We finally venture out of Cleveland. My dad tells me we're going to pass through Wooster on our way to Millersburg and then Berlin. We instantly get into an argument, my father and I, as soon as we leave about how much I use my care and whether or not I really need it. My mom breaks us up. He can be a bit of a jerk sometimes.
The further we get from Cleveland it seems to become significantly greener as we pass by actual yards full of grass and tall urban (or suburban) trees. There are no birds, just blue skies hanging overhead with whiffs of clouds like leftover smoke from a fire.
There's nothing but open road and interstate trees. We stop to get gas at a Speedway we can't get to at first. It's like a maze, and none of the signs really help us to get there. I only mention this because it's $2.68 which is moderately good for me and significantly good for my parents. In Rhode Island gas has pushed over $3. Some of the songs that we listen to seem to go well with what could be a potential soundtrack, Roundabout by Yes, Live and Let Die by Paul McCartney (maybe Wings I don't remember), Don't Let Me Down by E.L.O., Long Long Way from Home by Foreigner and Another One Bites the Dust by Queen. I'm not sure why these catch my ear, but they do.
We eventually pass into rural regions with broken down and quaint homes and corn-hole sets for sale. There is flat farmland for miles, and I know that at one point in time it was all woodland cut down for the sake of food. In some cases this is not a bad thing as it was probably done out of necessity, but I can clearly see the line where the old forest meets the new farmland. Tin roofs ancient white houses and barns litter the sides of the road.
Pheasant Ridges is tan brown roofed houses with brown shutters in what I would call wannabe suburbia. It's a sudden popup which is instantly followed by the country. Every yard seems to be pumping oil.
We make it to Wooster where we're met up with subdivisions, stores and schools that resemble churches. My parents decide to go into a Kohl's. In here I come to the true realization of my limitations. I bend over to try on some new white Reebok running shoes and I feel the pressure shift to my eye. I am instantly overcome by nausea, weakness and regret that I left my pain medication in the hotel.
We are quickly back on the road to Millersburg. We are headed to see the Amish (or as my friend who will remain anonymous says the mafia). We take a turn down a road with a detour sign that says bridge out 3 miles ahead, ominous to say the least. There's no detour, the bridge really is out and people have blocked their driveways to prevent drivers from turning around. We nearly get lost, but somehow find our way to an interstate. Unfortunately, we go in a circle, and come back to the place we were just lost at. My dad does something unheard of, he stops at a Stop n' Go for directions that are surprisingly accurate. We take a country road which lies near a creek (or canal) and other bodies of water. There are signs that warn if there's flooding we're not supposed to take this road, another bad sign. There is nothing but open farmland, random scattered trees, and some houses half of which are mobile.
According to my father Berlin is the largest Amish community, even bigger than the ones in Pennsylvania. This is hard to believe for me especially considering that's where all the Amish originally went to. Millersburg is a nice community as far as places go.
There's marshland on the way there. There are bird houses atop wooden poles, giant cattails, and a massive covering of lily pads. I was pleasantly surprised. This was discontinued by farmland. There's not much Amish anything when you first enter, just old homes and signs of society. It's still quaint though.
Then we leave the small town setting (sort of) passing by a random yet pristine golf course surrounded by giant houses that scream swiss architecture. We head down a road toward a town called Charm. Horses, goats, burros, and chickens galore. I'm not all that surprised by the livestock. I am surprised, however, about this restaurant called Grandma's Homestead. I get the buffet, and so does my father. All you can eat buffet and pecan pie, best food I've had in a while (and it's Amish). They had corn pudding that rivals Hollaway (or my dad's) corn pudding. My eye is killing me all the while and I bring it up once.
We stop at a cheese factory. It's not very big but the place is packed. It's here I begin to notice that I'm getting sicker. A part of me doesn't want to bring it up to my parents, but what if something happens because I don't.
I make it to Berlin. I rest in the car as my parents go inside a craft store. Windows cracked the aroma of manure and countryside wafts into my nose. There's not much to do except watch the traffic drive on by and see the shops that line the street. Purely geared toward tourists, I bet this place makes most of its income over the summer much like Block Island. Although it seems like a fairly peaceful calm place I can't imagine living here.
We then go to a surprisingly stereotypical flea market. There's everything there that you'd expect, and also Amish made goods. The last place we go to is The Amish Mennonite Heritage Center which is really just a museum for the Amish/Mennonite. As we leave to make our way back Amish are all over, they walk around, they're in their buggies, and some are working the land. There's a man with a beard resting atop a plow, his straw hat lying flat on his head. He's wearing overalls and a green plaid shirt. The scene is very majestic, like something that I'd expect to see in National Geographic. The most unlikely thing, in my opinion, are his sunglasses. To be frank, they're better than mine. My mom gave a wave as we went on by, and he waved back...
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