Chicago to New York

I awoke before my alarm scared me awake so I got up and moving before I changed my mind.
I was on the street and rolling towards Adams station by 6:30 and caught the orange line train to Midway Airport at 6:49.

At the airport it was the usual check in, go through security and sit and wait for boarding – some things never change.

Having boarded the plane – I had a window seat this time, and a slim attractive blonde young lady sitting next to me, so it was almost an exact opposite of my flight to Chicago.

The young lady asked me where I was from after she heard me ordering my drink from the flight attendant. I asked her to guess – and she got it wrong! Anyway, it was the start of a conversation. She had travelled around Europe quite a bit and rated London as her most favourite city in the world! As her husband is “in the military” (I asked no questions) she had spent a few years in Germany (no, I did not say “as part of another occupying force”) and they had travelled around Germany and its surrounding countries – so she knew Europe existed and where it was. One of her ambitions was to travel from London to Paris through the Chunnel (she knew that exists too)! I told her about my travels and where I was up to in my itinerary, which she seemed very impressed with and thought I was very cool to be doing it. (This helped the ego rather although I always keep it on a very short leash as I do not suffer from delusions of grandeur or believe I can only be harmed by kryptonite!)

This was a really great way of passing a two hour flight – which cost me three hours due to another time zone crossing – as before we knew it the captain was announcing our final approach to La Guardia. I had a view of this sprawling urban mass on the ground which just seemed to get bigger as we got nearer – and then we were landing in the middle of it! First impressions: New York is big – really big – in fact huge!

Having landed we said farewell to each other and I went in search of my luggage.

There are a few stressful times I suffer in travelling:
1. Making sure I get to the airport/station/terminal on time
2. Ensuring I am on the right plane/train/boat
3. Wondering whether the bastards have lost my checked in luggage or sent it to some distant part of the world

This time it was number 3 which caused me grief. After waiting half an hour for my bag I was beginning to hatch some concern. Yes, I had double checked that I was waiting at the correct carousel for the baggage from the flight I was on. I felt a little better when other people from the same flight were beginning to look anxious and annoyed and check their watches a lot. After three quarters of an hour a small glut of baggage was vomited onto the carousel. Mine was in the second issuing and a huge wave of relief washed over me.

I decided to celebrate with a cigarette and headed outside. This has a dual purpose, other than shortening my life, because it is there one can locate taxis and busses. Having established there is no direct Subway connection to La Guardia it was down to bus or taxi. I accosted a man lounging down by the exit door with a ticket machine slung over his shoulder and asked him about the shuttle busses which ran from the sign nearby. According to the sign a one way trip to Manhattan would cost me $12. The man was far more helpful than the sign as he asked me where in Manhattan I needed to go (it is rather big you see) and when I showed him the hostel address I had written down he said “Ah, come with me” and lead me back inside the terminal building and took me to the information desk. He told the guy behind the desk where I needed to go and said “this guy will help you” and went back to lounge by his sign. I thanked him for his assistance and the guy behind the desk told me where to go for the M60 bus (M = Manhattan, Q = Queens, etc) and said tell the driver you want 103rd and he will let you know. All very helpful people so far – New York was impressing me on arrival.

The bus cost $2 and covered a 33 Km journey into uptown Manhattan. At the end of the line the bus driver got off the bus with me (it was his break before turnaround) and pointed over the street saying “This is Broadway, the next block over is Amsterdam, make a right and the hostel is two blocks down.” Bloody marvellous, I didn’t even tell him I was looking for the hostel just 103rd Street. I thanked him very much and he said “You’re welcome. Enjoy your stay in New York.” Well so far the myth that New Yorkers were rude unhelpful bastards was totally null and void in my opinion so far. I came here with an open mind anyway and so far I was pleasantly pleased.

I found the hostel – right were the bus driver said it would be – and checked in.

Having dumped all my stuff I ventured out for my usual orientation walk and to find something to eat as I hadn’t all day and was very hungry.

It is true that one can eat anything one desires 24 hours a day in New York – whatever you want: Mexican, Indian, Chinese, Sushi, Italian, etc, etc, for the whole world cuisine. If it isn’t on ones doorstep one can have it delivered as there will be a 24 hour version of one of the above. The only problem I had was being understood. Once you have stopped laughing dear reader it is because of my accent – that is what two vendors told me anyway “sorry sir, I couldn’t get your accent”. This doubly proves the fact that English is the second most popular language in America – Spanish is the first. In fact I have heard more Spanish here than I did in Spain!
Anyway, having managed to acquire food and some damn fine coffee by translation of English into gibberish (in my opinion) I returned to the hostel for an early night in order to be refreshed and ready to take my first bite from the Big Apple.

As it was still rather early I thought I would ring my brother. I had just purchased a new ‘phone card and thought I would ring him first so we actually got to finish a conversation instead of getting cut off. This I duly did and during the following two hours I spoke to him and all the family.

All in all I would say my first impressions of New York were good.

I slept soundly.

Chicago – Day 9

I awoke to aching feet this morning. I am not going to let that stop me watching the Magnificent Mile lights though. I found the source of pain in one of my feet – a blood blister! After I had finished showering I sat on the floor, with the shower still going, and exorcised the beast. When I got out and dried off the pain had receded to a dull ache. I can cope with that, so I am still on for some further foot abuse.

I had a walk out to Portillos – that is an eating place not a slimy Tory – to enjoy a Chicago dog. According to the notice board, and various people, this is where the best are to be had. They were indeed rather good – so much so I had two! In doing this I managed to locate the Hard Rock Cafe and thought I would return to it after the festivities.

The Chicago Police Department and the Traffic Management Authority did a superb job in shutting down all the streets intersecting with Michigan Avenue and only causing minor chaos – the best method of transportation was definitely foot!

The parade started on time – of course – as the one thing Americans do know how to do well is put on a show. I have to admit the last time I saw the Southend torchlight procession (about three years ago) it consisted of half a dozen people with flashlights – or a close equivalent. This was a totally different kettle of light bulbs. The parade lasted a good fifty minutes and every float was lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree. There was an over prevalence of Disney characters for my liking, but the children in the crowd seemed to like them. I have to say the whole thing was a wonderful experience, there was a real family party atmosphere to the proceedings and the Mag Mile was packed. Although, being a short-arse I didn’t see, or rather couldn’t see, all the floats in their entirety most of them featured elevated platforms with various performers on them and everyone got in the spirit of it. I was glad I stayed to see it because the little effort it took was worth the experience. I have to say I had a thoroughly good time. I didn’t get close enough to see the fireworks on the ground, but the ones up in the air were most spectacular.

As I stayed at the beck of the crowd I was quick enough to depart and get clear of the main crowd who seemed to head for the shops – which of course were still open! This enabled me to get seated at the Hard Rock Cafe in order to indulge myself in some good music, beer and food. Another bonus to this was on entering the place – it contained another Holy Relic! I have included a photograph – not very good I’m afraid as, with everything else on display at HRCs, it was behind a sheet of Perspex. However, what you are viewing is the black custom Les Paul used by God Past at the Fillmore East gigs in 1968. Due homage was paid and a small group of people were wondering what I was gazing at in reverence until they read the sign under it – this instantly prompted comments of “Awesome!” “Fuckin’-A!” “Check it out!” and “Ow Wow!” It restored my faith in youth to know that these were versed in the art of good pioneering and ageless music. All praise to God Past who lead the way and showed so many the path!

Having eaten and drunk my fill, which took rather a long time because I kept being distracted by the good music videos they always play, I eventually left – after having a good look round at all the other memorabilia – and headed for Millennium Park. I also wanted to take a look at Buckingham Fountain to see what it looked like illuminated.

Millennium Park was superb as all the trees had lights strewn through them and the skating rink was lit up and full of skating people. The whole atmosphere was wonderful and I just basked in it as I observed Chicago after dark. The chrome lozenge was particularly spectacular at night and the picture I have included does not do it justice but does give a flavour of what it was like – please feel free to use imagination to enhance the image.

Having passed through the park I headed out to Buckingham Fountain. This was rather a disappointment as it was dark and dry! There must be pictures of it, both in daylight and illuminated, on the net (both types are available in postcards) so I will leave it to you dear reader to find one if you want.

I headed back to the hostel saying farewell to Chicago whose vibe and atmosphere I had enjoyed. I would definitely put it on my recommended places to visit list.

Having ensured all my luggage was sorted and ready to go I set my alarm – just in case – and fell in to bed.

Chicago - Day 8

Well, it appeared to work as I awoke refreshed and ready to go. Having got some breakfast I headed for Adams station (out of hostel and turn left on Wabash Street) which gives me access to the green line. I had studied the map and decided to take the train rather than the bus because I could get off at Garfield and walk through Washington Park in order to get to the Museum of Science and Industry (hereafter known as “the museum”).

I got onto the platform and immediately a green line train pulled in – I took this to be a good omen and got on. The elevated railway in Chicago is quite amazing as it is at second storey height and just goes where it needs to go. I imagine the town planners just said “Gee, we need to put a public transit system in here so let’s just put stilts in the ground and put a railroad on top of it.” If so, it worked and still works!

I got off at Garfield and walked down the road to the park. Washington Park is big, green and lovely. I found I had made a miscalculation on the distance though because after walking through the park I then found myself on the campus of Chicago University – well one of them – and this one was centred on their medical training and consisted of two hospitals and loads of specialised faculties; e.g. radiotherapy, radiology, microbiology, etc. – you get the drift. Having come through the campus I found myself in the surrounding suburbs which contained some lovely properties and some beautiful suburban streets.

My sense of direction told me I was heading in the right direction but I did resort to the map in order to verify I was correct. I was, but still had a way to go.

I got to the museum later than I intended because it was further from the station than I thought – perhaps I should have taken the bus.

The museum has a wonderful Star Wars exhibition on at the moment entitled “Where imagination and science meet”. Of course I had to visit this! Admission was timed so I had two hours to explore the rest of the museum before immersing myself in The Force.

There was a wonderful recreation of an 1920’s street – yes complete with uneven cobble stones to torture the feet! I had a leisurely stroll round this and then looked at the “coal exhibit” where they had recreated a coal mine. As this was the oil & coal hall they had The Spirit of America on display – Geoff Breedlove’s land speed record jet powered car – it was almost as impressive as Bluebird!

The rail exhibits were quite interesting (more stuff appealing to the boy in me) including the 999 locomotive which was the first to break the 100 mph barrier. The thing which would have scared the poo out of me would be stopping the thing once it was going that fast!

Well the time had come, the Force was with me and I entered the hallowed exhibition.

I have to say it was superb. Not only did it have tons of stuff used in the movies it was interspersed with links to current day science and technology and loads of practical experiments one could do in order to learn about the science behind it. One of the experiments was to build a small scale MagLev train and send it up a track.

[MagLev being MAGnetic LEVitation as is being developed very seriously by the Japanese to provide a rail link between Osaka and Tokyo. It is envisioned that it will be possible to attain speeds of 700 mph using this technology. Remember the usual British stupidity with technology and the lack of foresight and investment – classic example being the transistor – because the first commercial MagLev train ran from Birmingham New Street to the NEC until it was replaced with a slower standard set of rails!]

I digress, as usual, the exhibition was full of children looking at the exhibits saying “Yeah great” and then heading for the practical experiments. It was the older fossils like me and the Dads who were gazing at the models and costumes reliving their times as an X-Wing pilot or flying the Millennium Falcon.

There were a few things exhibited that I knew nothing about, probably because Star Wars, to me, was only episodes 4-6 – the real Star Wars. I did see episode 1 – The Phantom Rip-Off – and never bothered watching episodes 2 and 3. The first one was such a disappointing, predictable, pedestrian, cash-in load of crap I didn’t dare see any more for fear of spoiling my enjoyment of the original trilogy. It just appeared to be a good marketing ploy for selling loads of action figures and other commercial merchandise. I could be wrong but I think it would have been more honest to have used the donkey out of Shrek rather than that stupid Jar Jar Binks character. Back to the exhibition.

It was certainly refreshing to see so many children all having a go at the practical experiments and learning through having fun – so much so that I granted all of them a stay of execution!
Having seen everything there was to see I moved on through the inevitable merchandising area marvelling at just how much paraphernalia and rubbish can be moved by sticking a Star Wars label on it – quite a lot of it was so expensive too!

I wanted to see the U-505 exhibit, which, as it says on the tin, stared U-505 itself. This was the U-boat captured by the Americans and fractionalised out of all proportion by Hollywood – as usual.

The presentation was pretty good and as long as one realises the Yanks won WW2 and the British just “assisted a bit” then one is fine. I put the heavy stars and stripes filter on, gritted my teeth and ventured in. The vessel itself is most impressive and I proceeded to read every bit of detail about it – so much so that a very nice security guy told me that the museum was closing in five minutes and asked me if I would mind making my way to an exit. (Now where have I heard that before?)

Having emerged from the exit I got straight on a number 10 bus – which was waiting in the bus bay – and got off in State Street, just about right for hitting B&B again. A couple of the waitresses said “hello” when I went in (I had obviously charmed them with my accent) and I even got a free desert – a very nice slice of pumpkin pie. (This was offered to me and deliberately omitted from “the check”.) I was quite touched – and even left a tip.

I hobbled back to the hostel as I had managed to re-create the aching in my feet and the pulling in my shin and was looking forward to getting my shoes & socks off.

I checked my emails to ensure there wasn’t any alteration or deviation to my bookings for Sunday – there weren’t – so I treated myself to a game of Supreme Commander and headed for bed.

My feet will be better in the morning, I’m sure.

Chicago - Day 7

I had a nice gentle start to the day as I had slept very well. The day was bright and clear, and when I hit the street – very cold. The wind in the Windy City provides a hefty wind chill factor!
I had a walk down to Caribou Coffee and got myself a large latte.

My feet still ached like buggery (well I assume buggery aches or hurts in some way, but never having tried it I cannot speak with any knowledge or authority) and it felt like I had strained or pulled a muscle in my right shin. I put it down to all the walking, standing and foot tapping of the day before.

I had a limp down to Millennium Park again and sat and drank my coffee. It was also quite fun to watch the park security staff whizzing about on their little electric stand up scooters. I was also most impressed to see a paramedic patrolling on his push bike. Another thing I must mention is the cleanliness of Chicago in general. As there is at least one – usually two – litter bins (or trash cans) on every street corner (yes I do mean EVERY street corner) there is absolutely no excuse for littering, which is a disgusting and lazy practice and one which I would be quite happy for the police to use wildly excessive force in the enforcement of. Another point to note is that eating and drinking is prohibited on CTA trains (water seems to be an exception) so the carriages are not filled with partially eaten McMurders human waste (or equivalent) like some of the Underground trains I have been on. One thing you have to admire about the Yanks is their pride in their country and the care they take in and over their local neighbourhoods. I have noticed this everywhere I have been so far not just Chicago.

Having finished my coffee I decided to postpone my visit to the Museum of Science and Industry until tomorrow because:

1. Time had crept on and I wanted to be there as close to 10:00 (when all the museums seem to open) as possible
2. My feet still ached and my shin was causing me pain

I limped back to the hostel and proceeded to catch up on these blog entries and book my accommodation in and passage to New York.

I also took advantage of the “down time” to back up my laptop as I have quite a lot of photographs stored on it now as well as these slices of literary delight (yes, I am taking the piss).
I limped round to the bar/restaurant which seems to have become my “local” for some food – B&B on State Street – and then decided to have an early night and rest my poor aching limbs.

Tomorrow I will be refreshed and attempt to get my feet aching again.

Chicago - Day 6

As it was a nice bright sunny day I thought I would stroll through Millennium Park, past the Buckingham Fountain and head for the Field Museum. At present they have two exhibitions on: Maps (Know your place in the word) and Darwin (the story of evolution) so I would like to check those out. I have included a picture of a posing squirrel just for "aaah" value.

Having armed myself with a Caribou Coffee I had a lovely leisurely stroll to the museum. Buckingham Fountain was dry when I went past it and it was crawling with people fitting all manner of lights and stuff to it. This activity is all in preparation for the big light festival and “switch on” which takes place on Saturday. I have extended my stay so I can watch it and now head for New York on Sunday.

I took some photographs of the Chicago skyline from the steps of the museum and came to the conclusion that it is a rather nice skyline for a modern and developing city. Well that is my opinion – others may vary, and they are entitled to.

The Field Museum basically took all my day – as anyone who knows me will not be surprised. Give me a museum and I will be occupied for the day – well until they throw me out!

The map exhibition was really interesting and detailed the creation of and development in map making through the ages. There were loads of examples dating back to some of the earliest maps ever made. I was fascinated. I did help a couple of Americans find London on an old map of Britain – it was old enough not to have Southend on it (it hadn’t been invented at that time).
I had a break for something to eat and then started on the Darwin exhibition.

This too was fascinating and had quite a lot of items from his personal effects. I was so engrossed in it I didn’t notice the time until a very polite security guy reminded me that the museum was shutting in five minutes. I told you I’d get thrown out!

I got back to the hostel cleaned up a bit and then headed off out again.

I was heading for Kingston Mines – a blues bar – for a dose of Chicago Blues! A short walk round to State Street and onto Jackson station, take the red line to Fullerton station. Turn right out of the station, walk down the road turn left and walk along the road until one sees Kingston Mines – its symbol is a big yellow sun with a smiling face in it. It was as simple as that.

The place is a large bar divided in two, each side containing a stage (well raised platform) with everything set up for two bands. When I first got there about nine o’clock it was virtually empty, however, within the next hour the place filled up rapidly in time for the first band to start at ten. First up were The Jimmy Burns Blues Band. Well, if you like blues (and I do) then this is the place for you. If you don’t like blues – stay away! Jimmy Burns is an old black guy (am I allowed to say that?) who is obviously a bit of a local celebrity, and rightly so. The band were tight and superb, I just grinned the whole way through their first set.

Following this was a mass exodus into the other half of the bar where Andre Taylor and The Blues Alley Cats started their first set. Yet again this band was superb and I just kept grinning.
Kingston Mines is a brilliant place, not only is it a bar with blues being played live one can get food in it and smoke – oh joy. It also proved that with an effective air conditioning system it need not get “obscured by clouds” and make one’s eyes water – the music will do that – the only thing they don’t allow is cigar smoking.

The bands play alternate half-hour-ish sets (slight overruns are allowed as no one is going to stop some awesome blues half way through and live) with the crowd flowing back and forth like a large human tide. If one doesn’t want to stand in a crowd and be in the same room as the live performance, no matter. In either side are large TV screens which show the currently live stage, so if one wants to just sit back with a beer and relax in a near empty bar – no problem. The music can be heard quite clearly and be seen clearly on one of several large screens. Could this be utopia?

I heard the bands play two sets each and then started getting paranoid about getting back “because the trains might stop running” and so I left at 1:00 am. This was a totally unfounded and, in hindsight, rather stupid notion as I wasn’t in England where the last train/bus/tube stops at 11:30 or midnight if you’re lucky. The red and blue line trains run 24 hours a day and just get slightly less frequent after 2:00 am – they only run every 15 minutes then!

I just reversed my journey and crept into the hostel about 1:30. I was probably still grinning when I fell asleep.

Chicago - Day 5

I had a very slow start to today as I didn’t wake up until 10:00 – don’t ask me why, I don’t know.

However, once showered and dressed I hit the streets and made straight for the Post Office!
I have great pleasure in announcing: “the postcards have been posted!” Good job I had my credit card with me, and thankfully the stamps were self adhesive.

After that I headed for Sears Tower, having purchased a reduced price ticket from the hostel. (Word of advice for anyone staying in hostels and wanting to visit local attractions, etc.: always check with the hostel front desk to see if they have discount tickets – they often do.) The trip takes off with a video presentation on how the tower was conceived and constructed. This was most interesting and in fact the Sears Tower still remains the tallest building in the USA. The observation deck is about four floors from the top, but still above every other building in Chicago, but one isn’t going to split hairs. The whole floor is devoted to seeing the sights and the only complaint I have is that some of the windows were a little dirty! (This is done rather tongue in cheek as I wouldn’t like to clean them, or even attempt it! Poo falling from that height could kill people!) As I was strolling around taking some photographs a lovely Japanese lady asked me if I would take her picture (she was on her own so not in “invasion mode”) to which I replied “Sure”. She was very pleased with the result and asked if I wanted her to take my picture. I wasn’t going to bother at first, but then I thought of Spank, so I let him out of my backpack. The result is shown above. I thanked the young lady and she was quite taken with Spank. Having let him out it was a bit of a struggle getting him back in as he kept leaping about everywhere. He seemed most taken with the height as he couldn’t remember ever being up a tree this high, or anywhere near this high, without some illegal loggers coming and cutting it down and thus making him homeless. He would have fared reasonably well on the streets of Chicago though as it appears the preferred method of begging is to shake a drinks cup at passers-by and not bother with any banter. I’m sure Spank could manage that. (Hmmm, evil thought on the making of money and the exploitation of animals is coming into my head... oh bugger it’s already been done – it is called a circus.)

Having departed the Sears Tower I thought I would head for the MCA (Museum of Contemporary Art) as it was offering free admission until the 14th in celebration of its 40th Anniversary.

I equipped myself with a Caribou Coffee (the best I have found in Chicago so far – still not better than Serous Coffee) headed for Michigan Avenue and as I approached it down Madison I saw ahead the Millennium Park so I thought I would check it out. Wow, what a wonderful park, and what a wonderful atmosphere it had to it – it just felt friendly as soon as I entered it. It is extremely well tended and contains this amazing structure (see photograph) on the AT&T Plaza. One can see the reflected skyline of Chicago in it from all angles and the whole thing just looks so pleasing – well it did to me and from some of the comments I heard from the people around it did to them too. I sat in the sun just soaking up the atmosphere whilst I finished my coffee and then had a closer look at this amazing “lozenge”. After looking around the park I decided I had better get a move on and see this museum, so I resumed my trek down Michigan Avenue.

The Museum of Contemporary Art is just up Chicago Avenue off of Michigan. I was also pleased to see the “Sympathy for the Devil” exhibition was still on and headed for that first. This is an exhibition which centres on the rock and roll influences of art – cue Andy Warhol – and has some really interesting and imaginative pieces. There was one piece I almost wept at as it consisted of a four by four metre floor area covered in vinyl records! I had to walk across them to continue round the gallery and it was painful for me to do so! (Plenty of other people had already done so, so the records were scratched to buggery – it was just sacrilege in my eyes.)
The rest of the museum contained some very interesting and thought provoking installations one of note was “The other Vietnam memorial” which consisted of twelve four metre high metal panels hinged like a big book copper anodised and containing a list of three million names representing all the Vietnamese innocents who died in that war. Seeing this representation of a disgusting waste of life certainly brought home the scale of the tragedy – I found it quite moving.

There was a load of crap in the museum as one might guess with it being “contemporary” – a stack of different coloured plastic builders’ buckets being one example – but also some very cleaver pieces, especially the wire structures by Alexander Calder (of the Flamingo sculpture fame) which look like simple mobiles until one views their shadows and the way they move on the wall – I was quite fascinated.

I curtailed my visit to the museum due to:- aching feet, extreme hunger and there only being half an hour to closing time.

I set off up the road and diverted off of Michigan as I knew there weren’t any restraints along it – only expensive hotels and shops selling designer rubbish. I found a lovely restaurant and satisfied my hunger before waddling back to the hostel.

I got myself a coffee and planned my assault on tomorrow – I think the Field Museum will get my attention. Having decided what I was going to be doing I headed for bed in order to rest my aching feet.

Chicago - Day 4

I awoke refreshed and in time for breakfast, yes this hostel also supplies breakfast. Having eaten and got myself ready for a day out I thought it would be a good idea to try out my, as yet, unused ‘phone card. I rang Mother to let her know I was eating properly and changing my underwear regularly and also let her know I was still enjoying myself immensely. About an hour later I put the ‘phone down and hit the street.

I walked round to the Post Office – to do that one has to walk past the superb Chicago Public Library building (I must get some photographs of it) and then round a couple of corners until the huge “Flamingo” sculpture is visible – it stands right outside the Post Office, which in itself is enormous.

My plan to post off my postcards fell flat on its face as soon as I tried to open the door! Today is “Veterans Day” and most public buildings are shut in observation of this. I will delay this plan by a day and do it tomorrow.

I got myself a coffee and ambled back to the hostel in order to telephone Pete. I knew he and the family were on their way back to Ireland having visited the UK for the weekend and I thought it should be late enough for them to be home. I had a lovely chat with Solomon before speaking to Pete and once more I have to apologise to him as, for the second time, my ‘phone card ran out as I was speaking to him. I resolved to get a new one and speak to him first!

I decided to have a walk around as my initial plan had been thwarted so I just wandered aimlessly for an hour, admiring the Chicago skyline, before looking at my map and finding out where I was. Having located myself I decided to head for Michigan Avenue and the Magnificent Mile as it is called – or Mag Mile for short.

Well, having walked it I can say it probably is a mile long but is only “magnificent” if one is into shopping and looking at ridiculously over-priced rubbish with an extra zero tacked on the end and the decimal point moved at least one place to the right. Oh, sorry I forgot to mention the silly label, person’s name, or initials scribbled over it to disguise the fact it was made in Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, Taiwan or China. I am not sure if it is the silly label or the cheap labour sweat which enhances these items – something must I assume. Or are all the people who buy it gullible idiots with bank balances that exceed their brain cell count?

Anyway bored with that – one can see expensive “idiot” shops in any capital or major city – I went in search of Pizzeria Uno. This is apparently Chicago’s finest purveyor of “Chicago Pizza” This style of pizza was apparently invented in Chicago so I thought I’d better try it.
I found Uno’s with no problem and secured a table. I ordered up one of their individual pizzas and waited to enjoy it. Chicago pizza is basically a pizza on a pie crust with a deep filling – it is very nice though.

Having finished eating I headed back onto the street and took a different route from the Mag mile. One thing it is hard to escape from is the forthcoming commercial festival of Humbug. This is the time of year when money is made by the bucket load (by shops and corporations) and individuals become qualified accountants by being able to balance the books between what they spend on others and what they get bought in return. Oh joy and all hallow the American Dream – the US$! I couldn’t fail to be impressed by the amount of Santa crap one can buy: Cookies for Santa, Sherry for Santa, Socks for Santa, Candy for Santa, etc. All we really need is Wal-Mart to provide a Shotgun for Santa and then everyone can save loads of money! (They could squeeze a few more bucks out of it with Shells for Santa – to go in the shotgun!)

It was getting dark now so I decided to wend my way back to the hostel. I encountered my most amusing beggar on the journey back. He started with the “Can you spare any change?” part to which I gave my standard reply “No mate, sorry.” And he came back with a follow up “ow please man can you spare twenty cents or a dime?”, “no sorry”, “Aw man I’m sick I need it for a Lem-Sip.” By this time we were right next to each other and so I just hit him with “Wow, it smells like you’ve already drank too many of them to me. I’d stay away from those Lem-Sips!” He did have the good grace to look foiled, totally defeated, and gave up. I just carried on walking and chuckling to myself.

Having returned to the hostel I caught up on a few emails; I had heard from Masa and Will again and I fired off a couple of “hello” mails to Miguel and Mike. I wandered outside for a smoke and met Marianne when she asked me for a light. She is a middle-aged American who had just moved here from Washington DC and was staying in the hostel whilst sorting out moving stuff.

[Note: I relate any story I am told by people I meet as I hear it. Whether I believe it or not depends on how they tell me and their body language as they do. I take everything people tell me with a pinch of salt but basically believe them on face value until they contradict themselves or are just patently bullshitting. It is part of my belief in human nature that not all people are liars, but they do exist. I do at least do them the courtesy of listening to their tale. I hasten to add that in my shallow, materialistic way if someone is working round to or actually works around to asking to “borrow” money – they will be very disappointed.]

Anyway I tapped her up for places to see and visit in DC – head for Capitol Hill was her advice because, if you don’t mind walking a bit, then everything is centred around it, all the museums and places of interest. Thank you.

Once again the conversation turned to politics. It is interesting to note that this usually is at the instigation of the Americans I have spoken to. As soon as they know you are foreign the ones with brains then want to apologise for their government and its foreign policy behaviour. As people will know I am more than willing to join in a bit of Bush-bashing but I do stress I do not start it. It really appears that the opinion polls are right; that this cretinous moron has the lowest rating ever and they just can’t wait to replace the idiot. Perhaps some fictional deity might help America after all.

The upshot of this was that we adjourned to the dining area to continue our conversation adn make full use of the freely available coffee the hostel provides.
After much rearranging of the world into a better shape we bid each other good night and went our separate ways.

I crawled into bed and fell soundly asleep to the gentle throbbing of my poor tired feet.

Chicago - Day 3

Today is checking out day, so I crawled out of my comfortable king sized bed in time to get some breakfast first.
Having got showered and dressed I then packed virtually everything ready to go and then went to eat.

On my return I listened to “That Mitchell & Webb Sound” in its entirety whilst I finished my packing. All packed and ready to go I headed for reception in order to check out.

The hotel offers a free shuttle service to the local station so I took that option and hopped into the people carrier they operate for such things. The guy taking me to the station gave me all sorts of recommendations on places to go, see and eat – he had also given me a couple of maps and leaflets on Chicago and the downtown area, one of which contained a very good little street map.

As it was Sunday the trains run every two hours and I had about fifty minutes to wait, but no matter I settled down to listen to a bit of Led Zeppelin and view the surrounding pleasant suburbia. It was very tranquil and all the houses and buildings were neat and well tended.
With about half an hour to go a couple were dropped off and made their way to the platform where I was waiting – one has to cross the rails on a wooden pedestrian rail crossing. The guy came up to me and asked if I knew where he could buy some cigarettes – a Brit! I said “no, not that I’ve seen, but you are welcome to roll one if you want.” We got chatting and it transpired that they were travelling west, having been south and east, while I was travelling east. The guy (I didn’t get their names) said he hated New York (you either love it or hate it I’m told) because he said it was far too busy. He said they have wide sidewalks which are just full of moving people – all the time!

The train arrived on time and was one of the double-decker things I have seen before. I got settled in a seat with my luggage beside me and watched the passing scenery. The fare cost me $3.90 and the train deposited me at Union Station. By this time I had consulted the map and knew the route I should take from the station to the hostel. I am pleased to report my navigation was spot on and I found the hostel without a hitch.

The next surprise was the hostel itself. It had been voted “Best large hostel in the world” in 2006 and I will be surprised if it isn’t again in 2007. The place is big, with plenty of space to relax or move about in. I stayed in a ten bed dorm for my first two nights and there was enough room to hold a party in it! Needless to say I extended my stay, not just because the hostel was so good, because there is a load to see and do in Chicago. The hostel is also right near Jackson station (red & blue lines) and just round the corner one has access to virtually all the other lines at the station in Wabash Street. Everything downtown-wise is within easy walking distance. I was really pleased.

As I was early for check-in I finished writing my postcards! I will post them tomorrow – I felt so pleased with myself.

Having got checked in I dropped all my stuff off in the dorm and was pleasantly surprised with that too. It was a ten bed dorm and it was huge! There was enough room to hold a small party in there, it was great. I met a couple of my roommates, two guys from Germany who were over here to work at a course in Detroit and were having a long weekend in Chicago. I also met Adam, the guy who has the bottom bunk, and he is from Philadelphia. Having chatted to these guys for a while we all went our separate ways.

I went for my usual orientation walk around the area and I have to say on first impressions that Chicago has a good vibe to it. I had a stroll down to Michigan Avenue and had a look at Chicago by night – it was very impressive. I then found a lovely little diner and had something to eat. By this time I was rather tired and decided to get an early night – so I did.

Chicago - Day 2

Today was a bit of a static day really. This is because I tried to get up to date with all the blog entries and sort out some postcard writing.

This took most of the day but I did manage to get a gentle work out in the gym and a nice relaxing sauna – and something to eat.

I then caught up on a few radio programs, like the concluding episode of Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency – another superb job by the BBC. I then fell asleep listening to “That Mitchell & Webb Sound”, not because it was boring but because I was tired.

I must finish writing my post cards, I must finish writing my post cards, I must finish writing my post cards, I must finish writing my post cards, I must finish writing my post cards...

Chicago - Day 1

I had a very refreshing night’s sleep and if the trains went past that often – I didn’t notice! I awoke without the assistance of an alarm clock and was showered and ready to go by 9:00. As the checkout time wasn’t until 9:30 I took the time to nip out and get some breakfast.

Having checked out I decided to pound the streets of Chicago. I programmed a selection of Black Keys albums to listen to, thanked Sid again for introducing me to them, and setting off down Broadway I thought I would head for West Addison Street. I wanted to find a map on the way which would tell me where the hotel was I was staying in and how accessible it might be via public transport. I found a wonderful book shop in Broadway called Borders which had a whole range of maps on Chicago and its environs. It turned out that Itasca is west of O’Hare Airport – as far as the trains run – so I thought I would get there and get a cab, at least I knew I could get to the airport for $2.

The bookshop had a Seattle’s Best coffee store in it so I went down and ordered up a large latte and then presented the coupon I had been given in Seattle. It worked, so I thanked Kathy again in my thoughts and sat down to read my book and enjoy the coffee.

With coffee consumed I hit the streets again and found it very easy to navigate by just following the elevated train tracks. I was basically retracing my journey of the previous night down the red route. Chicago must be an affluent city or else it has very low unemployment because no one stopped me to see if my change had become spare.

I got to West Addison Street and found number 1060 in order to falsify my driving licence renewal. If anyone out there hasn’t seen The Blues Brothers – you are a disgrace and you should do! For the disgraced amongst you (which probably includes my Mother) 1060 West Addison Street is the address of Wrigley Field – home of the Chicago Cubs baseball team. I have no interest in baseball, as I am sure you are all aware, but this was immortalised by the great Elwood Blues on his licence renewal – and pissed off the Illinois Nazis (so no bad thing)!
Addison station is just a few blocks away so I headed for that. I changed lines at Jackson station and took the blue line out to O’Hare.

Having got there, this is where my problems began! Attempting to get a taxi in the direction I wanted to go was a major undertaking. I will explain:
One cannot flag a cab from the airport, they have to be ordered – or they can be picked up from the taxi point where they queue up.

I went to the queue and told the controller where I wanted to go. He told me it would cost me $50-60 to go to Itasca, as it was in the suburbs. I asked if there was a cheaper option to this and he said call a suburban cab.

This I attempted to do – well I succeeded from one of the bank of courtesy telephones they have in the terminal building. The line was terribly crackly but I distinctly heard the dispatcher say Vestibule D – which was right where I was. Having waited half an hour on the draughty concourse for the cab which should have taken ten minutes I went back and tried again. I was told this time to be at Vestibule 5D. (I was in Terminal 1, where domestic flights arrive. Terminal 5 is where the international flights arrive.) I then made a dash for the monorail – the train which takes people from terminal to terminal and out to the car park – about five miles away. Needless to say by the time I got to Terminal 5 – Vestibule D there was no cab. There are no courtesy telephones in the international terminal and so one has to resort to payphones. Having exhausted my supply of change on abortive telephone calls – mainly because the numbers worked fine for dialling the company, but then refused to make a tone when pressed to select from the menu - I tried this from three different telephones before running out of change and further details are just too depressing to recount. I walked out of the door resigned to shell out $50 just to get to the hotel as I was feeling cold, hungry and rather fed up.

As I emerged into the windy night this limo driver asked if I wanted a taxi. Yes, I replied, hoping he would radio for one. “Get in” he said. “No thanks mate, I want a taxi not a limo.”, “This is taxi” he said. “How much will this cost because I want to go to Itasca?” “It is on meter.” He said. I was also surprised to find another person already in the taxi and was debating how much I was cold, tired, fed up and hungry as a trade off with getting out of the car and resuming my Arthurian struggle in extracting a taxi from a large airport... and the seat was warm and comfortable.
OK, so you can see it coming, and so can I when I re-read this....

If limo racing becomes another motor sport slightly less boring than Formula 1 or NASCAR (that is super boring) then this guy will be a contender. Having dropped off this other guy we then proceeded to overtake or undertake everything on the road we came across until we got out into the gentle land of suburbia where there was nothing left to pass.

*** WARNING this passage contains strong language WARNING ***

We stopped outside the main entrance and the cabby said “Thank you sir, ninety-eight dollars please.” To which I replied “You’re fucking joking aren’t you” (it was rhetorical). No he wasn’t.

Beware anyone who comes to Chicago and wants to travel west of O’Hare airport the bastard taxis and limos – unless you get a “suburban” one will charge you 1.5 times the rate, because they have to go into the suburbs! (Imagine the last phrase in a whiney wimpy 5 year old taking the piss in the playground type sound – please.)

Anyway the “cabby” (hereafter known as Abdul the Shyster) didn’t have his credit card machine with him (surprise, surprise), I told him I didn’t have that much cash (a lie) and said he’d have to accept travellers’ cheques. “What are they?” asked AtS, “like ordinary cheques” (I don’t suppose he would notice the difference in spelling) I said, “What is the company name?” I made them out to A-1 Limos (the name exists on the airport taxi board, but whether AtS works for them is another story) and gave them to him. Unfortunately the shitbag had obviously embraced the American Dream (which is the pursuit of the Yankee Dollar – “anything for a buck”) because he asked me “where’s my tip?” I said “in there” pointing to the two $50 travellers cheques I’d given him. “But that goes to the company, where’s my tip?” I fixed him with a baleful stare – eye to eye – and said “Look mate, you’ve just fucked me up the arse, I’m not going to tip you for doing it!” (Thanks again Mum for the laser beams!) “Oh, okay sir, that is your right, it is up to you, okay.” I said “Yes, it is. You hustled me for this fare, you probably scammed the other guy you dropped off, and you were going to pocket the money. That was far more than I would have ever agreed to pay and I was quoted a $30 fare from the airport. I’ve been had and royally shafted, so don’t add insult to injury!” By this time AtS was bowing to me and saying “okay sir, yes it is your right, okay sir.” Whilst probably thinking “get the fuck out of my cab” (at least I hope so!)

[In wonderful full colour, 3D, 20:20 hindsight I should have just got out of the car and asked the concierge to “call the cops” – that should have sorted everything out as I’m sure AtS would have hoofed the gas pedal and disappeared.]

Whilst all this was going on a lovely concierge had removed my bag from the boot, loaded it onto a trolley and was waiting patiently for me to emerge from this limo.

Lesson learned: don’t take what appears to be “an easy option” when it is presented. Stop. Think. Ignore the discomfort one is suffering and be objective! Enough said; we move on.
I checked in and got to my room. Having unpacked what I required I then headed off to eat – unwinding all the way.

I had a very enjoyable meal and was suitably stuffed when I returned to my room.

I upended my bags and tipped everything onto the floor so I could sort it out and throw away all the rubbish I had acquired – I managed to fill a waste bin with this. I sorted out all my clothes, not many but I sorted them anyway and then gave up for the night and crawled into the lovely big comfortable bed.

I fell asleep wishing a horrible painful death upon AtS involving a limo and a bridge support – or some other solid structure posing no harm or threat to anyone else. Toyed with the idea of getting in touch with “The Department of Homeland Security” and lying to them about overhearing “a terrorist plot” and the secreting of explosive devices in anal cavities, but just had to make do with dreaming about punching the guy in the face until it was beyond the recognition of its own mother – if it ever had one – whom he would have had sexual relations with for sure.
I fell asleep, more to the point, annoyed with myself at being had and angry at my own stupidity. Fictional deity bless America!

Seattle – Chicago

Today was mainly spent travelling and feeling sad.

I was up and ready to go by my desired time of 8:00 as I was aiming at one of the busses between 8:12 and 8:27 which would get me to Tacoma airport by 9:00 in time for my 11:00 flight.

I checked out and Eric caught me on the way, so we bid each other farewell and wished each other well with our lives. I left and got to the Transit Tunnel in plenty of time. (Picture above.) The bus fares had gone up! I heard someone mention that a couple of days ago and then found out it was true – I had to pay $2 for the 30 minute bus journey to the airport (I still wasn’t complaining though).

I checked in, received boarding pass and dropped off bags – all wonderfully simple with e-tickets.

I cleared security and then sat in the departure lounge at the appropriate gate. I read a bit more of my book whilst doing so and the time passed quickly.

As I sat looking out of the aircraft window, Tacoma airport taxied by (I know the plane was really doing the taxiing) I felt quite sad to be leaving the Holy City of Seattle behind. The city itself had a good vibe to it and the hostel was one of the best, if not the best, I have stayed in so far. The people that I met, and re-met, there were good fun and genuinely nice people. One has to learn with travelling not to compare, or expect, the next place to be the same as the previous. It will be different.

I had a middle seat on the plane, which I do not like particularly, and a lard-arsed woman in the window seat to my right. She had to keep shuffling the sacks of fat which doubled as her buttocks during the flight, which was a bit annoying, and her left one protruded under the armrest so my glasses case – which happened to be in my right hand pocket – kept jabbing into the roll of flab every so often. I had no sympathy for this as the gut bucket proceeded to stuff it’s face as soon as the plane left the ground. There seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of chewy jelly sweets, crisps, and cookies (biscuits to normal folk). I don’t know if it was in the Magic Circle, or putting in some serious practice to apply, but they seemed to come out of nowhere. I suppose some form of restraint was exercised because it asked for a DIET coke when the drinks came round. A bit late methinks!

The flight itself went without a hitch even though the three and a half hour flight cost me five and a half hours – a result of crossing from Pacific Time to Central Time – so I landed in Chicago at just after 5pm.

Needless to say it was getting dark when I emerged from the airport – or should I say international rabbit warren, it has five terminals. I found the CTA (Chicago Transit Authority) station with no problem and boarded a blue line train for downtown. The fare cost me $2 and the journey was a good half hour. The instructions I had from the hostels website said change to a red line train at Washington station – so I got off at Washington station, the train left, and it was then I found out the transfer tunnel from the blue line to the red line at Washington station is shut for renovation – in fact Washington red line station is shut for renovation. Oh bugger!

A very helpful ticket collector (or whatever their proper title is) told me to catch a train back the other way two stops to Jackson and then change onto the red line. This I did.

I got off at Granville – according to the instructions – and walked down the road, took a left turn and walked the two blocks required. Lo and behold, there was the hostel. I checked in and promptly asked where everyone was as the place was deserted. This was a bit different from where I had come from. The young lady behind the counter said yes it was rather empty tonight but tomorrow and over the weekend they were fully booked. I took her word for it as that is what the website told me too. I didn’t complain as I had a whole dorm to myself – in fact I think I had a whole floor to myself!

Having dumped all my stuff I headed out to the little diner I had passed on the way to the hostel. I settled in and knew I had made a good choice when “Dazed and Confused” (the live version from “The Song Remains The Same”) started over the sound system. Along came some good food and I really did feel I was welcome in Chicago. You’re off to a good start Windy City – let’s see if you can keep it going.

After eating I was just about fit to walk the three or four blocks back to the hostel and hit the sack, which is exactly what I did. The hostel was right beside the railway lines – elevated railroad – or the tracks were right beside the hostel (I don’t know which came first) but I didn’t think that would stop me sleeping as I was knackered. It is true folks – travelling is tiring.

Seattle – Day 10

Wow, I still can’t believe I have been here ten days – it certainly doesn’t seem it. However, I feel I want to move on now. I have seen old friends in Chris and Charlie again. I have made new friends in Mike, Miguel, Andy, Mark, Andrew, Eric and Brendon. The dynamic has changed and a change is required. So today is the Chicago plan.

I spent most of the day glued to a dog slow Apple Mac (what is all the fuss about?) booking things for tomorrow. I eventually got a flight booked, one night in Chicago International hostel – because they were full over the weekend, two nights in the HI Chicago hostel – after the weekend and two nights in a hotel/resort out in Itasca – about 26-28 miles outside downtown Chicago.

The hotel stay will be my “luxury chill” where I hope to catch up with some of the blog entries I am falling behind with. I will also make use of the pool, sauna and gym while I’m there.
After getting everything booked – which did take about six hours (because I was careful and checked some feedback) – I went in search of food.

[I have found the feedback given in all the cases of hotels or hostels to be most useful. The hotel I chose was not the cheapest but seemed to be the best for the money (discount rate as it is out of season) and one of the hotels I considered is apparently next to a landfill site and stinks – according to the feedback. I just wanted a chance to ease from the high of the good times I had had in Seattle into whatever I might experience in Chicago.]

I can safely make an observation about America now:-
Like the ravens at the Tower of London – 80% of all American males must be wearing baseball caps at all times. If this does not happen: the union will dissolve into chaos, disorder, and a surplus of baseball caps. The sad bastards seem to treat them like cancer ‘phones and must keep them on at all times and in all places – probably whilst, swimming, screwing, taking a shower and certainly taking a dump. One can tell which ones have valid ID to be able to buy liquor (i.e. over 21 years of age) because they have learned to put them on properly (mostly).

Right, defamity over; I wandered back to the hostel soaking up the last atmosphere of Seattle.

My experiences here had been really good and will stay in my memory for a long time. The hostel is superb and has some wonderful people working in and passing through it – with a few exceptions – and the people in the local shops seem to recognise when one has been around for a while – or perhaps it is just my striking looks and manner! (Yeah, choke on it people – I did.)

I said farewell to the social room and took a picture of the mural on the far wall which was a superb encapsulation of God Past and the Holy City of Seattle (one might not be able to see from the shrunken picture that the clock on the market reads 25) which apparently was painted by a Korean who drank vodka all day and was near permanently pickled. This information was told to me by Mike the cook – who came for a fortnight and has been there four months. I can easily understand how and why. It is a place I could return to and work for my keep, thus requiring very little money to live.

I drank my final beer, played my farewell game of pinball, had a farewell smoke with all the guys and exchanged email addresses with them.

I got to bed just before midnight and everything was ready for me to just gather up and go in the morning – I had arranged everything in order so I didn’t have to make much noise and disturb anyone in the morning.

So I said “goodnight” to my last night in Seattle and didn’t remain sleepless.

Seattle – Day 9

I thought I would have a lazy day today, although I did get up to get some breakfast. After that I went back to bed and then didn’t wake up until 11:15.

Having showered and dressed I headed down to the lounge and then decided to get a coffee from over the road. As I was waiting to cross the road Charlie caught up with me and we got a coffee together. We returned to the hostel social room and played a few games of pinball while we drank our coffees.

Charlie left for Portland about 12:30; he had decided to go by Greyhound in the end as it was only an hour journey.

I then got myself settled down for posting some blog entries and booking flights to, and accommodations in, Chicago. This was short lived as the wireless network here seems to be like a Yo. (There was no reciprocating motion to it so it couldn’t be termed a Yo-Yo!) I gave up trying to get an Internet connection through it and just stuck to updating the blog entries.

The social smoking room atmosphere was damaged by a new arrival - John the cretinous Christian. This is the first “typical Yank” I have met who falls nicely into stereotype. He is a loud obnoxious git who has always done what anyone else has done, you know; climbed a mountain, swam a river, felled a tree, wrestled a lion, benefitted humankind by sleeping and shutting up for a few hours. He was accompanied by his stick-like vacuous girlfriend who behaved like a deceased-again Moony (lifeless and with no brain). I was just innocently avoiding him when the idiot decided to include me in its sermon. When asked if I wanted to “walk with the lord” I just couldn’t help replying “Not when I can fly with American Airlines or ride with Amtrak.” That got a decent laugh from all the others seated around and got me enough peace to finish my cigarette and bail out. Later in the day I entered the smoking room and the preaching prat was back in flow going on about how this jesus bloke who keeps getting mentioned was “a perfect man” – I immediately thought he should talk to some of the women I know to have that notion destroyed (regardless of the man). Eric walked in and looked around; saw me studying the map of the world on the wall and said “Aw shit not a religious conversation. I’m outta here.” Which was generally the opinion of most people. After finishing my smoke I retired to the lounge and watched everyone gradually emerge from the smoking room – most shaking their heads – until there was no one left but “twat and his bird”.

I went out on the trip the hostel had to the Underground Tour. This is a section of Seattle which was built over after the initial part of town burned down. As most structures were wooden the city chiefs insisted the rebuilding was done in stone to prevent a similar disaster – and so it was, but about two storeys higher. The tour was very interesting and informative, but I have a horrible feeling I will have a good night’s sleep and it will all be gone. Nevertheless, I recommend it if anyone comes to Seattle.

After getting back I secured another coffee from over the road and was duly presented with two vouchers entitling me to a free beverage by the lovely Katy – star barista – who greeted me with “Hi Phil, good to see you buddy. Large latte?” To which I could only reply “you know me too well.”

I returned to carry on with more blog updates but decided to wait until after dinner – Mike was doing one of his Mexicans again, yum.

Whilst dinner was on someone had put Close Encounters on the TV. (It was a wonderful TV at the hostel. It was a huge sod-off plasma screen with no TV reception! It was capable of DVD or VHS playback – such joy as there were no morons sat in front of it with a remote control, ADD, and St Vitas dance.) I watched the end of the movie – it made me realise how old it was and how dated it looked – as it was still good and I enjoyed it.

After this I was feeling very tired and as I couldn’t get anywhere near an Internet connection I decided to have an early night.

This was slightly delayed as I went to have my goodnight smoke and got chatting to Brendon and Raoul (apologies if I got the spelling wrong) – and then we had to have a mini-pinball competition. (Ego dictates that I have to let you know I won.)

I did get to bed just before midnight so it was earlier than normal.

Seattle – Day 8

Well I trust you all had fun in the UK setting fire to your money in exchange for a flash and a bang!

Today was fun and games day! I would have to see if I could borrow the large boots and Canadian man again.

I was up in time for breakfast and then had a little doze in a chair. I woke up later and someone had put Star Wars: The Return of the Jedi on the DVD player. I was obliged to watch the end of that and then I thought about getting myself ready. I packed up my laptop and got ready to get something to eat – I had learned my lesson from yesterday – don’t start empty!
I ran into Charlie on the way out and so we got a coffee & had a chat. I invited him along for some pinball play if he wanted. He had several calls to make in relation to getting to Portland, so I left it up to him and headed out for lunch.

There are a few breweries in Seattle and in the market is the remains of one which has been converted into a restaurant, so this is where I dined. The king prawn starter I had was wonderful and the burger I went for was homemade – someone took a steak, minced it up and then stuck it back together again – and came with a bowl of salad and steak cut fries. [Warning: “Seasoned fries” is code for: take a portion of chips (they are crisps to Americans) and throw them in a bucket of salt. Put a lid on the bucket and shake the contents for a while. Sieve off the chips (fries) and then serve. If you are one of those uncouth people who put salt on food before tasting it, then you are in for a surprise.] Having finished that I headed for Shorty’s bar.

As I was running late, fifteen minutes, Chris was already waiting for me outside the pub. (Stand down Aussies – he had got himself a beer!) We had a chat and a catch up from yesterday and then we went and “hit the pinnies”. There are some very sophisticated pinball machines about today – and very complicated too! Trying to work out what one should be doing whilst playing the thing is just mind boggling as there are lights & sounds going off all over them. We played virtually all of them and our favourites were: Star Trek: TNG, The Addams Family, Pirates of the Caribbean, Lord of the Rings, and Family Guy (of course).

We took a break for some food at the Chinese place Chris recommended yesterday and had a wonderful Kung Po Chicken.

We returned to Shorty’s for some more beer and pinball and Jonah showed up to join in.
We had a good laugh and took a break from playing to sit and chat. As we were sitting about outside – prime targets for the pan handlers but we just said “no” to them as they approached. One of these guys tried his luck with Jonah and Jonah being a very kind and charitable guy told this bum he wouldn’t give him money but would buy him food if he was hungry. The bloke took the proffered hot dog and consumed it. After he had finished his “dog” this guy then asked me for money – “just $5 for some gas for my car”. I told him to get his car and we can drive to the gas station and I’ll put $5 of gas in it for him. “But it’s out of gas man, so I can’t get it.” Then how will $5 help?” I asked. This was when his argument hit the rocks and sunk, and he was duly dispatched with instructions of “don’t take the piss” and so he left fed but with no more money than he started with. This was also the time we taught Jonah some proper English slang. He was fascinated with the term “take a slash” when Chris said “I’m off to the bog to take a slash.” Jonah has vowed to do his best to induct it into American usage. We wished him well in his task.

We finished our beers when the bar shut at 2:00, exchanged email addresses and said our farewells.

I crossed the road with Chris and then headed for the hostel.

Once again it was a repeat of yesterday morning – crawl into bed and fall asleep.

Seattle – Day 7

I can’t believe I have been here for a week already.

I must get my laundry done today and plot my next hop on my journey. I have decided to go to Chicago for a few days before heading on to New York. I will investigate the train and plane options as the general consensus is; “avoid the Greyhounds”, unless absolutely necessary.
I checked my emails and caught up with the football results – Go Southend, another win – and had a lovely Messenger chat with Christy as we both happened to be online. Apologies to those of you who have sent mails and not received a reply yet, you will. I must get round to writing some postcards too or I won’t even be posting them in Seattle!

I was looking forward to meeting Chris and had intended getting something to eat before heading off, however, the time slipped away and I was in danger of being late.
Shorty’s is a lovely dive bar on 2nd Avenue just past Blanchard Street. In the back room is the Pinball Cove which contains about fifteen different pinball machines – oh joy! Today however there was a pinball competition taking place and the first prize was the wonderful looking pinball machine on display in the front bar – this was the venue for “the final”.

Chris and I sat outside most of the time drinking, smoking and talking (quantities may vary). It was great catching up with each other’s journeys. Chris had eventually got down as far as Tijuana (it’s crazy down there by many accounts) in the car they had to hire – the van got scrapped in Oregon. There were three Aussies and a Canadian in their group and apparently they had a whale of a time and followed Route 101 down the coast rather than take the Interstate. He said the scenery was just wonderful, and if they wanted to stop at a particular beach all they had to do was pull off the road onto the beach and stop. Chris flies back to Australia from Vancouver so he decided to stop off in Seattle for a week as a friend of his lives and works in Seattle – in 2nd Avenue just across from Shorty’s as it happens – and therefore has no accommodation costs.

During the time we were chatting and drinking obviously we needed a piss or two. This entailed... (you don’t think I’m going to go into detail do you?) ...walking through to the back of the bar where the restrooms are (toilets to English speakers) and, of course passing the machines the competition was being played on. Some of these guys were serious dudes. Some of the modern machines will easily score in millions – these guys were pushing the machine high scores into the billions, it was quite mesmerising to watch and a lot of fun. Some of the competitors were riding the machines in the danger zone (that warning it gives just prior to tilting) virtually all the time and getting movement on that crazy silver ball against the laws of gravity and momentum – the best idea is to move the table when the ball is in the air (that is what they do) and then it comes down in a different place – amazing to watch. I felt a song coming on but not all the tables were Bally’s so I refrained from starting my own “Suicide Karaoke” and went back outside.

About sixish Chris suggested getting something to eat. What a brilliant idea as I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and was feeling a little tipsy.

The Chinese restaurant he suggested was shut on Sundays so we went to a Mexican place instead. Having managed to eat everything put before me we were going to meet up with Andy (Chris’ mate who was staying at the hostel) in this cafe-bar just round the corner from where we were. We arrived at 9:20, a little later than our meet up time at 9:00, and realised we had “done a wrong on’” as soon as we walked through the door. I remember seeing a notice on the board for this at the hostel headed “Divas Burlesque”.


Right, now that you have toyed with that idea for a while and come up with an image which is totally wrong. I now go on to prove it.

There was a camp old guy walking mincing around dressed like a cross between Danny La Rue and John Inman but with nowhere near any talent, the clientele numbered 10 and we represented a sudden 20% increase! There was no sign of Andy and we agreed as we got to the bar we would have one drink and leave – this last was agreed partially telepathically and confirmed by one word each. We got our drinks and sat away from the “stage” (open floor area between deserted tables – but they did tastefully have candles on!).

The first “act” was introduced. Oh dear! Some people have no idea do they? If one is going to be a burlesque dancer is it obligatory to have a gut which obscures one’s undergarments? Is a sense of dancing rhythm worse than mine an advantage? Is membership of the Kennel Club similar to having an Equity card? The answer to all these questions, according to me, is: “I don’t know.” but obviously to the management of this bar the answer is “yes”. Perhaps the bar was running a government approved rehab scheme for failed Amateur Dramatic trainee actors. Perhaps the “performers” hadn’t been women for long and needed some “outward therapy” – I don’t know about any of this either. Perhaps I shouldn’t be searching for an explanation or excuse. Perhaps I should just put it in the local vernacular and say “it sucked man” – or to our northern readers – “it was shite”.

Chris made the comment on one of the acts (there were three), “It is me, or did she look better with her clothes on?” I was trying not to laugh out loud and had to be careful not to choke on my beer. MC Queen decided to come over and “interview” us – I was already turning red and beginning to sweat – and fortunately he got to Chris first (I have to confess I was sitting closer to the door out – by deliberate choice!) draped his arm around his shoulders and asked “What’s your name and where are you from?” waving his radio mic towards Chris.

Chris replied; “Chris from Australia”
MC Queen: “Oh, Chrissssssssssssssssssss” – it sounded like an asthmatic cat.
Chris: “No it’s Chris actually.”
MC Queen: “Ow, and what are you doing in Seattle?”
Chris: “Fucked if I know.”

MC Queen whips away the mic like a bitten penis and minces very forcefully back to “the stage” to introduce the next “act”. Disaster over. Danger averted. Thank you Chris you beauty!
By the time we had finished our drinks “Diva Burlesque” was coming to an end. The creatures only came on for about three minutes each – enough time to clumsily remove some outer garments and expose nipple tassels or heart shaped covers if we were unlucky. One of the performers looked most “unbalanced” simply because it looked like her tattooist had just loaded them into a shotgun preformed and shot the woman with them – they stuck where they landed. The idea of this, I believe, is that as the “young ladies” come moving “provocatively” past the tables one is “meant to tip them” – although it would take a brave or very desperate person to want to find the band of any undergarment to tuck a bill into! I’d have just posted it between two rolls and hope it didn’t fall out – if I had the wild notion to. (No I hadn’t drunk THAT much – I would have been unconscious first!)

We escaped rapidly and went back to Shorty’s ritually slandering Andy on the way and threatening forms of painful torture if we had the chance.

Back at Shorty’s the final was approaching, so we armed ourselves with beers and watched the pinball final on the prize machine. Whoever won this game took it home with them.
The final was quite exciting to watch with the eventual winner creaming his opposition. The machine was then duly dismantled and carried to the winner’s car. The arena was cleared of dismembered limbs, swabbed down and cleared for drinking.

As we were sitting about outside we got talking to a couple of American guys named Jonah & Doug.

These were a couple of switched on guys with open minds and thoughts of their own. Both of them were anti-Bush-ites, and as Jonah put it to me: “How would you feel if everyone thought you were like Tony Blair just because you’re British?” I had to reply: “Well, I would be insulted of course!” and his response: “Then please don’t think we are all like George Bullshit Bush.” A very fair point. We then all joined in some US Government policy assassination – a bit like shooting friendly fish in a barrel really, with a friendly gun loaded with friendly bullets.
The pub threw us out at two o’clock. We stood about chatting for a while and Chris and I agreed to meet and do it all again tomorrow, but with the addition of pinball playing as it should be a lot quieter on a Monday. Doug and Jonah said they might look in after work tomorrow, if we were likely to be there. We probably would.

It was 3:15 when I got back to the hostel, so I just crawled into bed and fell asleep.

Seattle – Day 6

I awoke surprisingly early this morning – 9:00. I was hungry and thirsty so I got up for breakfast.

Having eaten some toast I found Andrew entering the lounge area and he suggested getting a decent coffee, so we trotted across the road for a container of Seattle’s Best. We sat about chatting for a bit and then Andrew realised he would have to get his act together in order to get to Vancouver today. He is going up by Greyhound to spend a few days with a mate of his. I said farewell to Andrew and wished him “happy trails”. He would be missed.

I went back over the road for another caffeine fix and the girl behind the counter asked me what I wanted and then said “its Phil right?” – Oh dear, they had got to know me.
Having consumed my refill I had a sort out of all my stuff – creating a small mound of laundry – and then got showered & changed. The laundry will go on tonight, so in the meantime I got another refill and sat down to catch up with the last few days’ blog entries. I also checked my emails and had one from Chris suggesting a meet-up tomorrow. I replied straight away accepting, it will be good to hear what happened to the van on the road trip as well as the other adventures we would have had since Vancouver – over a month ago!

I was sitting at the laptop typing up this blog entry when this voice said “Hiya Phil, how are you going?” and I looked up to see Charlie standing there. We promptly engaged in conversation getting mutual updates on our respective travels and future plans. We also compared notes on the Rugby World Cup final which Charlie managed to see live. I told him my tale of woe for which he was most sympathetic. We also agreed on the poor standard of refereeing displayed by the officials – I have seen better standards in Six Nations matches.

Charlie then went off to get his stuff deposited in his room and sorted out while I carried on getting this typed up. We met up later to go and get something to eat and settled on trying the Indian restaurant on 3rd Avenue. The meal was very nice. One also has to realise that Indian and Chinese meals here are different to similar ones in the UK. They definitely have more sugar in them and are prone to pamper the very sweet palates Americans seem to have. A good example of this is the coffee shop over the road which has a disgustingly large array of scones, cookies, cakes and pastries all loaded with cream, icing, sugar and more sugar. Being a “savoury person” these have little interest for me. The onion bargee I got was a bunch of onion rings coated in “bargee batter” and fried – they were nice though.

Having finished eating we stopped at the take-out on the way back and got some beers. We returned to the hostel and assumed the relaxed position in the smoking room. Andy came in and joined us followed by Mike, Miguel and the Professor. We got chatting and laughing as usual and the time evaporated. Charlie & I bashed the pinball machine a bit and then he decided to turn in for the night. I was going to follow him after finishing my beer but got talking to Mark. We ended up consuming a few more beers as Mark had some different variety of the beer I was drinking (if I remember to look next time I can supply the name – Henry Weinhard’s Private Reserve) so I had to try one of those – the Professor insisted! We had a great laugh as this guy had a wonderful dry understated sense of humour. Although I had chatted with him last night I hadn’t had a real one-to-one with him until now. He was a bloody interesting bloke and I can see why Andrew had said to me “have a talk with the Professor, he is a real nice interesting guy” he was quite right. We had a great laugh exchanging ideas and opinions. At one stage I finished one of my diatribes about the Americans and said “In your Professorial opinion; am I being too cynical?” to which the Professor smiled, laughed and said “Yes, I think you are being too cynical... but not much.” He has travelled around more of America than I have and came to the conclusion that, if one stuck to the cities as one travelled around it, one could tire of America. I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what he meant, but will see more of it before I reach any conclusions.

We eventually finished our beers and headed for a lie down. Mark was leaving tomorrow for Portland, which seems to be a popular destination from here, by train so would be gone by 8:30 in the morning. We said our farewells and how nice it was to have met each other, which certainly wasn’t bullshit on my part – he was a real nice unassuming guy.

So much for the early night, but it was earlier in the morning than the one before!

Seattle – Day 5

Today started yesterday really but I was up by 9:15 in order to get some breakfast as I was hungry.

I met up with Andrew as we were having breakfast and we set a time for departure. I got myself showered and ready in plenty of time and we set off early as we were both ready to go. I had told Andrew my story of the embarrassing wait at the bus stop and so we headed off in search of the transport tunnels which are open during the week.

Probably because we were walking, talking and drinking coffees all at the same time we managed to miss the tunnel entrance. We were now at the junction of 4th and Yesler Way and found a conveniently abandoned shopping trolley, so out came the maps and we sussed out where we went wrong – nowhere directionally – so we started to retrace our steps.
I spotted the entrance to the tunnels and we headed down the escalator and located Bay C. It was only when we got there that Andrew realised he didn’t have his rucksack with him. It contained his passport so he started entering panic land. I had a mental vision and new exactly what had happened to it; I remembered seeing him take it off and put it in the shopping trolley. Having told him this we headed back to the intersection. Fortunately all was well as the rucksack was still there – and so was the shopping trolley. After much sighing in relief and thanks for the memory (I feel a song coming on) Andrew regained equilibrium and apologised for going into “total panic” mode. I commiserated as I know that horrible feeling of panic, increased heart rate and feeling sick when one thinks something important has been lost or stolen. A passport is a serious piece of documentation, and to lose it would be disastrous. It also shows how distractions can cause a slip of concentration – Andrew was used to quite a lot of solo travelling too – as we had walked off looking at our respective maps and I hadn’t registered that the rucksack was still sitting in the trolley. Lessons learned and no harm done we returned to the tunnel.

The bus duly arrived when it should and took us to Renton Transit Centre where we changed busses. The connecting bus was waiting (the layovers are timed well) and the driver very helpfully pointed out the stop we wanted.

The shrine was clearly and easily visible from the entrance so we headed for it. It was in the process of being cleaned – latter stages fortunately – as it is every Friday. There were no words required as Andrew and I just split up and headed in different directions around the memorial. There was a mutual understanding that we wanted our own space for this and we would get together when we were ready to. There were floral tributes on the central memorial stone – apparently there always is as people just bring them and leave them. The grounds man I spoke to who was cleaning the shrine said that it is quite amazing how there are never heaps of flowers on the memorial but they are always there as someone will bring a floral tribute as one dies off and they clean it away. He said it was weird because they almost seem to grow there. God Past is actually buried under the sundial which stands off to one side – and yes, it did show the right time.

After our individual times of reflection Andrew & I met at the sundial – that’s when we chatted to the grounds man – and did a bit of mutual picture taking. We then stood and reflected on our Hendrix memories; first time of hearing, most memorable hearing, favourite number, etc. and it was all a very moving experience – every pun intended.

We mutually decided to head off and left the memorial park to reverse our bus journeys.

As we were waiting at the bus stop Andrew suggested stopping off in Chinatown and getting something to eat. “Do you like Chinese?” he asked, “Do bears shit in the woods?” I replied – that was settled then.

We got off the bus and headed for the street and Chinatown – we both had maps and knew where we were headed. We walked around several blocks and consulted maps as we should have been in Chinatown. No we hadn’t miss-read our maps we should be in it. There were a few spaced out vegetable and provisions shops, a few businesses with Chinese signs on, a Chinese supermarket and a few restaurants. We picked one – which turned out to be a soup place – and had a disappointing sample meal. We asked the lady in the restaurant where the heart of Chinatown was, and she directed us back the way we had come. After wandering around a few more blocks we accosted a young lady in the street and asked the same question. “You in it.” was her reply and her gesture brought to our attention the gilt coloured small pagoda style gate effectively in a parking lot. Andrew and I concluded it was the most un-china like Chinatown we had ever experienced. We had both been to Vancouver and Andrew told me that San Francisco’s Chinatown was even bigger and better than Vancouver’s. Feeling a little cheated we entered the next restaurant and had another disappointing meal of noodle & offal – the broccoli was superb though. Andrew apologised for the disappointing standard of the food we had consumed, out of hunger more than anything else, as it was his suggestion to come to Chinatown. I told him not to worry as I always visit the Chinatown areas of the cities I have visited so far as they are always interesting and usually offer some wonderful eating. It wasn’t his fault that Seattle doesn’t really have a Chinatown.

We headed back to the hostel and grabbed a coffee on the way. As we were sitting around in the smoking room a few people drifted in; Mike, Miguel, and Andy. Miguel was full of thanks to me because I had burned him a couple of CDs containing all my Yes tracks. He was asking me if I had any on CD following our conversation the other night when we got into a music discussion. I am always impressed when a youngster has heard of these bands and still likes to listen to them because they enjoy and appreciate the musicianship displayed and prefer them to the vast majority of mass produced crap peddled today.

The inevitable question of “party?” was mentioned to unanimous approval. A flurry of activity took place and everyone reconvened about half an hour later whereupon guitars, CDs, hash pipes and beers were produced – let the party commence!

This was one of the best evenings I have ever had as everyone just “got in the groove” and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. The only female in the midst, Jennifer, was good company and we asked her if she didn’t feel out of place amongst all “the lads”. She said; “no I just want some good company and to drink some beer.” She had spent the last seven years in Europe so we immediately began pouring scorn on the Americans insistence at being the last imperial retard in the world, as she said; “having got used to the metric system, it just makes so much more sense.” I agree. We got a craving for Hendrix music and I examined the stereo for a suitable input for my MP3 player. It didn’t have one – well it did, but I didn’t have a mini-USB to mini-USB cable.

About 2:00 we started taking casualties. Andrew lay down on the small sofa and fell asleep, Andy had to “retire hurt” after one too many beers (he “shotgunned” two – very silly) and turning very pale, the Professor came to the conclusion he had had enough and one of the young German lads wobbled out of the room with a wave.

Mike & Miguel, who had “taken a sabbatical” for a while returned to find Jennifer & I chilling to the Jimi CD Miguel had burned earlier. They were most impressed that I was still going and then Andrew woke up and joined us.

We finished the last of the beers like true heroes (sort of) and I looked at my watch. At first I thought one of the hands had dropped off and then I worked out it was 5:25. I decided this was enough and turned in for the morning.

When I got back to the dorm I saw “the German guy” lying fully clothed on one of the bunks. I had the upper bunk, so had to climb to Base Camp 2 before I could collapse. I did have a very wobbly moment when I got to the top of the ladder, but had the sense to wobble forwards – the poor bastard below me might have thought otherwise but he didn’t complain if he was there. I vaguely remember hearing Andrew creep in about ten minutes later so I assumed the rest of the fold had found their respective resting places.