It’s not heaven, it’s Iowa. It’s not much, it’s corn fields. It’s not home, it’s different. I finished up my time in Omaha, just a few hundred feet from Iowa, split only by the Missouri River. On the west, Omaha, and to the east, Council Bluffs. Two very different cities in two very similar states. I rolled into Iowa at mid-day hoping that I could find a visitor center to point me in the direction of activities for the week. Though, there were no signs on the highway as I entered the state. But upon turning around, just before the last exit to leave the state, signs popped up for the visitor center. Odd.
I followed them only to be taken down a long road and end at a dirt lot. Nothing. Driving back and looking around, the signs definitely pointed towards the blank parking lot. Frustrated, I wandered into the historic downtown area for the chamber of commerce, not the best, but a start. Though unfortunately the lady at the desk didn’t seem to know much about the state, and simply read the titles of the brochures as she handed them to me. But none the less, I now had my own personal library on everything to do in the state: not much. The next big city was Des Moines, and I figured it would be a good place to start, I heard they even had a climbing wall!
Driving out, it was a quick and painless drive, but I had spent much of the day trying to figure things out and get a bearing. It was late, and at least my usual home could be found.
----
The smell. The sound. Cool damp air complimented by endless repeating thuds. Dark clouds above spilling over with untold amounts of rain, a great way to wake up in your house, but not in your car. Rain gear dawned, I made my way across the newly formed sea that was once a parking lot mere hours before. This was not a day that I wanted to spend outside wandering around. Searching fast, a Starbucks popped up on my radar, and I lost the day to the learning and working as per usual.
Thankfully, I had found one indoor activity that started later that evening, a poetry slam. Venturing down town and trying to find a parking spot was hecktic at best, driving like a blind dog with the speed of a tortoise, I manage to only piss off a few people and find a safe parking place. I ventured into the poetry slam, expecting something akin to the Mercury Café back in Denver, but was a bit disappointed. Though all the poetry was good, it wasn’t up to the Merc, I guess I started with some pretty good slams. Oh well. Afterward, the night had fallen, and with downtown lit up, I grabbed my camera to wander around and get some awesome night shots, as well as try not to get mugged. Fortunately I was successful at both.
