I'm not sure why I go on exhaustion-therapy. Do I do that to entertain myself or to provide entertainment for freedom-loving fun-loving dogs of this area? Seriously.
First time I tried to counter my psychological exhaustion of our orientation marathon by way of physical exhaustion, I was chased by loose dogs whose owners didn't feel like restraining them within the perimeter of their home. And although I enjoyed the nature, the stress of being chased by dogs, didn't let me really de-stress. All the while, the obsession about what happened to my advisor wouldn't leave me alone. Yet, I committed myself to another round of exhaustion-therapy before beginning my second semester at SIU.
And being certain that I would be chased by dogs didn't hinder me. Returning from Toledo made me even more depressed as I found myself in the same boring small-town isolated from everything and everywhere. People tell me that it's OK to live in a small town and you can visit bigger cities to have a change. Well, not a good solution for somebody who has grown up in a megacity and for better or worse is used to urban life. And contrasting this to my good time in my hometown, Toledo, made me feel worse when I returned (even though Toledo is much smaller than Tehran). Anyway.
This time, I chose Little Grand Canyon for my exhaustion-therapy. And I happened to pass by what I would call a dog farm. There were numerous dogs of various breeds in that farm who expressed their warm regards from afar, while trying to make it more personal. Fortunately, there was a fence keeping those enthusiastic greeters from running to the road.
And in addition to lovely canine fellows on my way there and back, Little Grand Canyon is home to some unsavory creatures as well: copperhead, cottonmouth and timber rattler. Yet, I was not much concerned that some of these creepy fellows might get sleepless and be added to my usual canine greeters. But as I got down the winding hilly country roads, I realized that there was something else that I had not accounted for at all.
Form time to time, I could hear gunshots. Yes, hunting. And thinking about the outgoing vice-president, I felt like this one could be a more serious concern; if somebody trying to pin down a low-flying game, aimed his gun too low, he couldn't see me from behind the dense vegetation separating the road from the country and well, my exhaustion-therapy could end up eternal. Quite a relaxing experience, eh?
After some adrenaline-producing relaxation, I reached my destination. Well, it was worth the physical exhaustion (and stress, while passing through the hunting zone en route). You could enjoy the gorgeous view of bluffs, canyons, the Big Muddy River and also Mississippi Valley in the distance. For some time, I could just imagine I was climbing the mountains to the north of Tehran. And it was so relaxing. That's the essence of exhaustion-therapy. Oddly enough, I didn't feel like taking photographs of all that gorgeous scenary (although I had brought my camera exactly for that matter). I wonder why.
On my way back, I was riding through Shawnee Hills Wine Trail. There are numerous wineries in this area and I had seen the road signs on my way to Little Grand Canyon. Although as a Muslim, I have no personal interest in wine, I have always been curious to see how a traditional winery looks like. I'm interested in anything old-fashioned (even be it winery). And well, there's the engineer inside me, always fascinated about learning new things, in this case contrasting the traditional way of making wine to the industrial way.
I dropped by one of the wineries. The owner offered me free samples, which I had to decline (as politely as I could). I'm not sure what would have he thought about somebody coming to a winery without taking a free sample. Then, I asked him to show me his wine-making stuff. To my surprise, the equipment were not traditional at all (the way I had seen in photos from old wineries in France and Italy), though his process was more or less traditional. And he was very patient answering my detailed technical questions, elaborating all the minute differences between his way of wine-making and how it's done in modern industrial facilities.
And when he asked about my major at school, he found it even more surprising for a sociologist to ask so many detailed technical questions. He had assumed that I must be a student of chemistry or something like that. I told him that I was an electrical engineer before coming to the US and given my interest in chemistry, I was somehow familiar/interested in chemical processes as well. I guess he had not had such an odd visitor for quite some time.
My engineering interests in the winery kept me there for a longer time that I had planned and when I left, it was almost sunset. And I was relying on a shortcut route on my biking map to get to US-51. But it turned out that the shortcut route existed only on the map (which was old). So, I had to continue on the hilly country roads.
When I was in Iran, although I loved forests, I would not had thought of biking at night amid such a wilderness. But now, here I was amid Shawnee Forest, nearly pitch dark on a bike, 15 miles away from home. Usually when I bike on country roads, I wish no cars drive by so that I can enjoy the nature without distraction. But now, whenever a car passed by, I felt like: well, I'm not completely alone amid this wilderness (I had my light, which was pretty good, but anyway).
There aren't any bears or big wild animals in this area (not that I know). But passing by hamlets, I would be greeted by dogs occasionally. In one instance, a dog darted out of its home to the road, barking and panting at the same time while showing its teeth. That's not a welcoming gesture in dog world. My experience with previous canine well-wishers had taught me that if you direct your light at their eyes, that would discourage them. But this one would stop momentarily and whenever I directed my light back to the road (which was uphill), it resumed its charging course. Fortunately, a car appeared from the opposite direction and the combination of its headlights and speed, made my not-so-friendly escort back away. The rest of the dogs on my way where not as persistent as this one, but you wouldn't know.
When I landed in Southern Illinois this August, I thought that I could make my life enjoyable by biking in the country roads, as I did in Ohio all the time. And I was never ever chased by a dog back there. But I had no idea that exhaustion-therapy might not be as relaxing and refreshing here as it was back in Ohio. Here, you can enjoy country roads as long as you own a car.
First time I tried to counter my psychological exhaustion of our orientation marathon by way of physical exhaustion, I was chased by loose dogs whose owners didn't feel like restraining them within the perimeter of their home. And although I enjoyed the nature, the stress of being chased by dogs, didn't let me really de-stress. All the while, the obsession about what happened to my advisor wouldn't leave me alone. Yet, I committed myself to another round of exhaustion-therapy before beginning my second semester at SIU.
And being certain that I would be chased by dogs didn't hinder me. Returning from Toledo made me even more depressed as I found myself in the same boring small-town isolated from everything and everywhere. People tell me that it's OK to live in a small town and you can visit bigger cities to have a change. Well, not a good solution for somebody who has grown up in a megacity and for better or worse is used to urban life. And contrasting this to my good time in my hometown, Toledo, made me feel worse when I returned (even though Toledo is much smaller than Tehran). Anyway.
This time, I chose Little Grand Canyon for my exhaustion-therapy. And I happened to pass by what I would call a dog farm. There were numerous dogs of various breeds in that farm who expressed their warm regards from afar, while trying to make it more personal. Fortunately, there was a fence keeping those enthusiastic greeters from running to the road.
And in addition to lovely canine fellows on my way there and back, Little Grand Canyon is home to some unsavory creatures as well: copperhead, cottonmouth and timber rattler. Yet, I was not much concerned that some of these creepy fellows might get sleepless and be added to my usual canine greeters. But as I got down the winding hilly country roads, I realized that there was something else that I had not accounted for at all.
Form time to time, I could hear gunshots. Yes, hunting. And thinking about the outgoing vice-president, I felt like this one could be a more serious concern; if somebody trying to pin down a low-flying game, aimed his gun too low, he couldn't see me from behind the dense vegetation separating the road from the country and well, my exhaustion-therapy could end up eternal. Quite a relaxing experience, eh?
After some adrenaline-producing relaxation, I reached my destination. Well, it was worth the physical exhaustion (and stress, while passing through the hunting zone en route). You could enjoy the gorgeous view of bluffs, canyons, the Big Muddy River and also Mississippi Valley in the distance. For some time, I could just imagine I was climbing the mountains to the north of Tehran. And it was so relaxing. That's the essence of exhaustion-therapy. Oddly enough, I didn't feel like taking photographs of all that gorgeous scenary (although I had brought my camera exactly for that matter). I wonder why.
On my way back, I was riding through Shawnee Hills Wine Trail. There are numerous wineries in this area and I had seen the road signs on my way to Little Grand Canyon. Although as a Muslim, I have no personal interest in wine, I have always been curious to see how a traditional winery looks like. I'm interested in anything old-fashioned (even be it winery). And well, there's the engineer inside me, always fascinated about learning new things, in this case contrasting the traditional way of making wine to the industrial way.
I dropped by one of the wineries. The owner offered me free samples, which I had to decline (as politely as I could). I'm not sure what would have he thought about somebody coming to a winery without taking a free sample. Then, I asked him to show me his wine-making stuff. To my surprise, the equipment were not traditional at all (the way I had seen in photos from old wineries in France and Italy), though his process was more or less traditional. And he was very patient answering my detailed technical questions, elaborating all the minute differences between his way of wine-making and how it's done in modern industrial facilities.
And when he asked about my major at school, he found it even more surprising for a sociologist to ask so many detailed technical questions. He had assumed that I must be a student of chemistry or something like that. I told him that I was an electrical engineer before coming to the US and given my interest in chemistry, I was somehow familiar/interested in chemical processes as well. I guess he had not had such an odd visitor for quite some time.
My engineering interests in the winery kept me there for a longer time that I had planned and when I left, it was almost sunset. And I was relying on a shortcut route on my biking map to get to US-51. But it turned out that the shortcut route existed only on the map (which was old). So, I had to continue on the hilly country roads.
When I was in Iran, although I loved forests, I would not had thought of biking at night amid such a wilderness. But now, here I was amid Shawnee Forest, nearly pitch dark on a bike, 15 miles away from home. Usually when I bike on country roads, I wish no cars drive by so that I can enjoy the nature without distraction. But now, whenever a car passed by, I felt like: well, I'm not completely alone amid this wilderness (I had my light, which was pretty good, but anyway).
There aren't any bears or big wild animals in this area (not that I know). But passing by hamlets, I would be greeted by dogs occasionally. In one instance, a dog darted out of its home to the road, barking and panting at the same time while showing its teeth. That's not a welcoming gesture in dog world. My experience with previous canine well-wishers had taught me that if you direct your light at their eyes, that would discourage them. But this one would stop momentarily and whenever I directed my light back to the road (which was uphill), it resumed its charging course. Fortunately, a car appeared from the opposite direction and the combination of its headlights and speed, made my not-so-friendly escort back away. The rest of the dogs on my way where not as persistent as this one, but you wouldn't know.
When I landed in Southern Illinois this August, I thought that I could make my life enjoyable by biking in the country roads, as I did in Ohio all the time. And I was never ever chased by a dog back there. But I had no idea that exhaustion-therapy might not be as relaxing and refreshing here as it was back in Ohio. Here, you can enjoy country roads as long as you own a car.
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