Stranger in a Strange Land – No. 2

This is part of an ongoing series regarding my transition from the Land of Lincoln to the Bluegrass State. For a list of previous articles in the series, type Stranger in a Strange Land into Lull’s search function on the right.

The natives here drive EVERYWHERE. The streets are wide, the parking lots plentiful. So when we told my father we wanted to live within walking distance of his house, he couldn’t understand it.

We tried to explain:
1. We like to walk.
2. Walking is good for us (and we’ve hardly done enough of it since the pooch’s passing).
3. Walking is better for the environment than driving.

We lucked out in our apartment search. In one walkable direction from our new digs (the world’s smallest apartment) are my father, a pharmacy, a grocery store, a hardware store, several interior decorator and antique shops, two bakeries, a flower shop, several cleaners and barbers, a rare and a used book shop, vets and dog groomers, numerous restaurants (Cajun, Japanese, Bar-B-Q, Indian), various clothing boutiques, banks, and a UPS store.

In the other direction we can walk to a grocery store, a pharmacy, a vet and dog groomer, a dry cleaner, a couple of restaurants, a bank, an Italian specialties market, a home-made ice cream shop, and a post office. It was in this direction I chose to walk yesterday to do a little grocery shopping.

I put my recycled bags into my trusty (though noisy) cart and set off. However, even the dogs of my new neighborhood know they live in a car culture.

My cart was an enemy in their territory and they let me know it. Barking trailed me from homes I didn’t even know had dogs. They barked the alarm along every block I took to the store. And back.

The experience stirred memories of strolling with the pooch. I couldn’t help but smile.

[Photo: If I didn’t walk through my neighborhood, I would have missed this tree’s face.]