Like so many other times on this trip, so far, places are either closed for the season or are on shorter hours, and we simply arrive too early. This is the Ephrata Cloister in Ephrata, Pennsylvania. Conrad Beissel, a man of German descent, was Ephrata’s founder and established this corner of Pennsylvania as somewhere he felt he could live as a hermit. By the early 1750s, Beissel was no longer alone, having attracted nearly 80 others who chose the ascetic life of celibacy and self-discipline. Mark this cloister as somewhere we need to return to.
From beautiful architecture to a frightening neighborhood of row houses that have the feeling of a kind of poverty Caroline and I do not typically encounter. Mind you, we’ve been on and near skid-row in downtown Los Angeles and have witnessed poverty on more than a few Native American reservations, but something is foreboding about how people are packed into such a small area.
One can’t help but take the situation in this area and play stereotypes with assumptions, such as the idea that too many of the kids growing up in neighborhoods such as the one just above end up here in this prison. This is not the idyllic side of the area often associated with the farmlands of the Amish.
More row houses. While certainly an upgrade from the other neighborhood, these have a scuffed appearance. I would love to have seen this area in its prime when the industrial/farming economy was bustling, and these homes were brand new.
Two things are striking about this photo, first, fresh food is for people over 40, and second, the diversity in these farmer’s markets is shocking when compared to what we know from Arizona. This market was in Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania, and while we certainly didn’t leave empty-handed, we no longer know exactly what we left with (Caroline remembers apple Schnitz and a big coffee cake). We need some Amish farmers to move to Arizona; as a matter of fact, everyone in America needs some local Amish to help fill their pantries.
We can now officially claim that we’ve been to Amish country as we are witnessing our first horse-drawn buggy in traffic. The next souvenir will be the obligatory yellow “buggy crossing” sign refrigerator magnet.
Wow, a real Amish farm in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania! How do I know it’s an Amish farm, you ask? Do you see any electrical wires running to that property? There are also no signs of vehicles such as tractors out there either. The only thing missing from this scene is the horse-drawn plow with a bearded man dressed in black behind it.
This is the oldest house left standing in Lancaster County; it is the Reverend Hans Herr’s house. Hans was born in Zurich, Switzerland, in 1639 and was the first Mennonite bishop to emigrate to America. He sailed to America at 70 years old, and within ten years, his son Christian Herr built this house in 1719. What struck us about all of this is that it has been documented that at least 13,223 people were claiming to be direct lineal descendants of Hans Herr as of 1994.
The colors of fall.
Those faces should be disappointed, but we got lucky today. A wedding was getting ready to take place, but our sad story about being so far away from home and wanting to visit our first Presidential home did not fall on deaf ears. George was now our gracious and super informative guide on a quick tour of the James Buchanan home called Wheatland in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Buchanan was our 15th president, preceding Abraham Lincoln. American history for the win.
It’s just a two-state day, so it doesn’t feel like we’re working hard enough. Maryland is welcoming us.
Okay, two states and the District of Columbia! Earlier in the day, we’d decided to bypass D.C. as we figured it would be another congested version of New York City. At the last minute, we changed our minds in Baltimore and pointed the car to our nation’s capital. Our first motel was such a disaster that we asked for a refund; the next place was only 10 minutes from the White House and much better. Excited to explore this place in the morning.
