Happy Camper Bus
DJ the cheese stewardess, Dave the Scrabble mongrel and the Gang!
Happy Camperbus 2008-06-03 18:28:36 UTC

While I am still halfway near devastation over the (as mentioned, hopefully temporary) loss of the hard drive containing our journey photographs, I will continue to update our blog happily. I have a few photos taken from our cell phone that I will improvise with until we recover the others, at which time I will update the blog accordingly.

Anyhow, we arrived in Eugene, Oregon and were tickled over the array of VW Buses and rich, artsy culture the neighborhood presented at first glance. Quite an amazing place to happen across. After driving around and around the neighborhood (Whitaker respectively, the heart of Eugene) marveling, we settled in a coffeehouse called The Wandering Goat, and scarcely left there for the next three days.

This place had a very warm feel, good music and they allowed Capone dog inside! The drinks were suburb and the food style vegan. The people turned out to out shine all of the perks of the place however.

Right away we met these two folks featured in the photos. DJ a self-proclaimed cheese stewardess at a local health food store, introduced herself and welcomed us to Eugene. She rides her bike to the coffeehouse regularly and had an overall happy-go-lucky personality (despite her funny faced photo). She has lived there for 18 years and raved about her time there. She made a point to give us a hug good-bye and a hopeful ‘see you again soon, glad you landed here’.

Meanwhile, Dave, another local who’s story I will save for another post, invited us to a Scrabble match, in which he proceeded to kick our butts and promptly challenge us to a rematch the following morning at 10am at ‘The Goat’. It felt like home.

As the night wore on we met and were introduced to a few dozen other local residents.

Ruben, a writer and painter who lives at a place called ‘Fucker Rocker Central’ immediately pulled up a chair upon introductions, and sat a while sharing stories about his life both good times and ill, and inquired genuinely about ours. This seemed the norm, we filled our days there sharing intimate tid bits with the locals…all of whom asked us to stay a bit longer or come back after our travels.

James, an older fellow, electrician, coped a squat for sometime speaking gently from his experiences.

Jimbo, the known-all-over-town (and loved) for being a party animal told us of his plans to complete a Rock Opera and invited us to stay to see the Olympian track and field trials that are coming soon.

Chip, Luke and Micheal all were celebrating a birthday this day.
Chip turned 53 and said he was born on a Friday the 13th. I asked if he has had a lucky life, he replied that he plays fiddle for a living.
Luke was 30 and looked like Buddy Holly. He was very quiet but his presence was appreciated, perhaps it was an off day, the big 3-0 and all.
Michael was 37 and a pleasant surprise. We thought him quite hickish at first…his John Deere hat, strange mannerisms and dialect fooled us. Turns out, he is a pretty highly evolved thinker and an extreme activist whom contributes a great deal, has been since college.

We met Ian Summers, a super-hip, dirty and oh-so-friendly punk rocker. His name was scribbled all over town (in a similar fashion to writing a boys name and number on the bathroom all) which seemed odd, but he truly is lovable.

Not only were we told by all to stay, hang around and find our way there, or at least come back after our travels…the sentiments were taken a bit further to a seemingly spiritual level, in that the locals believe certain people are drawn there and make it home because it is suppose to be so. They all meld together so completely well, it makes one wonder if that happens to be some form of a profound truth.

I miss the place already.