Otherlands Collaboration #26
Date: May 31, 2020 • Location: Madison County, North Carolina
The reentry to the us was a wee bit different than I imagined. Lockdowns were in full swing, and finding a flight home was a challenge with dates and routes severely limited. We finally located one that worked a of couple weeks away. Two days before leaving, I checked on the flight, thinking it both strange—but promising—that I hadn't heard anything. Well, the middle leg had been canceled. Good thing I called. (It would take four months to get this $4500 back.)
Scrambling for another flight, I found a similar option. As soon as I booked, it was cancelled. (Refund issued immediately). And so I tried again. Now the only option to get home in the near future required a stay over in Frankfurt. We grabbed it and booked a non-refundable room at the closest available hotel. And then we learned pass-through travelers like us weren't allowed to leave the airport, even for sleeping.
The whole airport scene was strange. Vacant. Eerie. I returned the rental car in an empty hotel parking lot, met by the person that owns the company who also gave me a lift to the airport. The place I had dropped my family off at—and then was dropped off to—ended up being a closed part of the airport. We lugged our bags to the next terminal and it was literally deserted and partially barricaded. Escalators were shut off. In the check-in area, there were maybe 10 people and at least 5 worked there. One flight was on the board, ours thankfully, with maybe 20 people on it.
The Frankfurt airport was also deserted. Lights were off. Every shop was closed. It was silent. We couldn't even tell if we were going the right direction. Thinking of how nice it would be to have a bed, but also hearing repeated news at Helsinki check-in that travelers couldn't leave the terminal...we decided to see what would happen if we headed towards the exit, assuming we could find it. Apparently nothing. We slept in a bed, at a deserted Hyatt. On the up side, we had a hot shower, my daughter enjoyed the requirement to order room service, and we had a nice bed...even if we all had to sleep in it—but we were used to that now.
The remaining flights and airports were equally desolate. The most excitement was hand sanitizer, our first constant mask wearing, and a line so long at the one place to get food that I didn't have the time. We had no problems actually getting into the country. All they did was take our temperature.
So what was the arrival plan? Well, we couldn’t stay with parents or friends, and our house wasn’t available. The solution was a two-week quarantine out in the woods of Madison County, North Carolina, about an hour north of our home. Ten years ago we picked up some land, and I used to joke it was where we'd go if the world went to hell.
For the last 6 years of our absence from the US, I left my truck and our hand-me-down pop-up camper at my parents place. It had lots of what we needed inside, and after sitting 6 years, also had lots of mold we didn't need. My mom, the champion, gave it the cleaning business. Thanks mom!
The camper also didn't have a current set of license plates or any working lights. But it drove just fine. That was until my dad got it stuck on a tree making a tight turn on a hill trying to deliver it into the spot. My father-in-law rescued the camper with his tractor. I wish I had been there. Two thumbs up for two dads!
My parents drove two vehicles to meet us at the airport, one was my truck. It was full of food that we ordered online while in Finland and had delivered to my folks. We had just been through multiple airports at the height of lockdowns. My parents are in a high risk group. And so after not seeing them for a year and a half, we didn't hug, opting instead to exchange smiles and tired greetings. Awkward and confusing.
And then Emmette, Molly, and I drove away. Dazed from over 24hrs of bizarre coronavirus travel and just coming off of living in 6 countries for the last 9 months, with Spain for 4 years before that. And now we had just moved home. It was like the Twilight Zone. Our dog that was going to be waiting for us had died. What we didn't have in our bags was split between two storage locations. Our renters wouldn't be out of our house for another month and a half. Gigs had disappeared. We didn't know what was next in our lives, other than this camping quarantine. My daughter had literally grown out of everything she took on the trip, and she now wore glasses. My wife played the ukulele. I had a beard. My truck, which I really missed, had a developed a funky (bad) odor—later I would discover a mouse made a nest on my inside air filter. And we were really hungry. Two places were open at this “late” US dinner hour (8p). Popeye's and McDonald's. M'erica.
But! I'd be lying though if I said I wasn't excited for this camping quarantine. It felt like a fitting way for this crazy dream of an adventure to come to an end. I hadn't been to our land for years and was ready to get to know it again…spend some time collecting thoughts.
While we were gone, my brother-in-law had built a tiny house and fittingly adorable picnic shelter across from our place. And to top that, he had just completed a bath house with hot water. He was away, so we stayed here on night one instead of setting up the camper in the dark. I think that pretty much sealed the fate of the camper and our rustic DIY outhouse. That new bathroom, and the rain, the damp camper, and the large black ants that infested the camper wall. (To be fair, I was chopping wood one day near the camper, splitting a log when ants poured out. I guess they needed a new home. Camper upgrade!)
Half the days were rainy, the other half were beautiful. And being without cell service added a weightless feeling to the experience. Along with the pre-arrival grocery order, I tossed in a new machete for myself. I cleared parts of our land and blazed trails. I picked up lots of sticks (we're in the woods, silly I know) and tended my growing tree stump collection. We went on hikes and I documented different plants in the area. We found the biggest tree on our place, an oak with a 13ft circumference among a forest of poplars and downed black locusts. The plant kingdom was in full swing. Everything was so green. Mornings were magical with fog. Lush moss was broken by fresh mushrooms. I learned what ginseng looks like in the wild. It was a glorious cacophony of bird songs at dawn and dusk (recorded them). A bird built a nest on the little ma-n'-pa porch and we watched the babies hatch. Millipedes half as thick as my finger and 4-5" long were out in numbers. Deer and owls joined the chorus. And we didn't see any bears until back in the city.
By evening we were cooking dinner back at the tiny house and trying to decide if we would wash dishes in the bathroom sink tonight or tomorrow morning. Molly and I would talk by moonlight on the little porch, even in the rain. What was about to happen in our lives, or in anybody's lives for that matter? It was almost June. What was pandemic school going to be like for Emmette? What would we do for work? Presidential elections were coming up in 6 months and the country was severely torn and hateful. And then George Floyd was murdered. Intense protests were breaking out all over the US, including our home of Asheville, and were being echoed around the world. Molly's step mother, who lives near, would arrive on an ATV wearing a covid face shield to deliver updates. And then there's the standard moving-back-in stuff to deal with. Molly and I had plenty to chat about, usually while she played the ukulele. Life was feeling surreal.
I was getting in a good bit of fiddle playing, and I changed my strings for new beginnings. The spirit of Otherlands would now have me remembering American tunes. I started playing ones I used to know and listening to fiddle albums. I thought of an old-time American jam session I went to in Cork, Ireland. They played many I didn't know so I took note. One I recalled had been recorded by a great fiddler from the this area, Rayna Gellert. So I listened to her version of Ways of the World, which felt a fitting title of a local tune to learn. And another day, probably still wondering about the future I thought of a Carter Family song, from just over the Virginia border, I Ain't Goin’ to Work Tomorrow.
While out on a hike I saw a downed tree that must have rivaled the enormous oak in its day. Most had gone back to the earth by now, but from on top of what remained of the trunk, there was a great view down our hollar. So, this final collaboration from Otherlands is one between myself and nature, or maybe the ways of the world, ushering in what the next year+ would look like.
A nice "welcome home" moment happened right as I finished playing in the woods. Molly and Emmette had come to help me with the recording. I needed the standard mics, tripods, and cameras. Since the spot was in the back corner of our property, completely uphill from our camper, the easiest way to get there was drive. My neighbor's place is way at the top, and they've a really winding long driveway that makes for easy access to this part of ours. I had to park on his property. I heard him coming up it his gigantic truck (dwarfing my midsize) so I popped out of the woods to say hello. I reintroduced myself as his neighbor, mentioning we were back quarantining after our arrival from Finland. Word travels fast on our mountain road and he already knew. Good thing he recognized my truck, he shared, otherwise he would have shot the tires out and then asked questions. It was a good reminder of the contrast to Finland's Everyman's Rights, which allows the general public the freedom to roam the countryside. M'erica.
So, this wasn't the homecoming I imagined—or even could have imagined—but it was memorable, and thankfully we've managed to stay safe through it all. I'm pretty sure that family Otherlands adventures got us trained to adapt to our current surroundings and used to all the togetherness. And in this last strange, strange year, I've done a lot of work on this project. I've listened to and watched again and again the lovely musicians who spent their time with me. I hear their excellence and see their humility and kindness. We've stayed in touch, and I genuinely feel we shared something special. I didn't know I would end up documenting musical collaborations in a pre-pandemic world. Remember when?
I think my most impactful reflection about Otherlands, because of all the amazing people, music, and places we experienced (food included in all of those), is how thankful I am we didn't wait one more year to do this.
One month back in our house, and a new dog.
CREDITS
Song: I Ain't Goin’ to Work Tomorrow / Ways of the World (Traditional / Traditional)
Music Arranged by: Casey Driessen
Fiddle/vox/audio/video : Casey Driessen
Production Assistant: Molly Driessen
Special Thanks
Emmette Driessen
Madonna Nagel
Tom, Karen & Regina Driessen
Candace, Steve & Luke Rice
Melanie Rice, Nate Penland & Ezra Ray Adams Penland