on Hotwire.com, paying 40$ per night, and it turns out to be just across the street to fabled Lambeau Field (home of the fabled NFL team Green Bay Packers). Simply amazing!

We had a walk around the impressive stadium and the neighborhood it’s located in. Although we expected Green Bay to be Packers country, it’s pretty overwhelming to see how much they actually support the team. The Lambeau Field stadium (named after the founder) is located on Lombardi Avenue (a former coach), and a block down, just behind the Dun Hutson Gym (a former player), you’ll find Holmgren Street (yet another coach).

If you should be fortunate enough to have the time, go down Holmgren Street to Favre Pass (named after a former quarterback, too). Go down the pass, and you’ll get to Favre’s Steak House. Go in, get a table, sit down - and enjoy!

Kristian ordered a Favre’s Signature Steak, a 20 oz (roughly 600g) specialty with mushrooms and a baked sweet potato the size of Sicily. Jacob got the Rookie Ribeye Steak, basically only a set of horns shy of being a whole cow. But oh! the pleasure! The quality of the meat was overwhelming and drinking an ice cold draught beer after two days in a car was just delightful.

Tomorrow we’re going on a tour of Lambeau Field, The Packers Hall of Fame, and then on a shopping spree in the gift shop!

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-15T00:51:38-05:00

Jacob has a new blog entry.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-13T20:43:21-05:00

Anne-Mette has news from Denmark. Check out her works in progress.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-13T09:58:14-05:00

We have some photos from The Shack Up Inn in Mississippi and a reels section from the almost obliterated 9th ward in New Orleans.

Nashville Skyline

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-11T15:32:57-05:00

We have arrived at a public parking space in Nashville, Tennessee. There is a hurricane watch on until four, and already the rain is flooding the streets. Just a couple of hours ago we were at the Green Hills Mall in the upscale Vanderbilt University part of town. It was a pleasant if somewhat grey morning. As we walked in, a friendly lady told us there was a tornado warning up in Dickson. We just nodded. We did not have a clue where Dickson was, and we sure did not have any intention of going there.

When we got back out, rain was coming down in thick lashing ropes. A constant spray rose from the sides of the car as if we were a modern Moses parting the waters of the urban sea. Visibility was down to a few meters, and even though the wipers were working overtime, they only allowed for occasional moments of clarity. We tried to put on the radio to relieve some of the stress of driving, but unfortunately the traffic report was on. The host was in the middle of reading out a long list of weather-related accidents and injuries from all over Nashville. Word by word his machine gun voice slowed down our car until it came to a complete standstill. The road seemed liquid with rain. For a moment it felt as if we were going to be swept away. That is when we opted for the relative safety of the parking lot.

We spent last night with the anarchist couchsurfer host Nate and his girlfriend. They are part of the group that runs the city's "food not bombs" programme. They pick up the food from dumpsters around town, and cook it for the homeless people. Unfortunately they have just been evicted from the house where they had their kitchen, so it is a bit uncertain what is going to happen now. But considering their high level of involvement, we are sure that they will come up with something. Their next project is a big public event putting focus on squatters in empty houses around town. We cross our fingers, and wish them the best of luck. As to ourselves, we are off to hook up with a Chinese-American guy that is hosting us for the weekend.

By the way, the rain just stopped, and the sun is back out. Thanks to whatever nearby hotel is delivering the free wi-fi to our car. Stay tuned, and we will do the same.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-10T20:02:38-05:00

New portrait up.

Shacked up in Mojo Land

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-09T16:46:20-05:00

A seven hour drive straight up north from New Orleans has landed us right at the crossroads of Highways 61 & 49. This is the place Robert Johnson went and sold his soul to the devil for a bit of the old guitar-picking mojo magic. This is the place hobos jumped off boxcars to drink bootleg whisky and live the blues. This is the place Bill decided to set up a row of shotgun shacks, and accommodate weary travelers like ourselves. This is Clarksdale in the Mississippi Delta.

We have set up shop in the Electric Blue Shack for a few days to digest the impressions from New Orleans, and write a portrait of The Big Easy. The move from a 4½ star hotel to a wood cabin with tin roof is quite a big one, but we are doing alright. Our basic needs are fully provided for, and as this upload goes to show we even have internet access. We spend our days sitting on the porch with a mug of coffee in one hand, and a few stray thoughts in the other - sometimes writing, sometimes just watching the trucks go by. And the only blue things about it are the house and the sky.

The area is by far the poorest we have visited so far. We found out this morning when we went into town to do a bit of shopping. We stopped by the local Save-A-Lot supermarket, and walked straight into a wall of canned everything. The vegetables looked about as fresh as corpses dragged out of the Mississippi River on a hot summer's day, and the favourite meat seemed to be salted pork fat. We bought white bread, yellow cheddar, and pinkish ham sliced at a quarter of an inch apiece.

On our way back we saw state prisoners working by the side of the road. Their overseer seemed to have gone off to lunch, and they were perfectly camouflaged in stripes of green and white. It was the perfect day for an escape, but nobody was going anywhere. Perhaps because they would not know where to run. It is all fields and swamps out here, and even our janitor carries a rifle across the back seat of his lawn mower. So don't worry. We'll be just fine.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-08T18:15:28-05:00

Kristian has a new blog entry And check out the New Orleans photos.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-07T20:33:15-05:00

Anne-Mette has news from Denmark. Check out her works in progress.

Live footage from the Ninth Ward

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-06T10:42:28-05:00

The Ninth Ward was one of the neighbourhoods most severely affected by Hurricane Katrina back in 2005. When the levee broke, the area was flooded with about 20 feet of water. Cars and houses literally floated down the streets, stranding people and furniture on roofs and in tree tops. Two and a half years later, most of the houses have either been demolished or abandoned in various states of disrepair. Rebuilding is only coming on slowly, caught up in the complex power struggles between local and government initiatives.

We will soon be posting more on our experiences in the Ninth Ward, but for now we just want to share some of our live footage from the place with you. All the recordings are taken from the window of our car as we drive through the neighbourhood. We are guided around by Andy who is a volunteer in the Common Ground Collective, an anarchistic organization founded by the former Black Panthers member Malik Rahim to provide relief aid for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Andy has been with the organization ever since he gave up his home in Ohio and came to New Orleans to help out two years ago. If you turn up the volume, you can hear him giving out bits and pieces of information about the places we see.

The first recording is from our trip through the Upper Ninth Ward which was the least affected part of the neighbourhood. Look for the scrawlings on the side of the houses that still have not been repaired or rebuilt. An "X" indicates that a house has been searched by the National Guard, while the numerals disclose important information, such as the number of casualties found inside. However, Andy told us that more than half a year after the hurricane struck he would still find bodies inside houses that had been marked off as officially searched.

The second recording is from the Lower Ninth Ward which was almost completely wiped out by the hurricane. What appears to be overgrown plots of land is in fact the remains of a once crowded and lively neighbourhood. Look for the concrete foundations that indicate where the houses once stood. You will even see stone steps leading up to front doors that are no longer there.

The last recording is a view from the levee that separates the Lower Ninth Ward from a cedar plantation that was intentionally flooded by the government back in the 1960s. The salt water killed off the trees, leaving only deadened strumps behind. This is where the flood broke through in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. The old black guy is a New Orleansian known as Red. He was born and raised in the Lower Ninth Ward, and had lived there his entire life when the flooding occured. Today he looks back with wonder at the incompetence of the government in protecting the only home he ever had.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-05T02:28:00-05:00

Jacob has a new blog entry.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-03T19:13:15-05:00

Kristian has a new blog entry.

Scenic Route US 90

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-02T20:31:03-05:00

We have arrived in Bay Saint Louis, Mississippi, on our way to New Orleans. The motel is pretty cheap-ass, and we are still waiting for the manager to come fix the doorknob to our bathroom (our bladders are about to burst as we type this entry). The Vietnamese woman behind the counter at the gas station across the highway is nice, but she seems pretty obsessed about getting ID whenever you try to buy something more incriminating than a bottle of water. And her English is pretty lacking as well. What the hell, we are only here for the night.

We came by what the signs described as the "scenic route" heading west from Pensacola. However, Hurricane Katrina that nearly washed New Orleans into the sea a few years back seems to have put quite a different spin on the word "scenic". The beach is a mess, the palm trees are mostly gone, and the old colonial villas that used to dot the Mississippi coastline have been replaced by new and less decorative structures. It is pretty much non-stop road work all the way, and if you did not know any better you would probably think that somebody just reenacted D-Day down there.

Tomorrow we are off to New Orleans to try our hands at something new. We are planning to do a portrait of the city based on the people we meet and the places we see. We have already set up a couple of interviews with a journalist who have traveled all over the US and a volunteer who moved there to help rebuild the city. We are pretty excited about the whole thing, and hope to write you some interesting stuff while there.

For now, all we got on offer is a little slideshow of our impressions along Scenic Route US 90. Be sure to check it out in the Roadside Reels section.

See you in NOLA!

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-04-01T20:25:02-05:00

Our portrait of Mark Burch Spending time with the Godfather is up.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-31T17:10:26-05:00

Kristian has a new blog entry.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-30T22:59:21-05:00

Jacob has a new blog entry, new photos are up and a new slideshow is available.

Seaside Dystopia

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-30T11:40:57-05:00

Yesterday was a day of contrasts. Mark Burch - also known as the Godfather of Gay - took us on a trip to Panama City Beach, and beyond. We ended up in the Seaside Area which is basically a small town unto itself. Nurtured by a wholly materialistic take on the American Dream, it was built as an upscale resort for the truly rich and famous. Summer houses that are only used for a few months of the year will set you back several million dollars, and the local glass art shop several thousand if your kid accidentally elbows down one of the pieces on sale.

Mark's friend Josh grew up in the these parts of Florida only to become harshly critical of his own country. He tagged along on our trip, and gave us an insider's view of how areas like Seaside can generate anger and frustration in young Americans like himself. Attending a neon-lit bubble-gum concert by a couple of famous YouTube guitarists, and hanging out at a soulless bar packed with rich kids on spring break, he told us how growing up in Panama City had felt like being under constant attack by his surroundings. "I don't have anything in common with these people," he said, almost spitefully lighting up another cigarette.

Thinking back on the poverty we saw in downtown Atlanta and going through rural Georgia, it was incredible to the point of nausea to see such a stupefying display of riches. It felt like going directly from one extreme kind of desperation to another - and neither of them came across as being particulary fulfilling. Driving around with a couple of left-wing political activists in the car probably did not ligthen up things a whole lot, but still we are sure that our evening of fun would have ended just as quick if we had been on our own.

Right this moment, we are sitting at the Trigo coffee shop enjoying truly European café lattes and croissants - the best we have had of both so far. Soon we will be back out on the road, heading towards Pensecola in the northwesternmost part of Florida. Once there, Mark will set up a meeting with a lawyer from the American Civil Liberties Union for us. Anyway, we need to kick back in a hotel for a few days to express our impress, and get our next portrait over and done with. So stay tuned to learn more about the life and nature of Mark Burch, the Godfather of Gay.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-28T14:22:19-05:00

Kristian has a new blog entry.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-28T14:22:02-05:00

Jacob has a new blog entry.

Greetings from Panama City (Florida).

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-28T10:00:37-04:00

We made safely to Panama City, Florida. It’s a little pearl in the northwestern Florida at the Gulf of Mexico. The city is divided into two; Panama City and Panama City Beach. The latter is currently under occupation from spring breakers drinking their minds and souls out, so obviously we’ll go have a look.

We're staying with Mark, semi-retired pharmacist, active in the ACLU (American Civil Liberties Union). We're going exploring friday but for now enjoy, enjoy some of the pictures in our photo section. I know it looks perilous, but try not to worry too much about us. We are, after all, survivors :D

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-26T22:25:31-04:00

Our first portrait up!

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-26T20:10:42-04:00

Pictures form Medart, Florida.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-26T10:06:51-04:00

Our portrait artist Anne-Mette has gotten off to a good start with her first painting back home in Denmark. Check out her works in progress.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-26T10:05:53-04:00

Jacob has a new blog entry.

Roadtrip

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-25T21:51:46-04:00

We picked up the car in Atlanta and drove south. We got so hyped about it that we ended up driving all the way to Wakulla County, Florida, and will be spending the night in the Best Western Hotel in Medart. It seems like an ice hotel, and we are just about the only guests here. No pictures of the car just yet, it deserves a waterside!

On the other hand, what kind of diary would it be if we didn’t share all the action with you - so here goes. The trip from Atlanta to Florida in three sequential yet dramatic photos. Behold the splendor:

100 miles:

200 miles:

... and Bingo was his name:

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-24T19:37:16-04:00

Kristian has a new blog entry.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-24T12:09:36-04:00

Jacob has a new blog entry.

Happy Easter from Athens

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-23T21:49:05-04:00

Today we celebrated Easter Sunday with our host Eric and his girlfriends at Watkinsville First Baptist Church. The folder we were handed at the entrance said: "Hallelujah! He's alive!" - and it did not let us down. Pastor Carlos Sibley held an inspired sermon about Jesus, not only as the son of God, but as a real living person. Questions like "Did Jesus eat up his green beans when he was a kid?" and "Was he any good at playing hoops?" drew both laughter and applause from the crowd. As did the comparison between the beliefs that Jesus rose and that Elvis might still be alive on some deserted Pacific Island. Something not as far-fetched as it might sound when you consider the upbeat rock music that flowed live from stage between sermons.

After service Eric introduced us to the pastor, gave us a tour of the church grounds, and invited us to Easter lunch with friends and family. We were treated to good company and an abundance of food (freshly

sliced apples dipped in caramel sirup is a must-try!), and pretty much felt like we were part of the big happy family of friends that Eric hangs out with. We still are not sure what separates Baptism from other Protestant Christian churches, but whatever it is, it sure did not get in the way of openness and hospitality.

Big thanks to Eric and his friends for a great weekend - and to all you other guys, check out the church website. We have begun work on our first portrait article (about Eric, of course), and hope to have it ready for upload in a few days. Until then, keep an eye out for new blog and photo updates.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-22T22:58:44-04:00

Kristian has a new blog entry, and there are some photos from our day in Athens.

Athens, Georgia.

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-21T22:00:12-04:00

We're alive and kicking, visiting Eric Schultz, an under-grad student at the University of Georgia .We'll have some pictures from campus and the charming downtown Athens tomorrow (edit: tomorrow has come, check out the tour). For now, enjoy the sight of what happens when Kristian ventures into a Ben & Jerry's to pick up a smoothie.

A sunday fudge special with chocomocha, caramel topping, chocolate sauce, whipped cream - and the token banana on the side.

Atlanta, Georgia

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-19T21:25:13-04:00

I swear to God we're jinxed! It has only been 24 hours since we touched down in Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta, Georgia, and the mayor has already declared a state of emergency downtown. Blue lights are flashing outside our Super 8 Downtown Motel window, and the street has been blocked off down by the corner and all the way up to the towering Westin Building. Last Friday's storm blew some nasty holes in the windows up there in the sky, and now shards the size of 40'' TVs have begun falling from the sky. We feel strangely welcome!

Tomorrow we are off to see The World of Coca-Cola® and the allegedly largest aquarium in the world, both of them located smack in the middle of the local disaster area. And if we haven't gone down all sugar-shocked and ichtyomerized by Friday morning, we will continue on to Athens (which, like Dublin and other European strongholds, all have their almost exact replicas right here in Georgia!). Once there, a good online friend of Kristian's has promised to keep us company and show us the sights around town. We're all excited, and hope that we won't have to wear our hard hats there as well.

From today onwards this page will be updated with travel info every few days. Also, you can read more about our personal encounters with the American way on our separate blogs (find the links under our profile descriptions in the menu on your right).

The journey is on, and we hope that you're ready to take it in with us.

See you around,

Kristian & Jacob

Day One

knorgaard@mac.com — 2008-03-14T16:51:40+01:00

Welcome to our roadside diaries. The first page will be turned on the 18th of March 2008. That's when we set out for the US. Two dreamy Danes in search of American reality.

What lives do they lead in the land of the free?
What visions do they hold in the land of dreams?
What changes do they bring in the land of opportunity?

We travel the roads and visit the homes of a nation surrounded by fear, hope, and prejudice. Ours and yours, theirs and the media's. Every day we rant and ramble about experiences on our way, and every week we present an in-depth feature article about a select few of the many people we chance upon. Our aim is to provide as many and as diverse answers to our questions as possible. Only then can we begin to understand.