19th -21st Sept
Go on. Have a snigger and get it out of your system. It IS a funny name, but honestly isn’t the reason that we used this as our base to visit Amish country…yeah, right.
It seems an odd name for a place that is home to a devoutly religious community. It is was originally called Cross Keys, and renamed in 1814. There are 3 main theories why:
- There was originally a race course at one end of the town, the entrance of which was referred to as ‘enter course’. This might have gradually changed to Intercourse
- The town is at an intersection, or ‘intercourse’ of several important roads.
- The term ‘intercourse’ was historically used to describe ‘fellowship’ and ‘social interaction and support’.
Whatever the reason, it’s still amusing.
The deeply religious Amish, and Mennonite, communities that live in this area are fascinating, bizarre and confusing to the modern eye. Many of them live such simple basic lives, devoid of technology and combustion engines, instantly recognisable by their clothing and headwear. Traditional gender roles are played: a hard physical day’s work in the fields is normal for the men and the women become wives, raise (lots of) children and keep the home. We didn’t see any overweight Amish. The close-knit communities sell foodstuffs like preserves, jams, cheeses and sauces, and homeware like quilts and good quality simple furniture. Light horses pull buggies around the streets (Black for the Mennonites, grey for the Amish) and mules and heavier horses pull carts, ploughs and slashers around the fields. And all this plays out surrounded by bus loads and bus loads of tourists who come to places like Intercourse to gawk at these people quietly going about there lives, minding their own business and to shop at dedicated emporiums of foodstuffs, homewares and tonnes and tonnes of tat. It seems it’s just not a day out without consuming a mega soda, a triple scoop ice-cream cone, a giant pretzel and buying a commemorative T-shirt with the logo “I ‘heart‘ INTERCOURSE”
Coming to a place like this as a tourist leaves me conflicted. I know that in many respects we are the same as the hoards that pour off the coaches, but I comforted by the fact that we are definitely better dressed and we haven’t lost the use of our legs as a transport option.
The best part of our visit here was breaking out the bikes and spending a day cruising through the back roads between the small towns and villages. Away from the main roads this is a beautiful place to cycle. There are so few cars and trucks, and the ones that are around are very used to giving wide berth to non motorised traffic. It’s just part of life here. The land is divided into one-family farms each with a large farmhouse, barn and grain silo. The men were cutting corn, dressed in shirt, slacks and their characteristic broad brimmed straw hats. (Seemingly skin cancer in the communities is very low due to this garb.) Women and children were travelling to and from school and chores on large wheeled push scooters. Girls dressed like their mothers in plain long dresses and bonnets and the boys little clones of the men.
Seeing people stubbornly carving out their existences free from modernity seems both bonkers and entirely sensible at the same time. I understand the low tech wholesome living, but struggle with the woman’s status and role in the society. Also, those dresses and bonnets are a bit too’handmaid’ for my liking.
Our bicycle journey had a destination 10 km away from camp: Lost World Mini Golf. A classic of the genre with pirate ships, waterfalls and caves. This was our second match of the trip. I omitted to write about my victory over Hampson in Nashua, NH. A victory with dignity and good sportsmanship. This day saw Hampson score two holes-in-one (Impressive), and beat me fair and square. He was insufferable. The scores are now levelled.
The 10km cycle home gave us time to reflect on the significant period of time that had elapsed since our regular bike riding of last year. This was manifest in sore ‘seat bones’. Very sore.
We don’t have any photos of any Amish people. It’s rude to take them. You can find some on-line if you are interested.
I did take a photo of this hot air balloon that passed by the campsite. It seemed to be slowly falling from the sky. I assume less trust was being put in the science of hot air being lighter than cold air.
