Nothing represents America like men with facial hair driving cars into each other at speed.  Recognizing this truth, Indiana, Pennsylvania's civic leaders wisely planned a demolition derby to celebrate Independence Day.  It was an orgiastic display of raw hydrocarbon power, a defiant showcase of our nation's willingness to take rugged individualism to its reckless extreme.  A no-rules, no-strategy expression of all the brutality implied by motor transport.  The demolition derby forsakes all notions of restraint and economy - we don't donate cars for cancer research, not in my America.  It was a beautiful spectacle.

I didn't get a chance to photograph it, but the hood of the car read "TEAM JESUS."  I'm not even kidding

We've spent our time in Pennsylvania planning for our trip in Europe and watching the Discovery Channel.  On Monday, Jenna and I worked out a loose itinerary at Caffe Amadeus, Indiana's high-end coffee shop, which is, bizarrely, outfitted in Baroque Austro-Hungarian decor and constantly filled with the symphonies of Mozart.  It's the sort of wildly unorthodox establishment that could only arise from the earnest, dedicated, and disparate passions of a true eccentric.  Indiana is lucky to have it.  The planning was not easy going, but we persevered well into the afternoon, and crossed a lot off our list.  By the time we left I think we hardly wanted to punch each other in the nose at all.

On further investigation, we decided that we aren't going to attempt the full Tour du Mont Blanc.  Primarily, it's too expensive, but I have the the additional complication of veganism.  Most hikers eat and sleep in the chalets along the trail, which serve quaint, meat-laden alpine cuisine.  Coq au vin and hot toddies being not much of a draw for me, I would have to rely on the unlikely hope that the towns along the route offer plant-based freeze-dried or vacuum-packed food.  Besides, our time in Europe is limited, and spending almost two weeks in the Alps would rob us of time elsewhere.  We're thinking of doing a four-day segment of the Tour, from Courmayeur in northern Italy to Les Houches, France.  This guy (David Preston) did this hike, in the more-favored clockwise direction, in 2003 (at age 60+).  His pictures are staggeringly beautiful, which makes me excited.

The Iceland flight worked out even better than expected.  Elysia's coupon code gave us not one, but two round-trip tickets.  We are thinking about doing a four-day hike there, Laugavegur.  It might not be possible, because we'll have to gear up for cold and wet weather (even in August), which might require packing more clothes than we'll want to schlep around continental Europe.  Additionally, our schedule leading up to the hike leaves little time to recuperate from jet-lag, and we might be exhausted.  We booked hostels in Reykjavik for the first and last nights.  If we decide not to attempt the Laugavegur, we can CouchSurf there.

Our Megabus tickets to Amsterdam and our first WWOOF stint, about 50 miles out of the city, are booked.  A 20-hour ride of guaranteed misery will convey us to the land of wooden shoes and lax social mores after we spend a week with my aunt and uncle in Edinburgh.  Our next hurdle is finding a CouchSurfer to host us for a few days in Amsterdam proper - we've sent out a few requests, and as yet have no replies.

I spent much of the day yesterday making cashew cheese, a massive food-science undertaking, and considerably expensive to boot.  My efforts yielded a really decent product, however, and I'm pleased overall.  The difficulty and price were both affected by my choice - utterly confusing, in retrospect - to make about two pounds of "cheese," half of which went immediately into the freezer.

It's one thing to recognize that traditional macho-masculinity is a fraud, and another thing entirely to be able to accept that, on a day some men are wrecking cars into each other, you fucked up the process of homemade non-dairy cheese.