Outsider

I'm getting ready for a little break, and then I'm on to the final stretch of this big adventure. I put the prairie behind me, and then the endless rolling hills of Wisconsin. I've had my fair share of flat tires, mishaps and calm days... mostly feeling blessed and moving swiftly under blue skies.

It was easy, crossing the flatlands. Besides the obvious lack of hills... the people are generally kind and open, and for awhile camping became really accessible again. I slept in plenty of city parks, behind one local high school, and in a few relatively cheap motels.

What I have encountered out here however, is the subtle and pervasive racism that undercurrents daily life. People here will tell you... "Oh you dont have to worry... This is the Midwest. No locals will bother you." Eventually you begin to understand the implied translation...Most people out here are white. Except those Mexicans who come through to work. Keep an eye out.

This became more evident to me when shopping for the cheapest motel in a given town. The white owner of a local motel will often tell me.... " Well, if you don't care about cleanliness, there's an Indian owned place down the street. That's cheaper. But I'm the cheapest English motel." I have heard this argument in various tones and with varying degrees of overt discrimination. The theory is clear, however... Those Indian owned places are dirty.

For the record.... Indian run motels are the only way to go out here. They are always cheaper, most likely because they have to lower prices to combat racism. They are always clean, have everything you need, and the owners are invariably interesting people.

The other morning I left a motel somewhere in Wisconsin, stopping to chat with the owner and his wife. They are surprised that I know anything about the geography of India. We talk about art, and about the Hindu temple that was built in Chicago. I promise to visit it next time I'm in town. They once lived in the Himalayas for a month of retreat.

That evening, I roll into another small town... Chilton, Wisconsin. The owner of the only motel in town is so overtly racist that I call him on it. When I tell him that I am offended (at the usual argument... Indian places are dirty), he tells me that he knows his business and that I'm a fool. He remains defensive when I check my phone for anyplace cheaper and practically throws me out.

I left nearly in tears... tired, and not sure where I'll be able to sleep. I talk to a few locals and they all raise their eyebrows at me when I talk about local camping. The town is affluent, and I know the cops will kick me out if they find me.

That night I rode another 26 miles to get out of Wisconsin. It got dark and I cranked up Adam Green in my headphones, needing the insanity and chaos to keep me going. I thought about race, and American history. I got tired and bleary eyed, but I made a decision. I needed to get out. I rode until 11 at night, and jumped on the midnight ferry to Michigan. I fell asleep on the open air deck, in the damp air, under the stars...

At five-thirty am, in Ludington, Michigan, I stopped at a local bakery for coffee and a donut. The place has been there since the early 1900's. I chatted with the old man, and the bakers, wondering how I would stay awake. I swung by a local motel, and by chance, the owners were awake, and willing to let me check in at 6:30 am, despite their 2pm check in time... another rad Indian couple. I passed out happy and exhausted...I had ridden over 80 miles, the longest day I've ever ridden.

I'm still in Ludington now, and I will be here for a few more days. I found a great local campground, and I'm getting a few chores done before I head into the woods for a the next couple weeks. I will be off the map... no phone, no internet... until the 14th of August. More adventures when I return. Until then, much love.

xo Malcolm