27th May (My brothers birthday - happy belated birthday David - I love ya)
I arrived at Flagstaff after a horrendous bus journey. I was exhausted almost to the point of tears, hungry, full of a cold, hayfever and feeling as sick as a dog. When I checked in at the
hostel all I wanted to do was pass out on my bed. During my free breakfast (bless hostels that do that!) I got chatting to Phil and Dave, two British guys who had hire car. An hour later I was in their jeep and heading off to the Grand Canyon !!!!
The GC definately has the wow factor. For miles you see nothing at all and then all of a sudden there is a huge gash in the earth (call me think - many do - but until a couple of weeks ago I thought I would have to look
up to see the GC !!!!). It's unreal, my brain couldn't quite take it in, it felt like I could reach out and I would find myself touchin a canvas painting. It is beyond huge, a mile deep, stripes of multi-coloured soils, foliage, glints of water here and there. Phil and I walked down part of the Bright Angel Trail into the canyon, we zig zagged back and forth for a couple of hours, in awe of the depth and just how small it made us feel. The amazing thing was the silence, it was eerie in a place so vast and ruggedly beautiful. We met up with Gary again and drove to various look out points trying to see as much as possible. The sun had started to set by this point and there was a stunning silvery haze over the jagged peaks. As we drove back the exhaustion kicked in again - tired but happy !
The Grand Canyon Internation Hostel is friendly, fun, clean and right in the middle of the town. I'm glad I'm here for four days. It's also close to the bars - which means it can get very very noisy at night, plus this is Memorial Day Weekend so it will go ballistic for the next couple of nights, but that is the only down side to this place, I highly recommend it and many nights its not like that. A train track cuts the town in two just up the road from the hostel, all hours of the day and night you can hear the train and its horn (do you call it horn on a train ?), that noise is actually kind of fun !
Saturday was a chill out day, I've sent postcards, written my journal, been shopping, chatted to the staff (crazy the lot of them, and huge fun - one of them is from Buxton and his brother owns the bike store on the high street in New Mills - for those not in the know, New Mills is my home town and Buxton is up the road !) and other visitors. I met a friendly guuy calle Bill in the post office, he bought me coffee and we chatted for an hour in the attractive Heritage Square, we talked healthcare, spirituality, hiking, hopefully I'm going to join him for a day trip before I leave.
You can tell I am doing my own thing food wise. I've decended to the level of bags of plain bagels ( no filling) for lunch, trail mix, pot noodles (or a version of) for dinner, eating enough free breakfast for two people in order to keep down the food bills ! I'm a true traveller now - I'll be dumpstering next !!!!
Santa Fe - can't remember the dates off hand but it was last monday to thursday !!!
The ride from Dallas to Santa Fe had my bus travel change for the better over night. The view from the bus window became that which you imagine to see on a US road trip. A dead straight road that goes for miles without so much as a kink. Initially at the sides the the plains were wide and predominantly flat, then little hills started to crop up more often as we got closer to the mountains. Then there's the mountains themselves - like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. You can see their snow capped outline seemingly at the end of the road. My travelling companion to Santa Fe was Megan, a sweet young woman who had spent a lot of time in Asia and was fluent in Thai. We eat Indian food together at a small town called Raton - it seemed a rather random experience! She checked out the scenery through her binoculars and I had my breath taken away as the mountains got closer. It was like entering the pages of National Geographic.
Amanda and sarah - Jane (friends I had met at Edinburgh Festival last year) live in the most beautiful little cottage, mulit colours/photos/art/funky objects, fill every available space - it is so sweet and homey - I love it. They welcomed me in like old friends, not someone they had met for half an hour a year ago.
Being in Santa Fe is like being in a different country -well I guess it's not called New Mexico for nothing. It's pretty, the streets are winding and full of flowers growing up walls. The houses are single storey and all are terracotta with bright coloured window frames and doors. Apparently it is a city full of artists and has quite a big queer community. I'm also told that it is a city of extremes as there are a huge number of millionaries, but it is also a very poor area.
It was a relaxing couple of days, drinking coffee, visiting little art galleries, cathedrals and churches. On wednesday I managed to impress myself with my cycling skills. I'm nervous of cycling in traffic at the best of times, even in the UK, but I decided to borrow Amanda's bike and cycle part way up the mountains and from there go hiking. I set off, getting off to cross the major roads like a pedestrian, once in the hills I could cycle for prolongued periods of time. The altitude effected me a little, I'm not the fittest person around, but neither am I unhealthy, however I ended up with the lungs of a 90 year old for the first hour - things did improve though and with the sun beating down and sweat streaming down my back (nice!) I had a great time. I hiked along the Dale Ball trails and into the mountains, following trails randomly and talking aloud to myself about Shakespeare, an odd sight if anyone had come across me. The scenery is unlike anything else I have seen before - rolling hills of shrubbery and dry, red sandy ground, snow capped mountains in the back ground. The only thing that brough me off the mountain after lunch was the fear of de-hydration. I'd taken a lot of water but it wasn't enough. I cycled back to town but this time my confidence grew and before I knew it I was cycling along major roads, navigating the filter systems and the like - all on the
wrong side of the road ! Boy was I chuffed with myself whan I got back ! I've come to the conclusion that I am going to try cycling into university when I get back home. If I can do it here I can certainly do it there. In the evening I met up with Megan, my Greyhound companion, it turned out that she was staying at her grandmothers just round the corner - it's a small world !
On Thursday Amanda, her sister Liz, Sarah-Jane and I headed out to Tent Rocks - the guide book says:
Tent Rocks formed over a 100,000 year period nearly 7 million years back. Ever since, the forces of erosion have scoured the area, pushing back the canyon walls and exposing the tents, tee-pee shaped formations of volcanic debris.
It was incredible, I've never seen such drastic, but artistic (if that's possible) effects of nature so close. They're beautiful, despite this being part of an essentially destructive process. Photos to follow for sure. It was my final day in Santa Fe (my bus was due to depart at 1.05am) but we crammed everything in. I got my head shaved (think GI Jane - hats now required to avoid burning my head - I do occassionally wonder just how short I'll beable to go as a teacher!), visited Megan for an hour, drank margharitas at Willy's Blues Bar with Amanda, and then went to see
Nomy Lamm at Backroad Pizza.
"She famously describes herself as "badass, fatass dyke amputee", she's queer - she's fat and she's got a prosthetic leg, and she uses direct honesty about all those things to confront all our internally entrenched prejudices about body image and anti-queer bias and mysogyny". I was expecting an evening of politics, anger, generally hard work and difficult thought. Instead she sang sweet songs with the most amazing voice, played the accordian, made us do vocal exercises and sing along at the end. It was a fun evening to end my stay in Santa Fe.
Fun in the fountains - Dallas
Dallas in the back ground, the farmers market out front
John, David and myself - my Dallas companions
Kate and Willy - My Houston hosts
19th - 22nd May. Dallas, Texas.
Dallas was another fun weekend, not unlike that spent in Alabama. I was staying with David and John, the brother of Laurie, and just as with his sister there was no need for a period of awkward pleasantries and polite conversation, we got straight on with the business of getting to know one another and enjoying each other's company. After a shower and a cold beer on the deck we went for dinner at a Turkish restaurant and talked travel. The temperature was still, to my mind and English flesh, high when we got back and the ice cold night cap with John was more than welcome.
The true house owners are Bubba, Igor, Black Cat, Tucker and Lucky (I hope that's right). All are rescue cats and 3 legged Tucker is the elder statesman of the group, Lucky the energetic kitten is fondly referred to as squirt and its impossible not to fall in love with them all. A family of raccoons would join us on the decking each night and even go in the house to steal the cat food and water. This was a real novelty to me and I kept expecting David Attenborough to appear at any moment!
On Friday David drove me to Fort Worth, we ate Cajun food at one of those restaurants where the décor is as loud as the music and all the waitresses are 17 years old, blonde and called Cindy or Lacey ! David left for work and I made my way to the Stockyards for a real cowboy experience. It's just as you'd imagine, general stores, wooden decks outside shops selling cowboy boots and saddles. It has a little of the Disney feel to it but it was fun. I was there for the cattle drive, where longhorns were led through the street to auction by horse riding cowboys. That evening John took me to Gloria's an El Salvadorian restaurant and then onto Tillman's Corner, their 'local' where all the staff know them both and asked after David. They were a fun crowd and John was, as always, great company.
Saturday started at a farmers market, artistically displayed fruit and veg, furniture brought from Mexico, plants, all had the backdrop of the Dallas skyline. We were offered watermelons, mangos, strawberries etc in an attempt to get us to part with our cash. I willingly accepted their food - a fruit salad breakfast on the go ! The array of plants seemed to stretch for miles, I loved walking through the shade of the displays with the water sprinklers keeping my feet cool. John then took me to downtown Dallas (past the grassy knoll where JFK was shot) to a wonderful fountain. In a shaded area by an office block, columns of water danced in hundreds of formations, the choreography was different every time, I certainly couldn't identify any that were repeated. A few small children took the chance to cool off and ran through the spray, sometimes attempting to dodge the water as it shot through the holes in the ground, sometimes purposefully charging through the densest part of the water. It reminded me of the classic photos of children playing in water from fire hydrants. We sat there for over an hour, laughing at and with the kids, simply relaxing. We collected David and ate lunch at Veracruz café, visited Ifs and Butts that had the most remarkable selection of soda drinks I have ever seen. From there to the air conditioned cool of a cinema to see the latest Star Wars movie. There was no stopping us and after a quick trip home to shower and change we went to El Ranchito for Mexican food. It's a lively, family friendly and extremely popular restaurant. Tables are squeezed into every available space and 2 Mariachi bands compete for attention. It has to be experienced for the barrage of sounds if nothing else. On to Tillman's Corner where I was treated like just as much of a regular as John and David. It was wonderful to hear David chatting away in fluent Spanish. However it also puts me to shame, as despite spending 6 years of my school life learning German I am now barely capable of asking for directions ! That has to change. Next stop Brooklyns for live Jazz. It had been a full, tiring, but extremely enjoyable day. My 2 hosts, who are both capable of taking generosity to a new level, have treated me like royalty. Already we are talking of travelling together, an opportunity that I would welcome with open arms.
Sunday we took relaxation to extremes. The temperature had gone through the roof and we lounged around on the deck talking, reading and fussing over the cats. We returned to Gloria's for lunch but then made our way straight back to the hammock at the house. The day was rounded off with the grill (although no flame throwing this time) and talk of the possibility of meeting up again before I leave the US. Then it was time to leave for my 11.30pm bus to Santa Fe. I hate goodbyes and they never get easier, so I tend to keep them as short as possible. At least this time there is a realistic chance of meeting up with David and John again. I really hope so.
On my first night in Houston I found myself in the comapny of John Wayne ! Kate and Willy, My hosts had taken me out to diner at a charming Mexican restaurant that claims to have invented the fahita ! (although more significant to me was that I experienced my first frozen margharita - is anyone is struggling with life this is a reason to keep going !) We ended up in the studios of the production company that Willy works at while he did some late night editing of a rap video for an artists called Bodeiga. It turns out that John Wayne is alive and well, living in Houston, producing music videos, and he's blac ! There was no sign of his horse.
Houston was very indulgent in a 'KP' kind of way. Tuesday consisted entirely of bookshops and coffee shops - bliss. In one coffee shop, Diedrich Coffee, a very sweet member of staff came over to my table and gave me a gift of a bagel and pots of peanut butter and jelly, "I did some travelling in England and I really missed this". See what I mean about kindness over here !
I had a hard time resisting the urge to leave the stores with a bag of new books, but there's no point in carrying them around, plus I've been reading books donated by hosts (reading list to date: Irma Kurtz - The Great American Bus Ride; Bill Bryson - The Mother Tonge; Nicola Griffith - Blue Planet; Marion Keyes - Last Chanec Saloon; Fr. Robert Arpin - Fearfully, Wonderfully Made. Eclectic huh !). Another restuarant that evening, Vietnamese this time, and then a wonderfully cheesy movie at the cinema - 'Kicking and Screaming'.
I mooched around Glenwood cemetary on wednesday morning. A beautiful place with ancient trees making it a cool (literally) place to spend some contemplative time. I always find myself drawn to large cemetarys on my travels. I'm not 100% sure why, but I always enjoy the guaranteed peace and the idea of being surrounded by so many persoanl histories.
Kate and I explored the Menil Collection, a gallery of superb surrealist work and a beautifully light and well designed building. Next came the
Rothko Chapel, a meditative space for people of all faiths. I found myself drawn into the work of Mark Rothko that adornes the walls. It is a simple, calm, restive environment. I long for one of those in my own neighbourhood. Kate then took me on a driving tour of some of the different neighbourhoods.
Project Row Houses is a street of shotgun houses (one of the possible reasons for this name is that if you open the front and back door you can shoot a gun straight through the house) that have been turned into artists spaces. They were closed for the day but by peering through the window and with Kate's stories of teaching art to high school students I could tell that they were wonderful places to take children and light that artistic spark that we all have within us. Round the corner from there I had another one of those experiences that leaves me with a smile on my face and reminds me of what wonderful memories I will have of this trip. Cleveland Turner, also known as the Flower Pot man, was, to quote him, 'on skid row, a wino'. Drink nearly killed him but he was helped off the streets and found the life to start over. His little yellow house is a crazy vibrant place. Junk fills every inch of the garden, all of it bright colours and lots of fun. Childrens toys (some broken, some whole), multi coloured furniture, trophys, there is a full sized red and white cow on the roof, chicken runs in the back. He's growing peanuts ; "I'll have enough to see me through the winter", black eyes peas, mustard seeds have been planted. Childrens play mats and stuffed toys are attached to a large tree in the corner of the yard. It's over 20 years since he had a drink, instead choosing to focus his energies on this wonderful display of the possibilities of recycling and proving that the simplist idea can turn junk into art. He invited Kate and I inside (rushing off to put on a t-shirt and put in his teeth). Inside there is more of the same only more ordered. I asked if he minded if I took photos "of course not, you make me feel special". I promised to send him a copy of the photo so he could place it in his gallery pf newspaper clippings and snapshots of him and his wonderland. We went home, fetched WIlly and headed out to El Pueblito Place for Guatamalen food ( my diet is truly international), with more frozen margheritas of course. From there to Brazil, a trendy coffee shop, that had fabulous live jazz and a very indulgent carrot cake.
Kate and Willy are such good, fun company. There is never any sense of pressure when they are around and it is impossible to do anything other than relax when at their home (despite the crazy antics of Sophie, the amazing licking dog). Willy plays in a band, the
Blue Runners and I was introduced to their cajun misic and given a gift of a couple of their cds. Kate, whos impressive photography adornes the walls of the house, started a nursing course this week. It was lovely to be around someone who has the same combination of nerves and excitement that I will be experiencing in September. On my final night I made the mistake of allowing Snickers the cate to join me. She pads and paws and purrs, and despite beng an absolute cutie I wasn't too sorry when she chose to leave !
The next stop was Dallas, following coffee and a much more reasonable ( at 5 hours) bus journey.
The bus ride from Huntsville, Alabama to Houston was the worst yet. It started with tears (I try to act tough but don't be fooled, I'm as soppy as they come). but Laurie did send me on my way with a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts which went some way to helping. The first leg of the 18 hour journey had me sat next to a woman who opened a can of Pepsi all over me and then seemed to be under the impression that half my seat should be devoted to her luggage and the duvet she had with her. Later in the night she swapped seats with her large male friend - he had the worst case of 'builders bum' I have ever seen and it's even more disturbing when it's backing towards you in the half light of the evening. I'm not entirely convinced it wasn't the 'crack' that said 'hello' to me as it sat next to me, it was that animated. The moment the bus drove out of Huntsville a small child sat immediately behind me started crying and didn't stop for 2 whole hours. It was that horrid snotty whingy crying that kids do when they're just fed up and want attention. Attempting to bribe him with a Krispy Kreme doughnut made no difference. I was less interested in helping when I heard the father saying "I don't need this shit, stop it now, you sound like a girl. I thought I had a son not a girl". Keep it up kid, I'm putting my headphones on!! Talking of which, I have done well over 60 hours of bus travel with the same 13 tracks on my MP3 player ! It's time I got some of my hosts to download some music for me before I lose my mind. To top it all off the bus driver left her purse in Lake Charles coach station, we were an hour away when she realised but she still turned back, and, she never even apologised! That was the point at which I was ready to kill. Greyhound travel has finally lost its charm (not that it had that much in the first place). where's my credit card ? I feel the need to hire a large SUV and turn this into a real road trip !
Fabulous graffiti in Atlanta
Angie and Elin enjoying the sun (Atlanta)
The Lake at the Hostel in the Forest.
Yours truly and Laurie (Alabama)
The English adventurer, and Lake Guntersville.
The Inverted House - Houston
Albertville, Northern Alabama, 12th - 15th May.
Many of the people I have met on my travels to date raised their eyebrows when I said I was going to Alabama. Well you can all lower them now - I had a ball!
I knew I was going to get along fine with Laurie when she met me at the bus station with a gift - of anti-itching cream for my bites !! As a result my stay with her began with laughter and pretty much remained that way throughout. Laurie is the most fun, spirited, beautiful (inside and out), intelligent individual. She put so much thought into entertaining me - her fabulous 'to-do-card' became a running joke.
Food has continued to be a theme of the south. Laurie was determined that I would continue to experience American and/or Southern specialities: Hash browns, Waffle House coffee (surprisingly good), cajun boiled peanuts, blue berry bagels, more of the wonderful biscuits this time with Segum (is that right L?), squash, Krispy Kreme doughnuts, plantain, various fish the names of which escape me (for heavens sake, age is destroying my brain cells !). I am going to be the size of a house. Also, on more than one occassion Laurie's cooking did result in an attempt to bburn down the neighbourhood with her flame throwing grill, the food was characteristically superb despite the risk to life and limb in the process of creation.
On friday we walked the trails be Lake Guntersville with the extremely handsome and well behaved Luke (no I haven't 'turned', Luke is a 6 month old Golden Retriever and wasn't he well behaved ?!! Laurie can take the concept of the proud pet owner to new levels !). We ate the finest hamburgers I have experienced whilst looking out across the lake. We wandered through the campsite - the owners of the caravans / RV's are remarkable. It seems they empty the entire contents of their home and take it with them, regular furniture, lamps and rugs, giant stoves, flags, rope lights. To my mind that kind of activity is about leaving your home behind - escaping for a little while. But I guess 'whatever floats your boat'.
Also, there are no small cars in this part of the world. Everybody drives huge trucks and SUV's. A Mini Cooper would look like a freak show on wheels if it was driven through this area. Everyone, from the 17 year old who has just passed his driving test, to your 90 year old grannie drives a vehicle that could carry 3 horses in the back. Cycling is not something you partake in around here, sadly, as its a beautiful part of the world.
I could have happily spent days at the Lake just hanging out, walking, talking. I have had wonderful conversations with Laurie, about travel, politics, literature, education, religion, relationships, you name it - it came up. The conversations about religion have been . to my surprise, the ones that have interested me the most. Laurie is as far removed as you can get from the streotype of a southern religious fanatic. She is passionate about her faith, open minded, gentle in her approach to the subject, fascinated by other people's ideas and opinions, and spiritual on so many levels. I don't know if she realised it but she opened my mind and set me thinking about so many things which i know I will mull over as my journey continues, it is a dialogue I hope to continue with her. If anything my time spent in her company has given my journey an additional level, a different dimension.
Friday evening we drove to Birmingham and ate at Bahama Breeze and went to 22nd Street Jazz Club. The music was less jazz and moew blues/country, not that it mattered. The band was lively and amusing, the bass player apparently stoned, the drummer good with the humour and the very talented pianist, who didn't even seem old enough to drink, had remarkably large hands (he's going to make someone very happy, and no doubt himself too !!!).
Laurie's navigating skills are ideally suited to hosting guests from out of town, She can give you a driving tour of an entire area without even trying (junctions are entirely optional). Even the journey from Krispy Kream to the bus station in the last hour of my stay was impressively diverted. Mind you, she was not in anyway responsible for the fact that it took us 3 attempts to get into the jazz club. The architect was clearly a fan of rabbit warrens, that or an architect was in no way involved, and there lies the problem!
The Albertville home is shared withLuke, the most laid back pup I have ever come across; Dan , a Basset Hound with eyes that turn you to mush and, if he so desires, he has a career as a draft excuder in the bag. Then there's yoda, this is a dog with 5 legs ! I swear he would ipregnate a table leg if sheer determination were allowed to play a part in the forces of nature !
The most significant part of Laurie's life is her son, Chad. A handsome, strapping, courteous, 18 year old who drives one of those monster trucks (the only car I've ever been responsible for was a battered Ford Fiesta called William. It was eventually found burned out - it had taken me a whole weekend to even realise it was missing, that's how switched on I was!). The plan had been for him to take us night time bow fishing on his boat (yep, shooting them with arrows!). Sadly the threat of storms put an end to that - not that we would have let him kill anything in our presence. Another time hopefully.
The Trade Fair (and I was up at 6.30am for this experience - my mother will be in shock), brought me face to face with all the character that fall into the southern streotype, it was like walking through a movie set. These are peoplewho own guns like I own a pair of spectacles - its an extension of self. Everything from chickens to knives to goats, to peanuts were on sale. We avoided the far end of the plot of land, that was where single animals were being sold for cock fights and dog fights, we didn't need to see that. Apparently (because I go through life oblivious to these things) my tattoo attracted an incredible amount of attention. Laurie took great pleasure in people nudging their friends and pointing me out. I'm often disappointed by my lack of awareness, I quite enjoy a bit of attention!
OK, I have to tell you a story about my Alabama hostess, it tells you all you need to know about her. During a 'Walk for Jesus' event the local sherif madde a public address, within this he made various homophobic comments. Most people, no matter how shocked, would grumble to their friends but do nothing. Not Laurie. She marched up to him, tore strips off him, making it very clear that he was out of order and being incredibly unchristian. I know very few people, particularly someone who is not gay themselves, who would be this proactive. I told you she was something special.
I arrived in New Orleans very early tuesday morning and negotiated the city's public transport to Gillian's flat east of the city. A quick chat and then off to explore the French Quarter. The side streets are charming and the architecture exactly that you see on postcards, lacy iron railings on over-hanging balconys, cute or downright weird shops with ornate signs hanging over the streets. Live music plays from the early hours, I've been catching up on my required quota of jazz. Its so hot I feel like I'm being cooked - but its not unexpected and I love it, I'm enjoying the fact that the good weather is almost guaranteed and I need never leave 'home' with a jacket.
My accent and tattoo are, as ever, attracting an 'interesting' assortment of people; a horse drawn carriage driving musician told me all about his upcoming European tour, a drunk gay guy revealed extremely intimate details and offered to marry me so I could have an American passport. Body art is popular here and my unusual tattoo gains plenty of attention.
I've eaten the local speciality, Muffalettas - created in 1906 by the owner of the Central Grocery Store (from where I bought mine), it has ham, salami, provolone, a relish of olives, capers, carrots, garlic, celery, pimento, bits of cauliflower and olive oil. Delicious but messy. Accompanied by Barq's root beer and sat looking over the Misissippi river, perfect. I, of course, had to have cafe au lait and beignets (light, square shaped doughnuts dusted with icing sugar), at Cafe Du Monde, a New Orleans institution.
I've opted for a slower pace in New orleans, but whether thats through choice or the weight of the belly I'm developing, I'm not entirely sure !!
Gillian has been a very kind and generous host. A phd student at Tulane University, studying medical ethics, I stayed in her cosy university apartment. I'm loving this way of travellng. I don't think I'll ever want to stay in a hotel again, its the people that I'll cherish the most from this trip.
On the first evening Gillian and her friend Liz took me to Frankie and Johnny's for dinner and then onto a cigar bar for drinks. The second night started off with champagne, delivered pizza and a dvd. An hour later we were whisked off to Muriels, an extremely classy restaurant on the corner of Jackson Square. Here we continued with champagne and I was given a tour of the building, a former plantation owner's mansion. It is a building of extremes. In one section you can see the marks on the brick wallthat indicate where the bunks that held the slaves were secured. A ludicrous number of people were forced into bunks no more than a foot above one another. Huge numbers died in the building. Upstairs rwo rooms had been transformed into the most rich, decadent parlours. Great swathes of red and gold velvet luxurious curtains divided the rooms, art work from various centuries were decoratively framed. Dozens of plush cushions were scattered on leather sofas. Red and yellow lighting cast an exotic glow. It was like entering into another world. Unsurprisingly the building is reported to be full of ghosts. Sadly they kept quiet while I was there. It was quite a night to end my visit to New Orleans.
Sunday 8th May I set off from Atlanta on the ever interesting Greyhound, my first day time drive and I thought it would be nice to actually see something through the window. I saw plenty but mainly from of location. The bus broke down between Twin City and Statesborough, Georgia, in a small town called Portal 'The Turpentine City' to quote the poster, but if you can call a gas station, a grocery store and about 5 houses a city then someone somewhere has redefined things !!! We were there for 5 hours ! Fortunately there were only about 12 of us and everyone was nice enough. Two elderly ladies discussed the fashion of two lads on the bus.
-I don't understand why those boys wear their pants so low
-they look so bad, so bad
-they walk like they got shackles on their legs so they can keep them up
-disgusting
-dreadful
-I'm glad my son is a man and he don't do that
They were lovely women who chatted away about everything from heroin to bus engines (about which they knew a surprising amount!). When we got to Savannah one of the elderly women (she must have been about 80 years old) was met by members of her family, only to be told that her daughter had died that morning. It quickly put a lot of things into perspective.
I finally arrived in Brunswick at midnight and was met by the manager of the Hostel in the forest , Matthew. When we got out of the truck I was led in the darknessalong a path in the forest. I could barely see in order to follow him. My room was in the lower half of a two story tree house. The cockroaches the size of my thumb that I had seen running all over the laundry room freaked me out but I was soon asleep. The next morning I woke with sunlight streaming in through the mesh that replaced walls and a full view of the forest at the end of the bed. The sounds of birds, various other critters and a bongo drum had woken me at about 9am.
It really was a magical place, tree houses, wooden domes, a beautiful lake filled with fish, a wooden and glass meditation/yoga dome by a smaller lake, a meditation maze, a pool, sweat dome, vegetable garden. I had become so used to cities that the lack of traffic and the general hub-bub of urban life took some getting used to.
Monday afternoon I showered in the open, on a small decking surrounded by forest and swamps on all sides. It was the best shower I have ever taken. There was no need to towel off, the incredible heat dried you almost immediately.
I found myself pulling Madison, a 33 year old man, along on a small truck in order to save the strain on his knees that had been damaged in a motorcycle accident. We fectched apples from his car and then ate them dipped in caramel sauce and listened to Neil Young tracks.
Its a beautiful place (although I'm not a fan of the snakes and lizards) and I took plenty of photos, the only other thing I took with me when I left was hundreds of mosquito bites, I'm covered in the damn things and it looks horrendous. Poeple are going to start crssing the road. Ah well, had to happen at some point.
Will tell you all about New Orleans next time.
Hugs to all xxx
its not uncommon for people to go to the hostel and not leave for several months, I can understand how that can happen.
I've had various responses to my travelling by Greyhound, they range from "you're so brave, I could never do that", to "fucking hell, are you crazy?". This is something the travel agent neglected to mention !!!
I'll fill you in on Brunswick next time, but to give you a preview ....the bus broke down for 5 hours in the middle of nowhere .......mozzies have eaten me alive ......I showered in the swamp .......
OK, gonna be typing this thing quickly so forgive any major typos !!!
Thursday night I travelled to Atlanta, where I stayed with one of the sweetest couples I have ever had the pleasure to meet. I was put in touch with Elin and Angie by a Chicago friend, and although when I left the UK I wasn't sure I would stop off in Atlanta I am SO glad I did. Elin and Angie had never heard of me two weeks ago, but they made me feel so welcome in their beautiful home.
When I arrived Elin pointed me in the direction of 'Thumbs Up' a fabulous diner where I experienced my first serving of 'grits', hmm, ok but I won't be trying to replicte it at home !!!I was advised by a guy in the diner to go to an art exhibition being held at a private home up the road. This trip is all about saying yes to that kind of thing, so after a quick trip round the Martin Luther King Memorial I headed to 'Made in the shade'. A beautiful garden was filled with all sorts of quircky art work, photography, sculpture, textiles, pottery, jewellery, iron work. Jazz played in the back ground, water trickled from fountins and I listened to the strong southern accents of the other visitors. Every section of the garden was turne into an artistic haven, it was one of the most beautiful things I have seen.
I was having coffee later when I realied, the elections have been going on back in England !!!! My dad is voting by proxy for me so my bit has been done, its incredible how far away from things like that I feel ! Am I pleased with the result ? Well lets just say it wasn't unexpected .
Friday evening Elin and Angie took me out for a meal and we went for drinks in various funky neighbourhoods, saw a fantastic exhibition of work by Cartoon Network artists, discovered that they have drive through ATM's (cash machines for those back home) - I'm also told you can find drive in liquor stores - give me a break ! The three of us talked and talked and it was a wonderful evening.
Saturday: after brunch at the 'Flying Biscuit' - where I became a devoted fan of the southern biscuit we headed over to Piedmont park where the UK took on the US in a game of Boci (I think its called, kind of like boules), I can't remember who won but for the sake of argument lets say it was the UK !!!! That evening took us to a bbq int he neighbourhood where I was introduced to the sticky delight that is schmores (no idea how you spell it, but its marshmallow cooked over an open fire then sandwiched, with chocolate between biscuits), no wonder its an american institution. It was a fun night where the conversation went from politics, to travel tovomiting in your hands and concealing it in your coat pocket (not me by the way), it was a classy evening !
I loved what I saw of Atlanta, but would recommend visiting if you know people to show you around.
Angie, a committed and passionate Buddhist will probably be in the UK for a festival later this year, I'm hoping we'll be able to hook up. Either way these are two special people I'm keen to meet up with again.
Hmm, I need to figure out that photo thing, but hey, at least there's a couple on here now !!!
Oh, in Atlanta at present, then to Hostel in Forest, Brunswick - Georgia. In New orleans for Tuesday and I'll blog more from there. Having a fab time.
I am due to leave Washington in a couple of hours and I want to say 'Thank you' to Guillaume, who was my host. He couldn't have been more helpful, not only giving me advice but taking me out for an evening and providing me with great company. He gave me the run of his flat and made me feel at home. Cheers Guillaume, you're a star X
"We hope you have a memorable experience", the guide stepped back and the lift doors closed. When they re-opened we were confronted with a huge, graphic photo. The effect was to silence the giggling, flippant school kids that I had shared the lift with. I was in the
Holocaust museum here in DC, the word 'memorable' isn't enough to describe the lasting impact. It is one of the most powerful and well thought through exhibitions I have ever seen. Nothing is hidden from you - you are faced with some of the most gruesome, detailed images of the seemingly endless atrocities, all of which I believe it is essential that we see. There is nothing more disturbing than mans inhumanity to man and everyone should be made to take a close loo at some of the videos and photos on display and hear the voices of those who survived. It might go someway to trying to change the world in which we live.
The Holocaust Museum has an interesting backdrop in the form of Washingotn DC. A city filled with reminders of war/death/brutality. It doesn't feel like the various memorials are simply that - a way of remembering the past, but an attempt to convince the country of its own greatness (although I think this is largely because of the huge numbers of statues etc). Yesterday evening I happened across the 'Twilight Tattoo'. For those of you familiar with the
Edinburgh Tattoo forget it. This was like a west end show combined with Pop Idol in military uniforms !!! An utterly unsubtle event that had the hundreds of school children and American tourists screaming and cheering. It, sadly, came across as a desperate, ill conceived attempt to glamorise war and convince people that America is worth dying for (18 year olds were on stage saying as much!). Those in uniform were so young and enthusiatic, I found myself wondering if they might make better soldiers if they all went to University and got a history degree. Although it's more likely that youth and ignorance will make them the ideal soldiers for a country with the US's foreign policy. It's such a strong (and Disney-like) contrast to the America I have been seeing in the company of my friends and hosts. DC is like a bizarre theme park - I'm actually quite glad of this as it means that its 'unrealness' does nothing to diminish the positive, friendly, generous, exciting experiences I have had thus far.
On a 'professional' note, and from the stand point of someone with an MA in Cultural Policy and Management, I have never seen such well designed and executed museums and galleries as those I have visited in DC. The needs of both the work/exhibitions and those of the visitor have been taken into account. There is a massive amount of information for the visitor to take in, but there are plenty of opportunites for you to find the peace and quiet needed to consider all that you have taken on board. OK - essay over !!
I have to admit I'm having to do some pondering on why I'm here, making this trip. Right now I don't think I can answer that. I seemed to have reached this strange point where it has hit home that I'm not heading back to the UK for another 10 weeks and this isn't an ordinary holiday. It requires a completely different mind set and use of time. Don't get me wrong, this is an amazing experience, but it involves much more emotional and mental work than I had realised. Is it simply about getting to know more about a country I've always had an interest in ? Meeting new people ? Escaping everyday life ? Following my own 3 month long American dream ? Finding myself (I hate that expression, it sounds so schmaltzy!)? Challenging myself? Proving a point to others? I'm not sure. I'm also not sure if I actually have to be able to answer that question. Maybe I'm just homesick (the horror of admitting that if it is true!). Maybe I should stop thinking so much ! Maybe I should just get drunk !
Washington DC: I'm staying in an amazing location with a french guy, Guillaume. The flat is literally 10 minutes walk from the White House, and has a pool on the roof along with spectacular views !!!! Guillaume is a really nice guy and a fabulous host, pointing me in the right direction and taking me out for an evening.
This is a strange place in many ways. When I went to the White House end of the Mall I was being directed all over the place by police. Soldiers were wandering around the park (one of them shouted to the other 'George Dubya's comin in by helicopter' - I never saw it/him nor did I want to, whatever he's got might be catching !) There is a strange feeling of fear and paranoia here, I'm sure that's not the intended impression the powers that be are trying to get across. Its noticable that almost all the memorials are to do with war and violence. There's no real sense of looking to the future or pondering on the more positive aspects of American history.
I have never seen so many runners within one area, this city appears to be pretty healthy if nothing else !
Last night Guillaume took me to the famous 'Madam's Organ' in the Adam's Morgan area of the city (get it ?!). A pretty stunning bar on 5 crazy floors. Everything you can think of hangs from the ceilings and adorns the walls of the dark rooms, live blues/blue grass music was being played by a guitar and harmonica duo and the beer was served in incredible glasses that looked like jam jars with handles - screw lines and everything. If I'd been near the end of the trip I would have swiped a few for my cupboards !
Here I am in Washington DC, after about an hours sleep I needed coffee, lots of it and a shower, I'm almost human again! (You can tell I'm adapting to my surroundings, as I got off the bus this morning I found myself muttering-I'm English don't forget, I'd never shout-'get outta my fuckin way ya idiot' and attempted to shove someone out of the way with my backpack - I'm so proud of myself !!!!!!)
I won't talk about DC yet, instead my visit to Uncle Johnny's - Tennessee:
My first Greyhound ride was relatively uneventful, they're basic, uncomfortable and full of loud people (until they exhaust themselves and the lull of the bus sends them to sleep). It seems the trick to Greyhound travel is anonymity, be as scruffy as possible, avoid all eye contact and pretend to be asleep when you pull into stations, worked for me. I find it amusing that a 'refreshment stop' consists of pulling up at a Burger King or McDonalds, no wonder some of the passengers can hardly fit into their seats - I assume they travel this way regularly !
I was met a Johnston City by Charlotte, wife of Uncle Johnny, a friendly face, she filled me in on our destination as we rattled along the highway. I expected to be in awe of the mountains but I have to say they have nothing on the Lake District in the UK. Back home as I head north from my home into the Lake's and the scenery changes I get goose bumps, they are such poweful awe-inspiring craggy monsters, here its much gentler. I was staying in the cutest of cabins (photos to follow - eventually-I promise), of course it houses the obligatory tv, although it only received two channels and I knew better than to expect to get 'Showtime' and receive my fill of sunday night L Word! Not that TV was what this bit of the Trip was about, so it remained off .... most of the time.
On my first night I was talked into going to the 'Rivers Edge', a BBQ restaurant over looking the Devil's Looking Glass on the Nolichucky River, where if it stands still for long enough they stick it over flames and transfer it to your plate. It would be very difficult to be vegetarian on this trip. The live music was a mixture of Apalachian/country and blue grass. Debbie a 'true mountain woman and hill billy' to quote her partner Skip, an ex art dealer ( who left the industry for some of the same reasons I left the theatre)filled me in on the area and the ways of the Apalachian Trail. What I hadn't realised until I got here was that I was to be surrounded by true hikers, most of them spending 6 months walking 2,100 miles. I'm impressed at what they are doing, I know I don't have it in me. I was told about 'Trail Magic', the generosity that can be found on the Trail. For example, there are a group of people who drove a camper van to the top of one of the hills, set up tents, a fire, and provided for tired and hungry walkers when they got to that point at no charge.
My favourite tale of the night was about Erwin, the small town a mile away from the hostel (not quite 'blink and you'll miss it' but not far off. Apparently its famous for being the town that hung an elephant ! The circus was in town and the elephant trampled someone to death (it had done this before so had done quite well to get that far). They held a trial - I'm not kidding - and the elephant was found guilty so they decided to hang it from a crane. First time round they tried using chains, but they snapped and the elephant fell, breaking all its legs, second time round cable of some kind was used and that worked. Anyone got the number for the RSPCA ?
Next day I 'slack packed' 11 miles of the trail (so called because you're a 'slacker' for getting a lift to a certain point and then walking back, I love it, I'm going to take the phrase back to England). I was nervous at having no map, compass, first aid kit, waterproofs etc etc, as it turns out I didn't need them. The trail is so well marked you'd have to be an idiot not to be able to figure out where you were going. I was dropped off at Spivey Gap by Tongue Tied (everyone gets Trail names) and spent the day on a wooded path, gaining comments about my speed when I returned (4 and a half hours, although I wasn't that impressed with myself, it was an easy route).
All of the people I've met have been fantastic. Sweet Sixteen is a fabulous 62 year old woman with silver hair and a glint in her eyes. She'd planned on walking for only a month and being picked up from Uncle Johnny's by her husband, but she was enjoying it so much she was going to keep going for another month. Ellie and Libby filled me in on the gruesome, personal conversations that go on between strangers who are sharing the trail for periods of time (apparently bonding occurs quite quickly when discussing toilet activities !). I was told about Dutchman who set off on the AT with a 105lb pack full of tinned goods. It rained, everything got wet and the labels fell off. Everytime he ate he had to guess what he would be having for dinner ! Fortunately some trail magic folk took pity on him and drove some of his tins further up the route for him. There are people with name such as, Mudbutt/Strider/thirsty/Slip & Slide/Catfish/Wookie. All had interesting tales and made sitting out on the deck a great experience as people stopped by for a chat and a drink.
I spent more time chatting to Skip and Debbie and ended up with my first political discussion, lets just say Skip is as far right as I am left !!! I had to do an awful lot of head nodding and 'ah-ha'ing. I didn't see what could be gained from getting rattled and attempting to thump an ex-military man! He's actually a really nice guy, we're just miles apart on the political spectrum. The most memorable question was 'are you a feminist by any chance?' erm... lets think about that one. There's a definate sense of 'America is in the right no matter what and everyone else should thank us'. I'm sorry ? Can we go over that again ?
I have found it quite unnerving to be away from e-mail and voice-mail. One of the highlights of leaving the UK was switching my mobile off and leaving it in a drawer. But not even having e-mail was quite difficult to cope with, didn't think I'd be like that. I'm rather disappointed in myself !
Hey Annika, I met another Honda Element owner - we have been discussing Element stories, betcha proud !!!
A couple of 'shout outs' to Chicago:
George: 'Love ya Georgie', thank you for giving me the chance to go to Chicago - if it wasn't for you I would never have made it to such an amazing place
Danielle: You're a star, I know I've found a new friend.
Annika: You were right about that manditory tearful Greyhound ride, but I felt like you were there with me for every mile and I couldn't have asked for better company.
Marianna: A great dancer and sweet company, a great guitarist too!
Meredith: It was lovely meeting you, shame we didn't get more time together.
Karyn: I hope you're fully recovered, hopefully the next time I'm in town you'll be up to full speed.
Kelly, Mira, Katy: So glad I met you all, I owe John a huge 'thank-you'. Don't think you've seen the last of me !!!
