Phil Wilson

San Francisco - Day 11

2008-11-21T15:25:00.000Z

I am now in danger of being “Tortoised”. This is a phenomenon which affects people staying at The Green Tortoise hostels – I suffered it in Seattle. (Well sufferance isn’t really true as it was enjoyable.) One gets comfortable in these places and it is very easy to stay. I have, however, “broken the cycle” because I will be leaving San Francisco tomorrow.

After yesterday’s “interruptions” I decided to set up office in my dorm straightaway and not even attempt the ballroom. Having eaten and armed myself with coffee that is exactly what I did. I resolved not to come out, or play games, until I had got somewhere to stay over the holiday period!

This I managed to do, although it did take several hours to work out where I wanted to stay in order to get to see the things I want and the availability of my first choices. Knowing where I would be staying took the pressure off my troubled brain and I could relax. I intend to spend Humbug Day in Big Sur National Park, surrounded by nature and untortured by commercial exploitation – I was looking forward to it!

I arranged my car hire and having now finalised everything for my onward travel I rewarded myself with something to eat.

I selected a little Italian restaurant just off of Broadway and had a rather excellent meal served to me by a stunning looking waitress – I think that enhanced the flavour.
After my meal I collected a coffee and headed back to the hostel where I set about getting packed and re-checked it again – just in case.

The rest of the day was spent at leisure and rounded off with a nice relaxing sauna and an early-ish night as I wanted to be all refreshed and alert for my departure tomorrow.

In the words of Kurt Cobain

2008-06-12T08:45:00.002+01:00

All Apologies!
Many apologies to my devoted readers (I will change my underwear later) who have been deprived of my deranged ramblings whilst I travel the world.
Having got to Mexico this was where I noticed decent Internet connections getting scarcer and then non-existant. I had problems uploading photographs on the last couple of entries so I gave up.
The "good" news is: I have kept an electronic diary (well a series of Word documents) of my travels which are pretty well complete and up to date, so I will post these up when I get the chance to.
In the meantime; I am alive and well and currently in Australia - a truly wonderful country. If anyone out there can translate "No worries mate" into Latin then perhaps the Aussie Government can incorporate it into their coat of arms.
Once again, apologies for the break in service. Normality will not be resumed as it is an abstract concept - and entirely subjective!
My best wishes and appreciation to any and all who bother to click the buttons in order to read this.
Phil

San Francisco - Day 10

2008-04-02T08:33:00.002+01:00

I decided today was “a day of action”, but didn’t wake up until 11:00. The head wasn’t very delicate and so I pressed on!

I visited Cafe Roma for my usual large latte – this and two cigarettes = breakfast! Having returned to the hostel I then set up workstation in the ballroom. I got a nice corner spot out of the direct sunshine. (This makes one hot and you can’t see the screen half the time due to the glare – and superior strength - of the Sun!)

First to come and chat was John. He was waxing lyrical about our fun last night, we both agreed it was good to exchange a bit of English irony (like plastic, but made out of iron for the Yanks) and wet ourselves laughing waiting for the “locals” to get the joke – they usually had to work it out “out loud” before the quarter dropped! John is here for the next eight months working in the hostel, so it has literally become his home.

John disappeared to tend to some chores and Stephanie & Jolie came into the ballroom. They came over and had a chat. They had been shopping in fine girlie fashion and with the Canadian $ outstripping the US$ it was cheap shopping for them. They leave the same day as I – Saturday – but they know where they are going. All I have is a car rented and nowhere specific to drive it to! I attempted to make some progress.

Eleanor came in then and so I stopped to have a chat with her. She is leaving Saturday, by Greyhound to LA where she then flies back to Leeds. We waxed lyrical about Death Valley and the geological formations on show, and she admitted that it had fired her interest in knowing more about the way the valley was formed. She left to meet a guy she met travelling in China two years ago. He has since married and is in San Francisco with his wife, so they were all going to get together for a few drinks and a chat.

Marcos came in next. He came and asked if I had seen his “Constructing the Universe” book. “No” I said, “I gave them back to you after taking all the details.” “I know,” he said, “I remember you put them in my hand”. He had loaned it to an American guy who was about when we were discussing them after I had returned the books. We formulated a suitable punishment for all book thieves; they were all excruciatingly painful and resulted in death, and then he went off in search of this American guy. I know how he feels – books are precious things! (Both in the “Local Shop” and the Gollum sense.)

I eventually gave up on getting anywhere as:
1. The wireless network seem to be incapable of connecting to the Internet
2. I had finished my coffee
3. I was hungry and it was 15:00

I packed up my laptop, took it up to my locker, and went out for something to eat. I decided to take JD’s recommendation and went to Yii’s (a Chinese restaurant) for duck over rice. This was a superb recommendation as the meal was delicious and cost less than $5. I headed back to the hostel feeling quite stuffed.

Having re-established office back in the ballroom I set about trying to get some things booked up for Humbug. (Humbug is the great commercial fest and book-balancing exercise which used to be the winter solstice before religions ruined it and corporations made shit loads of money out of it convincing idiots and morons that they must take out loans, or get new credit cards, for in order to buy overpriced crap they wouldn’t normally buy. It is also an excuse for restaurants, pubs, clubs, diners, etc. to serve up warmed up plastic, cardboard or reprocessed food with a sprig of holly on top and charge ten times the price for. Call me cynical but that is exactly what this time of year is – a cynical rip-off and exploitation of the gullible!)

My success was rather thwarted by a small procession of people who kept stopping by to chat to me: John, Neil, JD, Eleanor, Marcos, and “the Canadian girls” were all guilty (well as much as one can call people guilty for being friendly) of delaying my plans.

After a few hours of this I gave up, packed up and just settled for sitting in the ballroom and chatting to everyone who wanted to.

Later on – after dark – it was suggested we go out for pizza so a bunch of us took a stroll up the road to a pizza place and indulged in some very fine pizza.
After this we went back to the hostel, collecting some beers as we went, and proceeded to drink the beers and chat about many things.

When all the beers were gone I decided it would be a very good idea to go to bed, especially as it was now tomorrow! I returned to my dorm and succeeded in getting to bed without waking any of my roommates up and was instantly asleep!
I will do some serious planning later today...

San Francisco - Day 9

2008-04-02T08:31:00.001+01:00

I had another slow and gentle day today as I felt I deserved it.

After breakfast I went out in search of the usual coffee and then took it back to the ballroom. Some of the Death Valley crew were sitting about and we all sat there chatting and reminiscing over the trip. We all agreed that it was a wonderful trip and the group of people we had made it ultra-enjoyable. We all decided to re-convene in the ballroom this evening after dinner (tonight was a free dinner night) and have a little re-union party. That agreed we all split up to attend to various things we had to do. Mine was; go out and find some lunch!

When I returned after lunch I was sitting about uploading my latest photographs when I encountered Neil an Everton supporter from Liverpool. He started chatting to me about the locality and any points of interest. We chatted about places visited for a while and as Neil had come from Las Vegas we exchanged notes on that. He had been there for the Hatton Mayweather fight but had to watch it on a big screen – which they charged for, of course – as it was sold out. We both agreed it was a “totally over the top” place and there could only be one Vegas because the world has no need for another! (One could argue there is no need for the first one as it is so obscenely wasteful.)

About 19:00 – dinner time in the ballroom – the old “Death Valley Club” re-convened for a social gathering. Having got food we all colonised a long table, beer and wine were produced and a thoroughly good time was had by all. After the food was finished we all cleared up and then more drinks were procured.

The whole thing developed into an impromptu party and I eventually crawled off to bed at about 2:00 to sleep very soundly.

San Francisco - Day 8

2008-04-02T08:23:00.000+01:00

We arrived back in pouring rain at about 7:15 am.
It was a bit strange waking up heading into a city – all the open view had gone! It might sound rather silly, but I was missing the desert.

The group of people, the majority, were staying at The Green Tortoise hostel, so some of the guys headed off from the bus station and the remainder all piled out at the hostel. I bid Seena and Paul farewell, and thanked them for making the trip such fun and a memorable experience.
We all formed a forlorn looking huddle in the reception area of the hostel whilst we got sorted out with rooms. During this time most of us grabbed the available breakfast of toasted bagels, coffee and juice.

When I had my room allocation I retrieved my bag from the storage room and proceeded to empty it onto the floor and sort out all my stuff. The first thing I generated was a large laundry pile and then repacked my main bag with rather pleasing efficiency.

As it was now mid-morning I decided to go in search of lunch and coffee. When I returned, mission accomplished, I decided to get my laundry out of the way. The laundry room is available after 14:00 as the hostel staff uses it for the hostel laundry during the morning.

As I was about to actually do my laundry I met a couple of my new roommates: Magnus, a Swiss guy who was travelling through the States and Andrew a guy from Bradford. Andrew was a bit of a giveaway as he was wearing an England football shirt. He could wear this with a modicum of pride as they had actually won a Euro qualifier game but we both agreed the lovely little prima donnas had to win ALL their remaining games to be sure of qualifying – this ridiculous “24 points from 30 should be enough” mentality is totally stupid, we want 30 points from 30 and then there is no doubt or waiting for other results to help you out! We shall see. Magnus could afford to be snug as Switzerland had already qualified through being joint host-nation with Austria. He very kindly did not rub it in though. As we were chatting our last roommate entered the dorm: JD (John by name) an American yoga instructor. He was en route to China to live where he will be teaching English (he speaks fluent Mandarin) and studying Chinese meditation techniques. I wished him the best of luck.
After chatting to these guys for a while I actually started my laundry off. I had a read whilst the wash cycle was going and then slung it all in the dryer. I had a small result with this as it already had credit on it and I didn’t need to feed it money – yippee!

After it was all done, folded up and put away (I was obviously feeling very domesticated at the time) I then had a sauna, shower and lay on my bed listening to some sounds. I did the usual wake up, get into bed and go back to sleep later – and dreamed of deserts.

Death Valley - Day 4

2008-02-16T04:07:00.002Z

Happy Birthday Christy.
I gazed out over the desert scene around us taking in as much of it as I could before we departed. I took some photographs knowing that they wouldn’t do the view full justice but might look impressive all the same.

After creating, devouring and clearing up breakfast we boarded the Green tortoise for our journey back to San Francisco. On the way we would have a couple of stops. The first of these was; Mosaic Canyon.

Mosaic Canyon is just outside Stovepipe Wells Village and one has a wonderful little “mini-hike” to get to the canyon proper. The whole place is made up of marble deposits in all hues and colours with some of the rock surfaces rough and others polished and very smooth. Imagine trying to climb up a marble table tipped on its side and you will get an idea of how slippery polished marble is.

Having got into the canyon there is another 2-3 Km hike through it before one can scale the sides. In order to do this one has to traverse a few very narrow ridges. This is where I discovered that I suffer from natural vertigo. I am fine on tall buildings especially ones which have been there for many years as I know they won’t fall down and they usually have hand and/or safety rails. Out here one has a sheer drop either side or if not a sheer drop then a drop down a shale slope which would remove copious amounts of flesh and/or break bones and then be bloody hard to bordering on the impossible to climb back up again! I made several attempts at crossing this particular ridge before giving in to the inevitable – I was not meant to cross it. No matter; having accepted this fact I could just sit down and take in the view which sadly the photographs do not do proper justice to.

As everyone else started coming back I retraced my steps out of the canyon and felt no shame at still being able to walk and having full control over all my limbs for the hike back. This was fun in itself as it required climbing up (or down) mini-chimneys, ducking or crawling under natural bridges or arches and generally completing an “It’s a Knockout” course without the crazy foam or having to burst balloons! (The natural equivalent of the “greasy pole” or “slippery slope” was provided by the polished marble.)
Having got back to the starting point I was once again grateful to my trusty hiking boots for their sterling performance.

Our last stop in Death Valley National Park was for a group photo and after this we were all exchanging email addresses as we trundled on to our last stop – a hot pool!
Having parked up at the end of a huge lot which catered for RVs we set about preparing our last supper. Once again the communal camp kitchen performed admirably and we all ate our fill. There was an added incentive to this as after clearing up we were at liberty to visit the hot pool. This is a large swimming pool geothermally heated from the nearby hot springs.
Before entering the pool visitors are requested to take a shower – a wonderful request for those of us who hadn’t seen one for three days! Having enjoyed a lovely hot shower, with soap, I felt clean enough to plunge into the small pool located next to the main large pool. This is the “hot pool” and being only a metre deep and 10x5 metres in area was like jumping into a hot bath – it was lovely!

Having played about in the pools for a while it was a treat to get dried and into some clean clothes, after which it was back on the bus – now in sleeper mode – for the final leg of the journey back to San Francisco.

I settled down on the padded area at the back of the bus wrapped in my sleeping bag and feeling warm and clean fell into a peaceful sleep.

Death Valley - Day 3

2008-02-16T03:56:00.002Z

Today most people were reflecting on the depth of temperature the previous night. The general consensus was “bloody freezing”, especially from the people who were in tents.

After breakfast we all climbed aboard the “magic bus” and headed for Ubehebe Crater. In fact there are two craters – Greater and Lesser Ubehebe – no prizes for guessing that one is bigger than the other. From where the bus dropped us off there is a short hike up to the top of the rim of Greater Ubebhebe and when one gets there it is most impressive. These craters were actually caused by an eruption of rock, as opposed to impact from meteors, and when one looks down into the larger one it does induce a feeling of vertigo. If one desires it is possible to hike down to the bottom of the crater and back again but I rejected this as the surface is loose sand and scree and getting back out again is a rather demanding challenge so I settled for walking around the rim.

On my rim walk I had Marcos as a companion. This guy was the life and soul of the party on our trip. He is a Spaniard with a typical dark Mediterranean look and was a great hit with the ladies and was travelling with Rea – a young lady from Cornwall who was great fun – as far as San Francisco before she headed off to LA. We got chatting about all sorts of things and got deeply into things spiritual and natural – not that silly made up religious stuff but things in line with the true spiritual races like the Native American Indians and Australian Aborigines. Walking around this huge crater makes one realise the true insignificance of man when compared to nature especially when one is surrounded by it! The views all around were stunning and big, i.e. where the sky meets the land is a long way away and one can have an uninterrupted view to the horizon. If this doesn’t make sense; go there and see for yourself it will become much clearer then. As one walks around the crater one gets wonderful views of the Last Chance Range and the Grapevine Mountains and if these don’t make you feel humble then you are an arsehole earning too much money, driving a large 16 and in severe need of ego deflation therapy! (You also probably think designer rip-off articles are worth the money! Get help before it is too late!)
After completing our circuit we boarded the bus and headed for our next destination; the Stovepipe Wells Sand Dunes.

When we got to our stopping point the dunes were clearly visible about 2-3 kilometres away and looked like a sea modelled in sand. The dunes form the waves – and do constantly shift – and the troughs in between are deeper than they look. In fact the whole thing about Death Valley, and the desert in general, is that it throws up a whole host of illusions and distance is very hard to judge unless one is experienced in desert-craft.

After the initial trek over rough ground between scattered scrub bushes one gets to the sand proper. This is fine and densely packed where it lies on a level. When it rears up into a dune it becomes soft and yielding, hence small dunes are just as hard to climb as a large one. The large dunes are of course firm and hard at the bottom where the sand is compressed but as one gets to the top the sand is loose and prone to slide very easily so the trick is to get some momentum running up the lower slope and then keep it going to the top finishing up with big wading steps. Warning; if you stop near the top, dig in and, if necessary, throw yourself flat against the dune because if you start sliding you’ll end up very near the bottom again! This is not only rather annoying it is also very exhausting and will consume a lot of your water.

Having gained the top of a very large dune I was quite content to walk along its crest and just look out over the rest of the dunes rolling into the distance. Some of the “youngsters” were playing Frisbee in one of the troughs and hurling the thing huge distances to each other.
Most of us gathered on a couple of crests to watch the sunset which was quite spectacular and then we started heading back to the bus. Apart from our appointed time to return we were all aware of how quickly the light would fade and how quickly the temperature would drop once the sun had set.

Another wonderful experience I will remember for the rest of my life was “sand surfing or skiing”. It is possible to just throw yourself off the top of a sand dune and roll down it or body surf down it. I didn’t want to do this as I didn’t want to eat a kilo of sand so I opted for the skiing method. I had removed my footwear as soon as I had got onto the proper sand as one just has to be barefoot to appreciate the temperature difference in the sand itself. On top it is hot to bloody hot, depending on how exposed it is and how baked it has been. Beneath the surface it is cool and one can bury ones feet in it and they will be quite comfortable. Dune skiing, in my opinion, has to be done barefoot. It is really exhilarating to be able to “ski” in giant strides down the side of a sand dune and makes the effort of climbing one worthwhile.
Having “skied” down all the sand dunes on the way back I replaced my footwear for the last stretch back to the bus. By this time it was heavy dusk and I could easily appreciate how people could get lost very easily without a light as a point of reference as the dunes and scrub bushes just intensified the dusk with their shadows. No one got lost or injured and we all returned safely and eager for dinner.

Once back at the campsite we set about food preparation in earnest and soon had dinner prepared with the aid of some cleverly mounted lights on the bus as it was fully dark by now.
After dinner was cleared away some people, not many, were going to make the hike to a nearby hotel where they could shower and use the pool. Along with the majority – especially when we found out the pool was of the outdoor variety - I declined this offer as I didn’t want to get chilled or cold. I could still remember how bloody cold it was last night and I was comfortably encased in my hoodie and coat and quite warm enough thank you very much (still wished I’d brought my gloves though) and didn’t want to disturb this delicate equilibrium.

The people remaining all congregated around the fire, once we’d got it going, and the laugh of the night became Rea. She had wandered round the camp asking if anyone wanted anything from the local store – about a 20 minute walk away – as she was going to it. About two hours later she came and asked me again if I wanted anything from the store. I along with everyone else nearby all exclaimed that she asked us that two hours ago and questioned why she hadn’t gone yet! It was all done good naturedly as it was very easy to get chatting to various people as they moved about the campsite and to and from the fire. Eventually she went and when she returned we all asked her if she was going to the store and/or could she get... when she went to the store. It was one of those things where it was funnier to be there and Rea was a great laugh with a wicked sense of humour. The star of the show this night was John, an English guy who worked at the hostel. He was dispensing wonderful dry English humour which had me in stitches and passed over the heads of some of the more retarded Yanks. Paul, one of our drivers was pretty in tune with this and we had a great laugh whilst we sat about toasting marshmallows.

When the fire eventually died and we had nothing more to feed it with we all turned in for the night which was a damn sight less cold than last night. I could easily tell it wasn’t as cold because I didn’t need to put my coat hood up – in fact I actually took my coat off just before I slid into my sleeping bag. I slept soundly that night.

Death Valley - Day 2

2008-02-13T23:25:00.004Z

We pulled into the campsite, which was very sparsely populated as it was “off-season”, and soon set about preparing breakfast. This was a group effort with everyone doing something to concoct a very good – surprisingly so for most people, me included – and filling breakfast. We also made our own lunch to take with us and were encouraged to fill any water bottles or containers we had for the hike.

After clearing and cleaning up we all boarded the bus – which had been “un-miracled” back into seats – and headed for our drop off point from which we would do our first hike.
The bus dropped us off at Zabriske Point and we would hike through to Golden Canyon where the bus would pick us up again.

The hike was wonderful, through a beautiful valley which was a river valley caught in stone. One can easily see what it was before the water went away – it is total rock and desert now – and I collared Eleanor to ask her questions about what we were looking at. I did keep checking to make sure she didn’t mind me playing amateur geologist with her and told her she only had to tell me to piss off when she had had enough. She was obviously too polite to do this and when we had a break for lunch I left her in peace. The place was amazing though, especially when one realises this used to be full of water, as it is real desert (as opposed to fake desert) with hot sun beating down onto the rocks and into the valleys and stealing any available moisture. I can testify to this as the backs of my hands and my lips were dry by the end of the day. I drank plenty of water on the hike and kept it to “little and often” rather than downing a litre in one go.
After getting back on the bus we were driven to our next location: Badwater Basin the lowest point in Death Valley and North America at 65.5m below sea level. This was quite different as it is a sunken valley which always has standing water in it – rather obviously as it is below sea level. After having a walk out on the salt flats we all boarded the bus and headed back to the campsite as the sun was setting.

Next came dinner preparation, which again was a group effort and was soon prepared. After dinner and clearing up we all congregated around the fire pit and got a camp fire going. This turned into a mini party with beers being produced and consumed. Some people had brought tents and would be camping out whilst the rest of us would be sleeping on the bus. It also became very apparent at how quickly the temperature drops and by how much – it was getting very cold.

The temperature dropped so much that I had donned all my layers: t-shirt, sweatshirt, hoodie, hat and jacket. I also wished I had brought my thermal gloves as my hands and face were the only things left exposed. It got so cold that the only thing I removed before crawling into my sleeping bag was my boots!

I do not know what the actual temperature dropped to during the night but it certainly felt below freezing in any temperature scale. I did have to get up in the early hours of the morning in order to have a wee. I did briefly consider not bothering to get up as it would create some warmth, but realised that any liquid in this environment would cool and more likely freeze so I did get up.

Death Valley - Day 1

2008-02-13T23:21:00.001Z

I spent the day at the hostel only popping out to get some lunch. I caught up on some more of my travel journal, downloaded the latest photographs from my camera and organised all my photographs so far into separate folders for the places I had been so far. I felt rather pleased with myself that I had caught up with everything as I would have to rely on memory and written notes for the next four days.

When they started to prepare the evening meal I packed up, stashed my bag that I was leaving behind in the storage room, and joined the group going on the trip in the reception area. Quite a few of them were getting taxis down to the bus station where we would pick up the Green Tortoise “magic bus”.

There were four of us left and a seeming absence of free taxis so I was all in favour of walking especially as it wasn’t far anyway. We set off and I started chatting to Eleanor, a Welsh girl who was living in Leeds and finishing a degree in geology. I made the observation that this should be an interesting trip for her.

We found the bus station with no real difficulty and found the place we had to be with just a little more. Other people joined the little group who had come from the Green Tortoise hostel and we all awaited the arrival of the bus. As is the case we got chatting amongst ourselves and introductions were made.

The Green Tortoise arrived and we all got checked on by our drivers/hosts Seena and Paul. Our luggage was all stored in the luggage lockers as space on the bus was at a premium. When I got on I realised why, this was a sleeper bus which had a large cushioned area at the back, two sections of bench seats and tables and two bench seats at the front. We all found somewhere to sit and off we went through the rain which had started falling on San Francisco.

We would be driving overnight to arrive at our campsite in Death Valley tomorrow morning for breakfast. There would be one stop on the way for the purchasing of snacks, beverages and anything else one might have forgotten and visiting toilets – although there was one on the bus it was recommended to use this only in an emergency as it was just like the ones on Greyhound buses; i.e. a bucket of chemicals plus whatever one deposits in it, and after three days it would be rather full if used by everyone regularly!

During the stop “the miracle” was worked on the bus, and what a miracle it was. This converted all the tables and bench seats into bed spaces and the luggage racks formed top bunks. I very fortunately claimed one of the “bottom bunks” which was under what used to be a table. This, in hindsight, was a very good choice as it was low and didn’t suffer much shaking about when the bus was travelling over less than smooth surfaces. I got a pretty good sleep and awoke to bright sunshine as we were approaching Death Valley itself.

San Fransisco - Day 7

2008-02-13T23:10:00.001Z

First thing after breakfast I booked my trip to Death Valley. I took the option of hiring a sleeping bag – as I hadn’t brought one with me (for space reasons alone) – and got all the details for the trip. They supplied me with a very useful “things to take” list so I set about purchasing the very few items I didn’t already have. I also took the precaution of buying some more batteries for my camera as there would not be any facilities for recharging my rechargeable ones. Then I went in search of coffee and had a walk down to the pyramid shaped building to find out exactly what it is called – The Transamerica Pyramid – so now we all know.

Still in Zeppelin mode I returned to the hostel and sat on the steps alongside it listening to the rest of “The BBC Sessions” in the warm California sunshine. This is another gem I must listen to more often as one can hear things taking shape on it, with many promises of the “Shapes of Things” to come! (A little in joke about The Yardbirds mother.) It also has a lovely introduction, by the much missed and totally wonderful John Peel, to the “Peel Sessions” tracks.
When it was finished I thought it would be best to get everything ready, so I returned to my dorm and packed my rucksack. I opted for the big rucksack as I could get everything I wanted into it quite comfortably.

Knowing it would be cold in the desert when the sun went down I packed my hoodie and woolly hat, I will wear my waterproof jacket so I hope I have all the bases covered. Having finished packing everything I was going to take with me, I headed for the ballroom and caught up with some more travel log.

As it had got to evening time I packed up and then went out for something to eat. After this I felt rather tired so I returned to the hostel had a sauna and shower and just lay on my bed listening to music.

I woke up several hours later, got into bed and went back to sleep.

San Francisco - Day 6

2008-02-13T22:57:00.003Z

Having had a good sleep, I awoke refreshed and recharged. I thought I would do some more exploring in a different part of downtown San Francisco.

Having got to Union Square I rewarded myself with a coffee and then set off towards Golden Gate Park – or Golden Gate golf course as I renamed it as it seemed to be one long golf course. I believe it was George Bernard Shaw who described the game of golf as a good walk ruined, but I could be wrong. It isn’t the game I detest so much it is the sad deluded idiots who take it so seriously that they have to dress as pimps, prats or prostitutes to play it and then pretend that anything which happens on a golf course actually means something in the great scheme of life. Never mind, I left them to their pursuits and headed off back into downtown.

Taking a different route back I found myself in the Nob Hill area and ended up walking to the top of Nob Hill. The last part was almost achieved on all fours as the bloody thing is so steep – I mean really steep – that one doesn’t walk up it, but one climbs it! By the time I got to the top I just wanted to plant a flag and pose for photographs. When I looked back down it I felt a real sense of achievement at getting here without oxygen, crampons or pitons – or a team of Sherpas!

Having recovered I decided to check the map for nearby attractions. Ah-ha the Cable Car Museum is not far from here, and it is downhill (what isn’t from the top of Nob Hill?). I will head for it.

This place was a little treasure and free to enter. It isn’t just a museum; it is the powerhouse of the San Francisco cable car system – literally, as it houses the winch engines which drive the whole system – all four lines. I spent a couple of hours wandering around it absorbing interesting facts and watching the big wheels spin.

The cables travel at a constant 9.5 mph and there is a very interesting exhibit showing how they are repaired and/or replaced during the night when the cable cars don’t run.

The gripper pads are made of cedar – which is why one can often smell a lovely aroma from the cars themselves – as it doesn’t produce oily sap thereby allowing a good grip on the cable. I will not go on further as this will only be of interest to train spotters.

After leaving the museum I grabbed something to eat and then headed back to the hostel.
I had been mulling it over in my head on the way back to the hostel and reached the decision that I would go on the Green Tortoise Death Valley trip. I made enquiries at the main desk and the very helpful young lady gave me all the details but couldn’t take my booking as that is done by the travel office – behind the main desk – and that was shut for the day, however, it will be open in the morning. I will return!

I settled for a sauna, shower and bed.

San Francisco - Day 5

2008-01-30T06:23:00.000Z

I had decided to visit Alcatraz today and it seemed that I had made a good choice as the day was bright and sunny with clear skies. I wasn’t daft though because I knew it would be much cooler in the middle of San Francisco Bay and so I wore my big coat and packed my sweatshirt in my backpack.

Suitably prepared I set off for Pier 33 where the Alcatraz tours run from.

My timing was pretty good as I got there with fifteen minutes to spare, so by the time I had got my ticket and joined the queue it was beginning to move.
The ferries are quite large and have on deck and below deck seating. I chose to sit “up top” for the journey out as it was nice and bright, but I did have my hat on, my coat done up and the hood up over my hat. The wind coming off the bay was rather sharp and had a nasty way of numbing any exposed flesh it could get to.

The journey to the island takes about half an hour and one can get some good views of the bay and the San Francisco skyline. I tried to put myself in the mindset of a prisoner being brought here as I watched the city get smaller and the island get closer and bigger. All the promotional literature about Alcatraz always quotes Rule 5: “You are entitled to food, shelter and basic medical care. Everything else is a privilege.” If any prisoners didn’t know or understand the meaning of the word then they must have soon learned, especially as any form of rule infringement would cost him (it was an all male prison) all or some of any privilege/s earned. I have to admit the place does look rather daunting as one gets closer to it. I was just glad I knew I had the luxury of being able to get a ferry back – the very next one if I desired!

Having landed at the dock one is free to view the introductory film and some exhibits covering the prison staff, the prisoners and the occupiers! The occupiers were Native Americans who occupied the island to claim it for “The Indian Nation and All Tribes” which had a great unifying effect on all the Indian tribes and they occupied the place for 18 months or more gaining huge public support. One of the items in this part of the exhibit is an interview with one of the organisers. In the interview he is asked what his main enduring memory of Alcatraz was. His answer is very short and succinct; “being cold” he said. This I can believe very easily as the island sits in the middle of San Francisco Bay and the wind off the water is ever present and has nasty sharp teeth to it. On the day I was there it was bright and sunny but I never took my coat off. If I stood in the sun I was in the wind and that negated any warming effect the sunshine had. If I stood in a sheltered spot it was out of the direct sunshine and negated any warming effect – so basically it was a no-win situation.

The audio tour around the cellblock is narrated by former inmates and guards at the prison and is most informative and very well done. It also covers the “great escape” in which three people disappeared from the island – no bodies were ever found and none of them were ever recaptured – see Clint Eastwood’s “Escape from Alcatraz” for what might have happened.
Having walked around the whole island I headed for the dock to catch the ferry.

Having returned to the mainland I decided to eat and headed for Pier 39. I opted for Baba Gump’s as I wanted to try one of their shrimp dishes.

Yes, the whole place is themed on Forrest Gump and this one had loads of backstage shots and photos of the places used in the film – like Forrest’s house – and details of their locations. The food was very good and the shrimps in my starter were two bites big, unless you have a big mouth. Having managed to demolish three courses I left Pier 39 and headed for the hostel.
Having waddled back to Broadway I got to my dorm and felt completely knackered. Thinking; “what the hell, I feel really tired” I was in bed by 9:30 and soundly asleep shortly after.

San Francisco - Day 4

2008-01-22T04:30:00.000Z

Coite Tower

The view from the top

Lombard Street with Coite Tower & Telegraph Hill in the background

Well today started interestingly. After a slow start I decided to get to the post office to post off some more scrap book fodder to Mother’s. Programming a playlist of Living Colour and Led Zeppelin (of course – the Gods of Rock would have played their gig by now) live albums I donned my shades – bright and sunny here in San Francisco – and hit the streets.

It is only a few blocks round the corner to Washington Park and the post office is right opposite. I had got to the first corner, where I “make a left”, and this guy standing on the corner goes all rigid and falls over right in front of me trembling from head to toe. Not being American I did not step over him but immediately went to help. My extensive medical training (Boy Scouts First Aid badge and St. John First Aid) [for those of you having an “American moment”: yes – I am taking the piss] told me this guy was having an epileptic fit (petit mal was my diagnosis). Realising there is nothing one can do for this apart from make the poor soul a bit more comfortable I remembered my ABC – didn’t put my fingers in his mouth (I had no gloves anyway) and when he started foaming gently from the mouth put him in the recovery position, put his news paper under his head and then looked up. Three ladies had stopped, one was calling 911 and another was joining me kneeling on the sidewalk asking if I knew him. “No, I was just passing.” I said. Within five minutes (probably more like three) two fire engines arrived, one cleared off when the scene had been appraised, and two paramedics leapt out armed with a variety of bags. (The Fire Department run the ambulances – the public ones – and all fire crews contain paramedics. It appears to be a very good system.) Realising I was superfluous to requirements I took my leave. As I was doing so the guy was returning to consciousness and looking very confused. The remainder of my journey to the post office was quite normal.

I decided to head for Coit Tower today. This is a tower built from a legacy by Mrs. Coit to her beloved San Francisco. It stands at the top of Telegraph Hill and commands some amazing views of the city and the bay. To get to the top one takes an elevator (it does have stairs but they were shut) and the reason I mention this is for reasons of ridicule.

Having purchased a ticket from the gift shop (aaaah aaah) one takes it round to the lift door and presses the button to summon the lift (I’m sure everyone is with me so far). The lift arrives and the lift operator takes one’s ticket, punches a hole in it and invites one into the lift. Once the lift is full (depending on how many people are waiting) the operator pushes the button to close the door and then pushes the top button to get the lift to rise to the top of the tower. As we journeyed upwards I was looking round the lift at the pictures and notices on the walls – pretty, informative, that sort of stuff – when I noticed it! Stuck on the lift wall next to the doors was a sign reading... (you’ve probably guessed it) TIPS underneath which was a plastic wallet folder for collecting them! When I saw this I had to bite my cheek to stop myself from laughing out loud. There was money in it so I assume other people thought that the operator pressed the buttons with a degree of panache and skill which was beyond the average customer! Needless to say I did not add to it and merely thanked the guy on the way out.

Having walked all the way around the tower taking pictures as I went I decided I would walk up “the most crooked street”, which can be seen from the tower. This is actually part of Lombard Street which drops a good 50 metres in a very short distance and the road zigzags its way down it. It is a one-way street and one can only go down it.

Having descended the tower – no tip for gravity – that is exactly what I did. Fortunately the pavement (sidewalk) is actually a flight of steps which can be walked up in a straight line. It is a residential street and there were lots of tourists (myself included) wandering up and down it. I am not sure I would like to live in it with a steady parade of people going past all taking photographs; however it was quite a sight to see. Having got to the top of the hill I found I was about level with the top of Telegraph Hill!
Luckily enough there is a cable car stop at the top of the hill and one had stopped, so I got on. In comparative terms this is a very expensive form of transport – that is when compared to the buses – as it is a $5 flat fare; however it is novel and quite exciting especially when one goes downhill.

When I got back to the hostel I saw on the notice board that today one could get free admission to The Beat Museum. This was literally one block down Broadway from the hostel. I kicked myself for not noticing it sooner as I only had about an hour to look round it. It is dedicated to “the Beat Generation” centring on Jack Kerouac and his journeys and exploits. I have to confess I haven’t read any of his work, but have vowed to correct this and believe that “On The Road” is the place to start. He has also written a book called “Big Sur” which is just down the road from here and is one of many National Parks nearby. I have promised myself I will read some Kerouac when I have finished my current book. To do this though I must put in some more reading time.

Having been “thrown out” of another museum I decided to eat and headed for Little Italy. I wanted to try “The Stinking Rose – a garlic restaurant” but every time I approached it was always full and appeared to be very popular. Never mind The Steppes of Rome had space, so in I went.
I had a lovely three course meal accompanied by some superb coffee and all served to me by a beautiful young lady. I could think of some more ways it could get better than this but that would just be fantasy – so I settled for a lovely meal and some radiant smiles.

Having eaten to satisfaction, I waddled back to the hostel. Feeling rather full I decided sitting up would be best, rather than lying down, so I got out the laptop and played a Supreme Commander skirmish. I am very pleased to say that I was victorious and felt a lot more comfortable afterwards – digestion having worked. I refrained from having “just one more” as I thought I would visit Alcatraz tomorrow if the weather is fine.

Having packed everything up I enquired about the sauna, which was free, so I treated myself to one and went to bed feeling all warm and relaxed and was asleep before the nightclubs really started going!

San Francisco - Day 3

2008-01-19T05:05:00.000Z

Today was a rest & recovery day, so I managed to catch up on some blog updates – although I haven’t posted them yet. I must finish all my DC entries and get them posted – then I can finish my Vegas ones.

I eventually stirred about 11:00 and crept up to the shower. That woke me up a little, at least enough to go in search of coffee.

Having procured coffee I returned to the hostel and set myself up in the ballroom and spent the majority of the day there writing up my blog entries.

As it was getting near to dinner time (today was one of the free dinner nights in the hostel) I decided to pack up and return to my room.

When I got there Toby – another of my roommates from England – had got himself a new toy. It was a small laptop running Linux – therefore requiring no software licence – and he was “over the moon” with it. He had originally gone to purchase a second external hard drive as he had all his photographs from his travels stored on a little pocket drive. He did get an external drive, plus the laptop, and all for a very reasonable price. He asked me if I would mind copying his photographs from his pocket drive to the external drive using my laptop. “Not at all” I said and so we connected the drives to my laptop and set the copy going. When he saw it would take two hours he was most apologetic, but I just laughed it off saying they were “Microsoft hours” – and could therefore be anything from 30 to 90 minutes long – and I was going to have dinner anyway so it could sit there and “do its thing” while we ate. We did and it did and when we returned it only had ten minutes remaining.

When it was all finished he connected up the hard drive and was very pleased to be able to see everything on it, and also have a backup of his precious data. This is a sentiment I share as I have two external USB drives I back everything up to (alternately, of course) as I am paranoid about losing all my travel data & photographs.

As I was knackered from being up most of the night before I rewarded myself with a sauna and bed.

San Francisco - Day 2

2008-01-19T04:48:00.000Z

I was up surprisingly early this morning and easily in time for breakfast.

Cat hadn’t managed to return, but Xavier had so I passed the comment that “The Cat obviously found some prey.” He said he wasn’t quite sure what happened but he was hoping for a result reversal tonight as tonight was “gay night” – last night had been “straight night”. I wished him a pleasant day and went off smiling.

I was on the street in bright sunshine with clear blue skies and it was very warm until I got in the shade nearer the bay and then the wind confiscated the warmth rather effectively. No matter as I had the magic coat which I either removed if it was warm and sunny or put on and/or did up if I was in the shade and the wind was blowing – DIY climate control!
I had only got a short way down Broadway when this woman approached me and introduced herself (I have forgotten the name she used) asked where I was from and my name, told me she was starting work next week (over there” – pointing to “The Garden of Eden” (clang) – as a stripper (clang clang) and offered me a good time for $20 (alarm bells off scale). Although the price was quite appealing I’m afraid the “lady” was not. She did give a good sales pitch saying she had prono movies, costumes, condoms and liked to have fun. (I was beginning to wish Xavier were with me so he could help me out of this mess.) I did my diplomatic best not to ask if the costumes came with full face masks and gently declined her very kind offer. She did say that if I changed my mind Room 308 at the Park Hotel (on Broadway, San Francisco) I was welcome to “come up and see her” – so if any readers are heading for San Fran and want to take advantage of this information; please tell her “Phil sent you” and then she might lift the obvious curse she must have put on me! As I was making my getaway she did shift tack and ask if I could donate $5 to her breakfast fund. I hit her with the “cashless and on cards” ploy but she was obviously one step ahead of me as she pointed over my shoulder and said “there’s a machine there” – which of course there was – “I’ll wait if you want, just $5 to get some breakfast.” I do at least catch up fast as I know ATMs only dispense $10 and $20 bills – so I just started chuckling; I had to admire her cunning and guile if nothing else. I just had to resort to lying then and said I was meeting someone at Coite Tower (I will probably go there tomorrow) and had to be going. With this I walked briskly away still chuckling and made sure I was a safe distance away before I let myself start laughing. Oh well Phil, you’re 49 years old and still got it enough to be approached by hookers! I allowed my ego to take whatever it wanted from this and carried on up the road still chuckling.

I was heading for the Museum of Modern Art, or SFMOMA as it is labelled – I will visit Coite Tower another day. They have a Olafur Eliasson exhibition on at the moment and I was keen to see it after being most impressed by his sun exhibit at Tate Modern.

My walk took me right through Chinatown which was thronged with people and full of sights, sounds, colours and smells – some pleasant and some not so. At the bottom, or top depending on which way one is heading, of Stockton Street is a Virgin Megastore and I went in more on autopilot than anything else. There were two reasons for this: 1) I love music, records and CDs (probably in that order) and 2) it was the first “real shop” I had seen – i.e. not one of those designer crap houses selling things I have no interest in whatsoever. However, imagine my joy and delight when I found the remastered version of The Song Remains The Same – including all the tracks they should have put on it first time around – and a Living Colour CD recorded live in New York in 1989 which I hadn’t got (note past tense)! I was back in Union Square happy as a pig in poo and it was only just afternoon! At least if I suffered the same fete with MOMA as I did in New York I would still be happy (plus I would try again tomorrow or in the week). I thought the shoe-shine pitch just outside the Starmucks next door summed up the spirit of America perfectly. They had several signs up which read: “Take a picture – pay $1”, “Like the jazz (playing on a boom box) – pay $1”, “Local information – pay $1” in short: god bless the American Dream and its pursuit. I felt like adding another sign saying “Do/don’t like our mercenary attitude – pay $1”, I feel quite sure they would have kept it up!

As I was strolling down the road with a coffee I encountered “the nutters”. The first was an idiot carrying a sign saying “Jesus Christ Loves You”, he grabbed my arm and said right in my face “Sir! Jesus Christ loves you!” I responded by pulling my arm free, fixing him with one of my laser-guided-missile-will-kill-on-impact looks and said “So does my Mother and she has done more to help me than Jesus Christ.” He looked suitably taken aback, and speechless, so I carried on walking feeling rather pleased with my speed of response. The next nutter was relatively harmless to humans as he was preaching to a row of pigeons lined up along the rail of the entrance to the BART station (San Fran’s underground system). I gave him a wide berth, just like everyone else was doing.

I had a little trouble locating SFMOMA as a “helpful” sign pointed in a misleading – or misinterpreted – direction and I ended up walking around it before getting to the entrance. This was no matter as I stood and listened to some blistering electric guitar playing blasting out of this second floor window above a closed down shop – No 667 to be precise – so I forgave the sign (or myself) for being misleading.

I got my ticket and went in only to be confronted by an electric fan suspended from the ceiling and whizzing about the lobby like a drunken pendulum (the theme will form later)! This was the first of Mr. Eliasson’s pieces and is called “Ventilator”. As there was only five minutes to wait I decided to do just that and join one of the public tours they have every hour.

Our guide Dan explained that the tours are designed to concentrate on one piece from every exhibition (most of them are permanent) and then leave the visitor to decide which they want to go back to in order to experience more. The tour started at the top – fifth – floor and worked its way down. We all got in the elevator (lift for English speakers) and went up to the fifth floor.
When we stepped out of the lift we were greeted by...

An uncomfortable yellow light, very strong especially given the white walls and ceiling it was reflected from. All colour was drained from everything, all clothes and faces looked pale and neutralised – Mr. Eliasson’s work – the experience was very odd. Our guide was throwing out questions to provoke responses from us all, which he got.
Having lingered here for a little while we went through “the time tunnel” which had a very open latticed floor and spanned the open space of the museum allowing a very long look down to the atrium floor!

We descended through two more floors viewing photographic and collage work from artist whose names I cannot remember but knew when I saw them. I have to apologise for my lack of memory over this as I am writing this retrospectively and have very cleverly sent the guide back to the UK along with a load of other “scrapbook fodder”. The pieces the guide picked out to show us were very evocative and I went back to view the galleries fully after the tour finished. The last floor contained some more work – the permanent exhibition – by Olafur Eliasson including the frozen BMW one had to walk into a freezer to view. Blankets were provided and I used one despite having my wonder jacket done up and my woolly hat on as the temperature was kept at a constant 26F!

I did work my way back up through the galleries making sure I had a good hour and a half to view the “Take Your Time” exhibition. Some of the installations were very simple and yet so effective – like the very fine water spray dropping from the ceiling with a single spotlight shining through it at an oblique angle. The effect as one walked around and through it ranged from a cloud to a rainbow just hanging in the room. This guy is a genius at creating images, illusions, altered perspectives and quite simply "fucking with your head". Some of the pieces could disorient one just by looking at them – astounding. If the exhibition comes anywhere near you I recommend making the effort to go and see it!

Having exhausted my time (got thrown out of another museum) I went in search of food as I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, nor felt the hunger which was obviously there until I hit the street.

When I got back to my room I got a bunch of “souvenir stuff” together to post back to Mother along with a book I had picked up for my mate Bruce. I was just writing a couple of short notes to go with the posted material when Cat and Xavier came in. They were heading for Castros (San Fran’s gay district) tonight so I wished Xavier “best of luck”. I was privileged to witness their double-act as they got ready and just spent the whole time laughing. I was rather flattered when they occasionally used me as a foil for their jokes and good natured jibes at each other. Eventually they were ready and they left. By the way: Stu, if you are reading this I have to let you know you will have to do a hell of a lot of work on your “gay dance” for it to ever be convincing to me again!

I finished my notes and got ready to listen to some sweet music.
Having ripped my latest acquisitions into MP3 format and transferred them to my Zen I was all set up for tomorrow’s walking trip accompanied by some good music. Anyone needing spiritual enlightenment and wanting to hear the Voice of God – listen to “Since I’ve Been Loving You” on the remastered Song Remains The Same CD set. The intro alone brings tears to my eyes and I have yet to hear a piece of music which moves me as much as this one. It further reinforces my opinion that Jimmy Page is the greatest guitar player alive today – and yes, that does include Les Paul! Vernon Reid would also rate in my top five (and he was born in England) as would Living Colour as a band – just listen to “Time’s Up” and count the timing changes.

As I just wanted to relax for a while, and there was no one else in the dorm I decided to play some more Civ4: i) because I think it is wonderful, and ii) one can select whatever music goes with it – so no prizes for guessing what I chose.

Having expanded my empire sufficiently and heard all my new music I decided to turn in for the night. Just before doing so I went to the toilet. On the way back I was surprised to see Cat & Xavier back.
“What are you doing back so soon?” I asked Cat, “and how come he didn’t pull wearing that jacket?” I added as I caught sight of Xavier sitting at one of the Internet terminals. (Xavier had this lovely powder blue crushed velvet jacket with same colour embroidery on the back. I use the term “lovely” advisedly.) The problem was he had gone out looking for a date rather than just “to pull”. He went off to hit the Internet computers in order to check their flight bookings – they were leaving tomorrow – and was then heading for bed. Cat was going to stay up as they were due to leave at 5:00 and i was now 2:00.

I very sportingly said I would stay up with her as long as I could before I fell asleep just to keep her company. After chatting for an hour or so about all manner of things (yes, politics did come into it) we ventured into the ballroom to see what was going on. This is where we encountered Adam & Brian two drunken blokes from England and Ireland respectively. They were playing pool and at the sight of Cat started going into “macho cockerel” mode.
We sat there watching and I introduced Cat to the many and varied derivations of the term “wanker” and explained that not all English or Irish men were, but alcohol usually has the magic effect of ensuring the state. This was when she got a wicked glint in her eye and I knew she was going to play. As an avid people watcher I was given a ring-side seat while she manipulated and toyed with these two idiots. There were times when I was literally crying with laughter watching a very confident woman play with two drunken males – like a Cat does with a mouse (or mice).

As I was nearly asleep by this time I had to bid Cat good night, or more properly good morning, and crawled off to bed.

I did hear Xavier get up – he was in the bunk above me – and so I surfaced long enough to say farewell to him, and Cat when she came into the dorm to collect her already packed bag, and wish them both a safe journey and best of luck in their life ventures. They wished me a good, safe and happy trip and off they went to the airport.

I crawled back into bed and went to sleep.

San Francisco - Day 1

2008-01-19T04:45:00.000Z

Well I have to say that in daylight the part of Broadway I am staying in isn’t as bad as I at first thought. It goes to show what a difference sunshine and blue skies can make to a place – even the sleazy end of downtown San Francisco.

After breakfast I headed down stairs to enjoy a cigarette on the steps and encountered other fellow lepers there. (Smoking is allowed in the ballroom between the hours of 21:00 and 04:00.) As usual amongst the outcasts conversations are struck up and introductions are made. I met Amber and Corrine, two girls from Hawaii who had been up to Vancouver and Seattle. They had stayed in the Green Tortoise there and so we started comparing notes and waxing lyrical about the staff. We all mentioned Mike, Miguel and Simone (who apparently is from Hawaii too) in our reminiscences and I promised to mention them in dispatches to Mike & Miguel when I emailed them later today. (I had told them I would stay in the GT in San Fran when I got here.) Having recounted stories and had a good laugh at our respective adventures in Seattle we urged anyone going there to stay in the Green Tortoise as it was loads of fun and very conveniently placed for everything one would want to see.

After parting company with my new acquaintances I headed into Little Italy in search of coffee. I thought this would be a sure fire bet as there are loads of cafes & restaurants to choose from and not a Starmucks in sight.

My usual orientation walk lasted the whole day. As one does in San Francisco one tries to avoid the really steep hills by taking a flatter route – which invariably means walking four times as far!
This was no matter as it took me down to the waterfront and along The Embarcadero which I walked along past all the piers. I made a note of Pier 33 which is where the Alcatraz tours/ferries operate from and Pier 39 which is famous for fish restaurants, entertainments – including a big carousel – and sea lions. The sea lions live on floating platforms off the left-hand side of the pier as one walks up it and they make a hell of a racket at dusk. Apparently the pier/harbour authorities were going to move them out but they are such an attraction for visitors they actually put down more rafts for them to bask on. They are smelly noisy buggers but quite sweet to watch just lazing about.

Having got as far as Fisherman’s Wharf and Hyde Street Pier it was getting dusk and starting to get chilly, so I decided to get something to eat and head back to the hostel.
two of my roommates entered. I had said “hello” to them before but we hadn’t actually exchanged introductions – until now.

They turned out to be Cat & Xavier (pronounced in the Spanish way as “Havier”) both Americans from Ohio. They were old college mates and obviously real good friends; in fact they were like a double-act. Cat was a predatory female and Xavier was a very good looking gay man. We went through the introductions and exchanges of places of origin and the “what brings you to San Francisco” process. Xavier is moving here to take a job and Cat came along to keep him company. Cat completely took me unawares when she said “Honey, I just gotta tell you, you really have got sexy legs. I couldn’t help admiring them this morning; I thought Harvey Keitel was in the room.” I instantly blushed and fell about laughing, although I was rather flattered and thanked her for the compliment.
We chatted for a while and had a good laugh. They both had good senses of humour and were genuinely nice people and instantly likeable. They were off out to a nightclub and so set about getting ready.

It really was an evening for meeting roommates, as a couple of guys came in and said “hello” and we got onto the usual questions of “where are you from/going?” and “where have you been?” These were Matt, from Michigan and Mike from Sydney. We all got involved in a three-way discussion about American foreign policy and involvement in illegal & immoral wars. (No I didn’t start it!) Matt echoed the same sentiments I had heard before from his fellow countrymen – that of total disagreement with his government’s actions. Having cleared the topic of world politics we then moved on to home politics and I raised the despicable capitalistic practice of tipping. This was a baton Mike took up too. Matt tried to do his best in justifying the unjustifiable, but we just shot him down in flames every time. The usual arguments are:-
The minimum wage in the US is very low and people rely on their tips. The response: that is not our problem but that of your labour movement to secure decent living wages for workers. It shouldn’t be up to customers to pay staff wages directly from tips.
If tips weren’t given then the cost of that would have to be reflected in the price of goods. The response: This would be more honest and then people would just pay the price – not expected to cough up what is in effect an additional tax of 10-20%. Effectively the customer is paying people for a job they are being paid for and just boosting the company owner’s profits!
The other point Mike & I made was that the tips were expected – regardless of the level of service – and this was plainly absurd. Matt did try to argue that gratuities weren’t expected but up to the customers’ discretion, but we just flattened his argument by stating that the only “discretion” the customer was expected to exercise was the level of tip! He had to concede that one. We all parted quite amicably to do various things – mine being my laundry.

Having completed the necessary evil of folding up my clean clothes I rewarded myself by going to bed.

Las Vegas to San Francisco

2008-01-03T03:21:00.000Z

I awoke unaided by alarms and was having breakfast by 9:00.

My plans, after check-out, were walk to the Convention Center and then get the monorail to MGM Grand. As this is virtually on top of the airport a cab couldn’t cost more than $10-15 and it should be easy to get one from there.

I got to the Convention Center and encountered lots of retarded people wearing costumes ranging from the silly to ridiculous and all topped off by big cowboy hats. Yes, the NFR was in town and I was glad I was leaving. The silly costumes weren’t just confined to the men, oh no, when it comes to looking retarded red-neck it is full on equal opportunities! (That goes for width and height too.)

I caught the monorail with no problem which was quick, efficient and, being elevated, offered some good views of the sprawl and glitz of Vegas. I got off at the MGM Grand (it is the last stop anyway) and proceeded through the casino – no surprise that one has to go through it to get anywhere!

As this is the venue for next Sunday’s Hatton v Mayweather fight there were plenty of vociferous “Hitman” supporters about. It was quite heartening to hear a bunch of British accents in evidence.

When I got to “the great outdoors” – remember the tip: head for “Main Lobby” – I joined a queue for taxis. As I was standing there one of the concierges came along the line announcing a shuttle to the airport for anyone who was wanting to get there. That will do me and at $6 I left the queue and joined the small group of people heading for the indicated mini-bus.

Having got to the airport in plenty of time I could relax a bit. I checked in and Jason, the man on the check-in desk, suddenly thrust his hand over the counter at me. I instinctively shook his hand and as I did he said “Happy Birthday Philip.” I was quite chuffed that he had noticed and thanked him for his wishes.

Having got rid of my luggage I then proceeded through security to the departure gate. After a bit of book reading the flight was called and we all embarked. The plane was an Airbus A320 and I have to say the most comfortable one I have ever been on. I don’t know if it is a special Virgin specification but all the seats are soft leather and have a full media service. OK so you have to pay for the films if you want to watch them – or have the time – but everything else is free. One can even order food and/or drinks from the on-screen menus. Being a simple soul; I was impressed. I opted for some more book reading and as the aircraft was only half full I had a whole row to myself – excellent no lard-arse gorging lump to encroach on my space!

I do regret not bothering to have my camera with me as I had chosen a window seat, and as the plane took off I had wonderful views of the Strip, Las Vegas and the surrounding mountains, especially when we banked over it.

The flight was smooth and uneventful (best thing for them really) and we landed at San Francisco International Airport in the rain! I thought this was a bit of an omen as the same thing had happened to me in Las Vegas, but I wasn’t deterred. Due to my recent haircut I was unable to get the flowers to stay in my hair – so I gave up.

I located the shuttle bus departure bay and headed for The Green Tortoise hostel. I would see if this one was as good as the one in Seattle.

When I got out of the shuttle bus, in the steady rain, I found I was in the heart of the porno district – oh yippee (ironic) – but I didn’t let that put me off. I checked in and fond the desk staff to be the usual friendly people who make you welcome and seem genuinely pleased to see you.

Having secured a map of downtown San Francisco I found the hostel was wonderfully located right next to Little Italy and Chinatown – so no end of choice for eating establishments. If I really felt the desire there were also three night clubs, several strip clubs, a few “movie” theatres and a host of sex toy shops to choose from – so it seemed that all forms of entertainment was covered within easy walking distance!

Having dumped my bags I then went out exploring in the rain. Trying to look my gayest to deter the guys outside the strip clubs from trying to convince me to come in I opted for a Chinese restaurant for food.

Having eaten my fill I returned to the hostel and relaxed in the ball room for a while before crawling into bed. As I was in the dorm at the front of the building I had a splendid view of Broadway out of the window. Fortunately the curtains were thick and blocked out all the light and one soon learns to ignore the sound of nightclubs, whose noise rises and falls like waves as the doors are opened and shut. I had no trouble getting to sleep and slept soundly until morning.

Las Vegas - Day 5

2008-01-03T03:14:00.000Z

A slow and relaxing day today, most of which was spent organising my flight to & hostel in San Francisco – as that is my next stop. I decided to stay at The Green Tortoise in San Francisco as I enjoyed the one in Seattle so much. Based on price and time of departure I opted for Virgin America as my carrier to San Francisco.

Having got all my travel and accommodation plans for the next leg sorted out I then turned to packing. This is always much easier with lots of space to do it in, so it didn’t take me long.

After all this work, I decided it was play time so I opted for seeing one of the shows.
Having looked at what was on offer I decided on Zumanity at New York New York. This is one of Cirque Du Soleil’s creations, one of two in Vegas at the moment. I opted for the 19:30 show so I could get an early night and be all refreshed for San Francisco tomorrow. The tickets were an odd price $73.90 (about £38) but I thought it would be worth it.

I was not wrong; the show was amazing with some exceedingly athletic, acrobatic and physical displays – it made me feel quite wooden just sitting and watching it!

I was out on the Strip by 21:30 and ambled back to my hotel. I had to spare a thought for the poor bastards who were going through the show again – yes, they do it twice nightly folks – especially when I was standing there watching the Bellagio fountains dancing to “Lord of the Dance”!

Although it might not seem I had done much today, I was quite pleased with what I had achieved and thus slept the sleep of the righteous.

I would urge anyone to go to Vegas who hasn’t been there before as there is certainly nowhere else like it on Earth – certainly not that I have witnessed – and the whole place is an experience to visit and see.

If I had to come up with one word to sum up Las Vegas it would be: obscene.

Not in the “sleazy hooker” sense (one just ignores the guys flicking cards advertising “whores to your door” – unless one is interested of course) but in the total waste of energy and resources the place exhibits. [Prostitution is actually illegal in Nevada. Go next door to Arizona where it isn’t!] A classic example of this is The Luxor. This huge pyramid, looking like it is made from black marble, apparently has enough floor space to house 7 (seven) jumbo jets and every night the top of the pyramid radiates a beam of light into the sky which can be seen from space. I can believe this because when I arrived in Vegas it was raining and the column of light just cut through the cloud! (Our tour guide told us the electricity bill for the light alone was $250,000 a week! I could believe this too having seen the thing.) I suppose it acts as a very handy navigation aid for aircraft; just head for the light and turn right!
The whole place is an illusion geared to “entertain” money out of one. Everything is over the top, larger than life, opulent, decadent, wasteful in the extreme, 24 hours a day and 7 days a week!

Having said that I have to confess to a certain fascination with the place and the people who visit it, it did intrigue me, and if I ever do a degree in psychology or psychiatry I would certainly come back to Las Vegas.

Las Vegas - Day 4

2007-12-31T22:47:00.001Z

The alarm performed admirably and awoke me at 4:15. I refrained from smashing it to bits as it isn’t mine!

I was up, showered, dressed and out in time to have a light breakfast before getting to Circus Circus and waiting for my pick up.

This was actually ten minutes early, so good job I was there twenty minutes before. Having picked up everyone from various locations down the Strip we headed out of Vegas and into the suburbs. Apparently LV now has two million residents and one can see where they are going. There are huge slabs of houses out in the desert with more being built. They look like large Lego constructs in big squares just side-by-side-by-side.

We got to cross the state border between Nevada and Arizona as we crossed the Hoover Dam – there is a time difference here but our tour guide asked us not to adjust our watches as we would be using Nevada time for all our time checks and rendezvous.

The first stop we had was in the Joshua tree forest. This is an amazing place as it is only one of two in the world where these Joshua trees grow, and, as the name implies, there is a forest of them! It was spectacular to see.

We changed coaches into a slightly more industrial one as we were taking a dirt road to the canyon. This was fun as it was like being on a roller coaster with suspension.

Our next stop was the Hualapai Nation passenger terminal. In other word a small airfield in the middle of nowhere from which all the helicopter and plane rides emanate. We were divided into groups of six – that’s how many the helicopter holds – and went out to wait by the pads. This is a very efficient operation as there are several helicopters running backwards & forwards either to the bottom of the canyon or flying people around it. Before long I was in one, strapped in and we were airborne. It has been many years since I was in a helicopter and I was surprised we weren’t issued with ear defenders, but then I discovered we didn’t need them as it was a damn sight quieter than I remembered (ah modern technology eh?) and I was easily able to have a raised voice conversation with the woman beside me.

The real exhilarating part of the journey was dropping over the edge and looking down! “Shit, that’s deep!” was my initial thought as I saw the ribbon of brown water below. This ribbon was the Colorado river and is a reddish brown from all the rock sediment in it. We descended into the canyon slowly and the pilot actually hovered alongside some of the more spectacular rock formations jutting out of the side. I was thrilled and grinning like an idiot (something I seem to be doing a lot of lately) as we got to the bottom and disembarked.

A short hike down a dort and rock path took us to a jetty and the boat. The boat ride was only about twenty minutes but gave one a stunning view of the canyon from the very bottom. Looking up at the sides made one feel very small – as most large natural wonders tend to do!
The return was just as exhilarating as the pilot took us out a different way and we got to see more different rock formations. It made me wish I’d taken a geology course at some point so I could better understand what I was seeing.

Having returned to the passenger terminal we boarded the coach to return to the rest of the group who hadn’t opted for the helicopter ride and to head for our lunch stop. We picked the remainder up at the Skywalk where we had a chance to get out and have a look but didn’t have enough time to go on it. I was not terribly sad at this and having spoken to people who went on it this has not changed. The Skywalk – which resembles a small building site jutting over the canyon – doesn’t seem to be as impressive as it sounds, and having seen it, and it doesn’t protrude over the canyon vary far at all – 75 feet I was told. The thing costs $45 for which one gets one pass over the arc, only the very tip part is actually glass one can see through. Patrons are not allowed to take: water, mobile ‘phones (always a good idea in my book) and cameras. One must wear protective overshoes (makes sense) and keep moving – no stopping, loitering or changing direction. All in all I didn’t feel I’d missed very much so I wasn’t upset that we didn’t have the time to do it as we’d had the helicopter ride.

Our lunch stop was at Hwal Bay Nyu Wa – the home of the Hualapai. This offered some wonderful views of the canyon, which after having eaten I then explored. I let Spank out of his bag in order to enjoy the view and he was most unimpressed by the lack of trees – he wanted to go back to the Joshua tree forest and play.

We all re-boarded the coach for the return journey which gave us a stop at the Hoover Dam and Lake Mead – that is the lake created by the dam. It was very poignant to note the calcium line behind the dam which represented the drop in water level over the last 15 years and measured 150 feet (they still use old money measurements here as I’ve said before) so it is not hard to “do the math” on that one. This drop has been caused by global warming and consumption. Vegas has cleaned up its act a little in that it uses all its grey water for all its water displays – of which there are hundreds. The other problem is the lack of rain and snow melt – most of which comes from the Rockies - feeding the Colorado.

Having returned to Las Vegas we were all dropped off at our respective pickup points at about 17:30.

As it had been rather a long day for me I grabbed something to eat on the way back to the hotel and headed for bed to dream of being a helicopter pilot.

Las Vegas - Day 3

2007-12-31T22:45:00.000Z

I decided to have a day of resting my feet today and also get some of the blog entries posted as I had fallen behind rather a lot.

I finished all the blog updates for New York and posted them – a handy thing about having a good Internet connection.

I also did some research into the Grand Canyon trips on offer and settled for a coach-helicopter-boat trip. This entails a coach taking one to an airfield, a helicopter flying one into the canyon and landing at the bottom where one gets in a boat for a trip up the Colorado river and back again (not its whole length) and then the helicopter picks one up and takes you back to the airfield. Having decided on this I then made use of the free local calls the hotel offers to book it. The shock came – not in the price because I knew that – in the pickup time at Circus Circus of 5:45. Right, I’ll set the alarm and ensure an early night. Circus Circus is only ten minutes dawdle or five minutes walk from where I am staying so no problem.

As I had spent most of the day closeted with my laptop I decided I would go out and make sure I have the right entrance for the morning pickup. There was no chance of getting that wrong because the entrance to Circus Circus is a huge canopy of lights – you can actually feel the heat from them – with a fake set of balloons in the middle of it looking like they might drop from above.

Whilst there I decided to partake of their buffet. Whilst it might not have been as wide ranging as Bellagio’s it was rather immense and, yet again, I was surprised at the quality of the food. The vegetables were obviously steamed and had to be cut or chewed, a mercy for me as I hate vegetables boiled to a pulp. The meat selection was just about everything and I opted for some roast beef from the carvery. This too was superb as it just melted in the mouth.

Mummy will be proud of me as I actually cleared my plate! This seemed to take the little clear-up man by surprise as he asked me if I was going back for more. “No thanks” I said, “I’ve had enough”. This is not the norm in these places as it seems the done thing is to take far too much and leave at least half a plate of food behind – more Vegas wasteful extravagance. I did select a lemon meringue for sweet which was so light I finished it and went back for blueberry pie and ice cream, which I finished too.

Now I can make some observations of the average American and their eating experience. I have observed during my travels, and especially in Vegas, that the tendency is to excess and beyond especially when given a free choice like a “eat all you want” buffet. Plates were mounded so high I expected to see a little flashing red light on top to warn off low flying aircraft, and two fat ugly lard arsed women actually selected two deserts each – and then went back for another two! There were times when I had to concentrate on my own plate for fear of being sick at other’s gluttony.

Another observation is the Americans inability to use two items of cutlery at the same time. I am not sure if this is a motor deficiency or hand/eye coordination problem but the idea is to just use a fork, rip lumps of food from the main pile and scoop them into a gaping maw. The fork is really just a tined shovel. If two items of cutlery are used then the fork is a spear, used to hold down whatever half an animal is being eaten, whilst the knife is used to slash it into lumps. When the slashing is finished the knife is discarded and the “fork shovelling” can then commence. This can be done whilst having a conversation either with real live companions or on a cancer ‘phone. I still cannot understand – nor shall I even try – why someone wants to make a ‘phone call whilst one is eating. I just find the practice quite revolting and get those Judge Dredd feelings again; whereby I want to pass summary trial and execution of the perpetrator.

Having eaten my fill and left nothing behind I had a gentle waddle back to my hotel and fell into bed.

Las Veas - 2

2007-12-31T22:40:00.000Z

Today was bright and sunny when I awoke so I thought I’d better get out there and hide from it. I treated myself to a haircut – battery clippers worked fine – and went in search of breakfast. There is a diner just round the corner from the motel, right on the Strip in fact, but it was full by the time I got there at 9:30 and people were queuing up to get in. Bugger that for a game of soldiers I wanted to get on with my day, so I walked a bit further down the road to another restaurant/diner. As there is only one of me, and I didn’t mind sitting at the bar, I got to sit down straight away. I had steak & eggs for breakfast along with toast, coffee and orange juice – lovely – and the whole lot came to less than $20. Suitably fuelled I was back on the street.
I retraced my steps back past the motel and down to The Hilton – scene of the Elvis residency – home of The Star Trek Experience!

I am unashamedly “a Trekkie”. I fell in love with Star Trek because I have an imagination and felt I could see a vision and an ethic in it. I am also a big Gene Roddenberry fan. The man was simply a genius and a very clever one. Having seen interviews with him I can also prove myself right; there is an ethic and a vision in it and Gene Roddenberry was the one to give it light and air. Simply put the idea is of humans living and working together. My belief is that the next proper and progressive revolution will be when people begin to think of themselves as humans first before polluting themselves with national, political, ethnical or religious dogma. When that happens a lot of problems will go away – because we are all human.

I digress. Getting back to the genius of Gene Roddenberry; he managed to create a “wagon train to the stars” as he put it containing a representation of humankind including Russian, Japanese, Scottish, American (of course), and African people and actually had the temerity to make the African a woman! This might sound rather boring but one has to remember and put into context the time he was doing this – mid 1960s – and the conditions which prevailed in “The Home of the Brave and Land of the Free” where he was doing it. I explained the same to Doug and Jonah back in Seattle and they both expressed enlightenment as they were too young to know what it was like in 1960s America (because they hadn’t been born) – and they obviously don’t teach that with pride in grade school.

1960's America was probably one of, if not the, most repressive societies on Earth. Freedom of speech was only allowed if you were saying what the government wanted or allowed one to say and certainly not if one was black. The country still practiced segregation and McCarthyism was still alive and persecuting people. This was the time of very hot Cold War and the Cuban missile crisis was barely over. On this cesspool Gene Roddenberry dared to float a boat of hope, and did it very cleverly in my opinion. Oh, I forgot to mention the high degree of censorship being exercised in all the US media at the time – GR managed to circumnavigate this too!

He very cleverly made the man in charge; the Captain – James T Kirk of legend – an American (of course) and got a big tick in the box for that. To deflect any follow up to that one he made the First Officer an alien – the Vulcan Mr Spock – thus distancing or insulating the rest of the bridge crew from the American man in charge. (I keep pointing out the “man in charge” because women, even white ones, where very much “kitchen items” and didn’t have the same rights as men. They couldn’t have bank accounts in those days – their husbands had them instead.) The rest of the bridge crew were made up of a Japanese man (remember Pearl Harbour), a Russian man (remember Cuba and the fact they are “god dam Commies”), a Scotsman (that was safe as an engineer), another American as the doctor (that was ok because he was a good ol’ southern farm boy) and... wait for it... a black woman! Bloody hell the last was a bit hard to swallow but GR sold it to the censors as a representation of humankind in space, the United Federation of Planets was what it said on the tin – a federation of planets, not nations because people where thinking beyond nationhood. I think GR shamed the censors into looking at a far bigger picture than their tiny minds were capable of – so all they saw was an American (white man – tick box) in charge with an alien (does not compute, do not understand) as second in command – who was cleverly described as the science officer – a good old home boy doctor (white man – tick another box) and “the rest of the crew” who were predominantly white men (tick a few more boxes – but query the Russkie & the Jap) - oh alright we’ll let it pass, but we’re still not too sure about a black woman, but at least the man in charge is a man, white and American. [If the last sentence seems disjointed – good! I was trying to convey that very effect as being my interpretation of how a dysfunctional censors mind might work.]

So in all this oppression and repression GR dared to create a ship of hope called Enterprise. This was the flagship of what became the Star Trek legacy and that has continued to examine the human condition through all its manifestations from The Original Series, The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager and Enterprise.

Another person who deserves an honourable mention is a former Vegas resident with the foresight and vision, not to mention faith, to actually come up with the money - Lucille Ball. The original series of Star Trek was made at the Desilu Studios and first aired in September 1966 – just after the one and only time (ever) England won the FIFA World Cup!

Now that I’ve sent everyone to sleep with a condensed philosophical history lesson, I’ll tell you about my day.

I spent the whole day in the Star Trek Experience reading every dot and comma, studying all the Trek artefacts, and going through the “Borg Invasion” and “Klingon Uprising” experiences several times each. I was happy as a pig in poo!

I also took the behind the scenes tour which showed how they generate all the special effects one goes through and that was fascinating. The actors playing the parts are all actors (as in real ones) who work up their own back stories to their characters. The people not only play parts in the scenarios they also stroll around “Quark’s Bar” which is the restaurant/bar just outside the main exhibition. I had very interesting conversations with a Klingon and a Ferengi whilst I was eating there.

Having exhausted myself and the exhibition I made my way back to my quarters on Hotel Enterprise and signed off for the day.
[This is proof that not all sad bastards cause people harm!]

Las Vegas - Day 1

2007-12-31T22:32:00.000Z

Although I didn’t mean to I spent the whole day “walking the Strip”. I will explain.

The day was bright and sunny when I arose and I was on the streets by 10:00. I took my “super coat”, just in case, and whilst I was strolling about thought I might have overdone it on the coat front. I am in the desert though – although Vegas doesn’t give one that impression whilst you are in it – and if I am wandering about after sunset it will get cold.

My hotel is located near the north end of the Strip and as I’d already walked up to Stratosphere last night I headed south to take in the rest of the “resorts”. They are called such because not only are they huge hotels – I think the smallest has 600 rooms – they also house casinos (of course) and at least one theatre and/or auditorium (where all the paying shows are performed) a buffet restaurant, a fine dining restaurant and a snack/fast food restaurant (there may be multiples of any or all of these). In addition to these one will find a stack of shite shops (selling designer rubbish to made in China souvenir rubbish) a pool, spa, and an assortment of “tart up places” where one can top up the Botox if one’s face isn’t totally paralysed.

I can also confirm all the other things one has heard about these places. They do not have windows, clocks or exit signs – if you want to find the way out head for “Main Lobby” or “Las Vegas Blvd” and don’t forget to take a compass and make a map as you go! If one is at a table and playing virtually all drinks are “complimentary”. (I put the term in inverted commas because, of course, one is paying for them whilst playing!) The slot machines do have slots – BUT, they only accept “gaming cards” the ones victims get for staying in the hotel which have $50-100 credit on them (note: “credits must be played and cannot be cashed” – the signs tell one that if you read them), credit cards or notes – any from $1-100 bills are accepted. Don’t bother trying to find a coin slot – they don’t exist! The slot games can range from 1 cent to $5 a spin – how lucky do you feel, punk?

I have to confess I was fascinated by the whole thing – it was a revolted, morbid fascination, but I did find it fascinating. As people who know me will already know, I love people watching. This is an old hobby of mine and I can now say I have “discovered” a new breed of people – moronis totalus spasticus, with a sub-species of cretinous gambalus. It was the best anthropological study I have ever experienced. It also gave me a wonderful pot-pouri of emotions: fascination, intrigue, amusement, revulsion and disgust. I was trying to think of a drug which might induce all these sensations at once, but I have never encountered it, so I will just have to call it LV. [Hey man, wanna score some wicked LV? It will keep you intrigued all day!]

All the “resorts” are decorated in lavish opulent style – all fake and plastic mostly – with the emphasis on “over the top”. Everything in Vegas is over the top. Gaudy, flash, excessive, ludicrous, wasteful, illusional, false would also do. But I still have to say I was amazed and fascinated by it at the same time.

As I was on my way down the Strip I did walk through the “Miracle Mile”. This might be a mile long (I neither know nor care) and the miracle was I got through it without killing, maiming or otherwise harming any of the vacuous fools flocking to it – I count myself a vacuous fool for bothering to have a look. It is full of all the shite I deplore and empty-headed women and vain pretentious men all love, yes it is the home of designer rip-off houses. Things like GAP (in the cerebral hemispheres required), Armani (and Legani is what it will cost you), Lacoste (is very overinflated), FCUK (will make you appear a total CNUT – thanks to Andy Hamilton for that one), Tommy Hilfiger (I’ll just stitch letters spelling my name on an ordinary garment and quadruple the price), Victoria’s Secret (is it is just ordinary made in China stuff with a silly price tag on), and I could go on but it is a waste of typing and wear and tear on my fingertips.
Needless to say the whole place is a 24 hour front geared to sham, illusion and entertainment (oh by the way, it will alos be taking money off you at the same time!

I could go into a blow by blow account of every resort I visited, but I won’t because without seeing it one cannot appreciate the scale and excess of the place without seeing it. One example; Paris Las Vegas actually bought a pavement (sidewalk) from the city of Paris in France (where it really is for those geographically challenged) and shipped it to their resort so they can claim to have “a bit of real Paris” for visitors to enjoy! Oh and the Hilton, or Trump Tower or one of those with gold windows actually has the windows plated with 18 carat gold leaf!

The free shows which these resorts put on every night are quite amazing and, of course, totally over the top. The Treasure Island show was temporarily shut for maintenance so I didn’t get to see the pirate ship sink, but the one which really impressed me was the dancing fountains outside Bellagio’s. These were superb as accompaniment was from a sound system which Pink Floyd wouldn’t have refused to use and the fountains (huge geysers of water) were lit from beneath and the sides so they did appear to dance. The tallest of them was shooting water 30 metres into the air and the crack the water made when it hit the surface again was both timed to punctuate the music and sounded like a battery of fireworks going off. I was very impressed with the show but couldn’t help wondering at the waste of energy and resources which went into making it. Having said that it is the one I went back and saw three times – score 10 hypocrite points for Phil.

I did avail myself of the buffet at Bellagio’s which was superb and had a choice of... just about everything!

When I returned to my hotel I thought my feet must be bleeding in my socks because they hurt so much! They weren’t, but they did appreciate me sticking them under a cold shower.
As I was knackered by this time I just switched on the TV for some mindless entertainment and got some news. (Remember “news” in America is American News – if you want “rest of world” watch BBC News 24) I heard the announcement that Evel Knievel had died and felt a pang of sadness at the passing of another icon – mad bastard though he may have been. Apparently he tried to jump the statues at Caesar’s Palace in Vegas (why?) but failed when he clipped one of them.

Having now reached a state of total exhaustion I fell into bed wondering what Vegas would bring me tomorrow.

Washington D.C. to Las Vegas

2007-12-14T01:19:00.000Z

I awoke just before the trusty alarm clock made any noise so I didn’t disturb anyone. I had set the alarm for 4:45 and as it was 4:30 I thought it best to get up than try and steal the extra fifteen minutes. I showered and dressed and packed the last few remaining bits (being an ex-Boy Scout I was already prepared) and headed for the door. On the way to it Steve stirred and sat up, “Have a good and safe trip mate” he said sticking out his hand “it was a pleasure meeting you.” We shook hands and I told him likewise, he’s a good bloke, and I wished him all the best for his settlement in America and hoped he didn’t have to hack through too much more red tape. I left quietly and silently wished Eric all the best with his studies and a safe journey back to Mexico City.

I was checked out and on the street by 5:10 heading for Metro Center in order to catch the orange line train for L’Enfant Plaza where I would pick up the bus to Dulles airport.
The train journey was no problem and neither was the bus journey – eventually!

I exited the station and found the bus stop for the 5A Express to Dulles Airport and I was in time for the 6:10 bus – which was what I planned. I waited. 6:20 came and I was getting rather perturbed. Two other buses indicated on the board had come and gone – twice each – and a small degree of trepidation was beginning to form. No matter I can get a cab if all else fails, although I didn’t want to spend $30 when I could spend $3! Another guy with a case joined me at the bus stop. A driver got off of one of the many commuter shuttle buses, which queued up at the stop and took away lots of people getting off the trains, and asked us if we wanted the Dulles Express. We did, and it transpired we were waiting in the wrong place as the busses ran from just down the road past the next set of lights – about 300 metres. We thanked him very much and set of down the road to the indicated stop. When we got there we started chatting about sharing a cab if we had missed the next bus – which was 6:50 – and both agreed it as a backup plan. The bus arrived; we got on, paid our $3 each and sat down. On the way, it is about a 45 minute journey, we chatted about all sorts of current affairs mainly centred on the economic rise of China and its consumption of resources to the point of causing world shortages elsewhere.

We got to the airport, in enough time, and headed for our respective check-ins and wishing each other pleasant and uneventful journeys.

In order to get to Vegas I have two flights; 1) DC to Dallas, Fort Worth and then 2) Dallas to Las Vegas, McCarran with a sixty-five minute wait between flights. Our flight was delayed by half an hour – not a lot we could do as we were all sitting on the plane – and I was hoping that the flight time on my connecting ticket was local or I’d be stuffed.

The flight was uneventful and most people, the ones with connecting flights, hurried off the plane, me amongst them. Fortunately the departure time was local and I only had a twenty minute wait before boarding. I double checked with the check-in staff that my luggage had been transferred – my ticket said it was checked thru (more child spelling) but I wasn’t taking any chances – they assured me it was.

The departure gate I had to use at Fort Worth was rather novel. One enters a large room with seats around the edge and poles and rails to hold on to – like a wide train carriage – and then a guy comes along climbs into a cab and drives the thing across the airport apron to the departure lounge proper. These things are big Portakabin type things on wheels, it was quite fascinating to watch others driving back full of people who had just disembarked.

I was able to relax a bit when I got seated and the plane began its taxi-off.

I couldn’t see much of Vegas as we approached because it was covered in cloud and it was raining. Welcome to the desert! Apparently they had been experiencing a freak downpour for the last two days as the result of a storm off the coast of California. It is meant to be better tomorrow though. I knew I was definitely in Vegas as there were slot machines in the arrivals lounge!

I located the bus shuttle stand and got the shuttle to Villa Roma Motel. The place was quite alright, clean, tidy and about to undergo a major renovation. I dumped my bags and headed out for something to eat.

As it was still raining and the cloud was hanging low over Vegas the whole sky was alight with reflected light, I have to admit it looked quite spectacular.

I hit the strip in search of food. Bloody hell, who pays the electricity bill here? This place is lit up like a forest of Christmas trees!

I found a diner slightly out of the way of the main drag and ate in comfort as I was only one of ten people in the place.

Now full and feeling the time I had been up – another time zone change had thrown its spanner into the works – I returned to my hotel and crawled into a big comfortable bed. Aahhh, bliss. I will go exploring properly tomorrow.

D.C. - Day 4

2007-12-14T01:11:00.000Z

I eventually surfaced at 9:00 this morning and then after showering & getting ready spent the next two hours talking to Stephen about driver and vehicle licensing in the US, UK and New Zealand. We eventually realised the time and that fact we should be doing something as the morning was virtually gone.

I decided brunch was a good idea to fuel me for the afternoon.
Having eaten I headed for the International Spy Museum. I figured with the FBI in town and the CIA just up the road it should be quite good.

I was not disappointed. On first arriving one is given the choice of a cover identity and then after a short introductory & set the scenes film one is invited to test the memory of the cover you adopted.
There were all manner of tips and tricks detailed and explained and some of the equipment which had been manufactured for use in espionage was quite astounding. Not only were these on display – often as they appeared and deployed – some of the stuff was “recovered” in operations. The displays and background stories behind these things was very well balanced as I expected it to be a very biased “we are the best and never suffered any losses” affair on the part of the US. It was not, and detailed several catastrophic failures on the part of the CIA and NIS. It also had a very good section on “the famous five”; Blunt, Burgess, McClean, Philby and Cairncross. I deliberately put John Cairncross out of alphabetical order as it was never proved (or admitted by the KGB) that he was “the fifth man” but suspicion was enough to tar him with the same brush as he was one of the “Cambridge Apostles” with the rest of them.

There was an intriguing (for a saddo anorak like me) section on cryptography and a detailed example of the workings of the Enigma machine (bloody clever and very fascinating) and a huge mention and whole sub-section on Bletchley Park – one of the best kept secrets ever!
There was a whole section on the use of espionage during wars, especially communication and the importance of double agents feeding disinformation back to the enemy. This ran from Sun Su right through to Gulf War 1 where the extensive use of camera drones was instrumental in locating mobile scud missile launchers.

There is a whole article on the building of new Russian and American embassies in their relative countries. Because these buildings were bugged to hell in the building process (both of them) they both took five years longer than planned or scheduled to build. The yanks actually tore down their embassy from the second floor up and rebuilt it with materials shipped to Russia under diplomatic immunity from scrutiny. This consisted of concrete, steel and glass used in its construction.

There was a lovely paperweight the head of the CIA had on his desk for many years (don’t ask me which one) which was made from a section of the embassy wall when it was torn down and clearly showed two electronic bugs embedded in the concrete.

I just managed to get round the whole place before they threw everyone out at closing time.
I headed back to the hostel and stopped in a curry house on the way for food – very nice.
When I got back I headed for the lounge area as I had some planning and booking to do for my stay in Las Vegas.

Having trawled through multiple options I booked a few nights in a motel just off the strip. This actually worked out cheaper than the hostel because the hostel had no dorm rooms, they were all private, and I would have been stung with a single supplement (rip off in other words) which made the room $108 per night! [Their wonderful advertisement quoting $21 per night was for four people sharing a “quad room”!] As the motel worked out only $50 per night I decided I would have my own space for a while. Having booked that I then checked my flight was all according to schedule (it was) and then headed for bed as I would have a very early start in the morning.

D.C. - Day 3

2007-12-14T00:38:00.000Z

Today was bright and sunny with clear blue skies – just perfect for the walking tour today.
I met our guide Larry, and all the other people who had signed up for the tour, down in the lobby and we set off at 9:00.

We stopped at a few local places on the way and a few statues – mostly War of Independence people – and Larry explained why there were no high-rise b buildings in downtown Washington; there is a legal limit of twelve stories to any new building so as not to encroach on Capitol’s overseeing of the city. The next stop, or Rather pausing place, was the south side of the White House – this is the one with the large portico and huge lantern. There were a few protesters about, one protest being very noisy by playing some pretty good rock music over a PA system. It was also quite healthy to see they hadn’t been shot by the snipers on the White House roof – they will probably get their doors kicked in at 3:00 by the FBI instead! Obviously the White House isn’t big enough to hold all the bullshit a government requires so the West Wing is where the majority of the offices are and this is linked by a “big corridor” through which all the maggots can scuttle. [I don’t think maggots actually scuttle do they? The cockroaches do though, the maggots just crawl.]

We continued around the complex until we were facing the South side of the White House – this is the one with the big bay window. The chance of getting a photograph staged to appear as if I was crapping on the White House lawn was just not possible, one can’t get near enough or exclude the high double fence around the place (certainly not without the extensive use of Photoshop or some such image manipulation software.

We walked past the big Christmas tree (which the moron and his wife will switch on next week) up to the Washington Monument. Larry recommended we get tickets now if we want to go up it (admission is by ticket only, but they are free) and if any of us were going to accompany him on the Arlington Cemetery tour after lunch go for a 16:00 ticket. I got my ticket for 16:00.

The next pause was at the Jefferson Memorial. We all took a few photographs and Larry told us lots of things about Thomas Jefferson which I have since forgotten, but can be easily retrieved from Wikipedia or some such information source, and then we moved on to the Roosevelt Memorial.
This is a most interesting Memorial as it is divided into four sections – one for each of his terms of office. As one probably knows, Franklin Delano Roosevelt was the only President to be elected for four terms – he didn’t get to serve them all because he died shortly into his fourth. This was an exception because FDR started his tenure during the depression of the 1930’s and then the Yanks actually decided to join in the war and win it for everybody – so FDR got another two terms. The last term was effectively going to be a “mopping up” term. After this it was made a constitutional law that no one person can serve more than two terms – thank the deities for this before the present cretinous incumbent takes us into World War 3. (I suppose being really early for the third one might make up for being late for the previous two!)

Our next monument was the Korean War Memorial. This was a very clever and symbolic thing. It shows nineteen soldiers of various skills and ethnicities reflected in a marble wall – the war was basically fought over the 38th parallel.

Following this we visited “The Wall” as it is called. This is the Vietnam Memorial and when one seeds the scale of it – the whole wall is covered in names – it makes one wonder just how many more of its own children this nation will throw away over a senseless political struggle they need not have got involved in. I hope the photograph conveys some idea of the size of this thing which was modelled as a cut in the ground leaving an open wound. It was quite chilling to behold.
Our next stop was the Lincoln Memorial – the place where Martin Luther King gave his “I have a dream” speech.

We had a lunch stop at a little cafe – where I actually got a decent cup of coffee – and then those of us who wanted to, which was most, started the trek to the Arlington Cemetery. To do this we had to cross the bridge over the Potomac River and enter the state of Virginia. The cemetery is huge and nearly full but contingencies have already been made for this and some extra land acquired. With this warmongering turkey they have in the White House they had better be quick in getting it ready.

We toured some of the famous graves like; John & Jackie Kennedy, the memorial stones for the Challenger and Columbia crews, plus Joe Louis and Lee Marvin. (The latter two were soldiers and therefore entitled to be buried in the National Cemetery.)
We had a look round the mansion at the top of the hill – used to belong to the Lee family – which is in the process of being renovated, so was rather empty – well very empty actually.
We then stopped at the amphitheatre, which is used to give some address each year, behind which is the tomb of the unknown warrior. This has a guard parading up and down on a carpet in front of three plaques – representing the Air Force, Army and Navy – and the guard is changed regularly. We were going to be in time to see it! This is very serious, especially for the poor fools doing it, but like all “military bullshit” it is full of unnecessary heel clicking – reminiscent of Nazi salutes – and a theatrical inspection of an empty rifle with a bayonet on top. I did refrain from laughing whilst all this was going on, but only just. After it was over I was sniggering gently and I caught the eye of Jacko (an Aussie guy in our party), we took one look at each other and had to run around a corner before we pissed ourselves laughing.

We walked back the way we came – across the bridge over the Potomac and back into DC – and finished up visiting the World War 2 memorial. This was a bit hard for me to swallow as it depicts four eagles bestowing the garland of victory on the nation – thanks for turning up in time! I didn’t bother taking any photographs of this.

Having come full circle we arrived at the Washington Monument where Larry took his leave of us. We entered the security tent and then proceeded to the elevator.

At the top the views are quite superb and well worth making the effort to see. Having took several pictures in all directions I headed back down – just before the thing shuts for the night.
I had a gentle stroll back to the hostel as my feet were telling me I had reached the days walking quota, and they were very grateful to be set free.

I decided to have my Chinese remains for supper, so I placed them in one of the nuclear ovens and exposed it to radiation for three minutes. It was hot when I got it out and I didn’t hear of any Russian dissidents dying so it must have been semi-safe radiation.
I took my plate out to the dining area and Stephen was sitting there reading a paper. “Sit there if you like” he said indicating a vacant chair at his table. “Thanks” I said and joined him. We had a chat about things – he is sorting out a driving licence and needs to take a US test to get his US licence.

We were waxing lyrical about the hoops one has to jump through to get a driving licence (it is the same with foreign nationals in the UK – they need to take a test) but one advantage here is that one can get a driving test the same day as one applies – that is very different from the UK. We were joined by a young lady Stephen had obviously been chatting to before. He made the introductions and it turns out Ruth that is her name, comes from the UK and is a paediatric nurse who used to nurse in Ilford, so she knew where Southend-On-Sea is! Small world. She had spent the last six months in Australia travelling around it (that was why she had a tinge of accent and I initially thought she was an Aussie). We were joined by a lovely mad old lady from England – she was a roommate of Ruth’s. This is a little disingenuous as perhaps eccentric would be a better word.

We all waxed lyrical on the rampant scam which is the tipping culture in the States and roundly condemned it. We carried on chatting for another couple of hours before all heading off to our respective resting places.

D.C. - Day 2

2007-12-14T00:27:00.000Z

Having had a lovely relaxing sleep I awoke recharged and ready to tackle The Smithsonian – well part of it at least.

I got up at 8:00 and headed for the shower, relishing the fact that I would get one without having to wait three hours. As it happened it took me about an hour to get in it because I was chatting to Stephen about his battles with The Red Tape of America – which would obviously be bigger redder and “tapier” than anywhere else in the world! He is trying to get a driver’s licence sorted out before his temporary tags expire on his car – he doesn’t seem too hopeful. In the USA the tags (or plates) stay with the driver as opposed to in the UK – or New Zealand – where they stay with the vehicle. After commiserating with him on his plight I had a shave and a shower and returned to the dorm. This was when I re-met Eric, a nice guy from Mexico City, as we had met in the shower earlier whilst I was talking to Stephen.

We were both heading for The Smithsonian so we agreed to walk there together. Eric was heading for the Natural History Museum and I was aiming for the Space and Flight Museum. We were chatting happily away and in sight of the Natural History Museum (The Smithsonian consists of several museums – all free to enter) when I suddenly had a thought that I had forgotten something and, on checking all my pockets, realised I had forgotten my wallet. Bugger! I apologised to Eric, wished him a good day and set off back to the hostel. Damn!
Having retrieved my wallet I then retraced my steps back to Pennsylvania Avenue.

The Smithsonian consists of about five (or maybe more) museums. One was shut for renovation, so that narrowed my choice a little, and I opted for the National Air & Space Museum.

When I got there, as one can imagine, I was in my element – that’s it for the day (until closing time). The place is vast, as it would have to be to house whole aircraft – and quite a few of them, so I was made up just walking through the door when I saw what was in the entrance gallery – the Apollo 11 Command Module! Either side of it were Mercury and Gemini capsules – all of these were enclosed in plastic cases which afforded an excellent view for the naked eye but was a bitch to try and photograph even with flash turned off as the interiors were not terribly well lit. Not all that surprising really seeing as how bloody small they were. I am sure any feeling of claustrophobia would be amply offset by the feeling of agoraphobia when looking out of the window into open space! I tried to imagine what it would be like to sit in (well be strapped into) a chair for a week and not being able to get up or move very much at all! At least the moon walkers got a chance to get out and stretch their legs for a while. Mind you when I got to see the suiting up procedure for the flight – let alone moon walking which was even more intense – I will never complain about specialist clothing again.

I could bore everyone with loads of details about what I saw but I will just give a few highlights and let you know I left when the museum closed.

There was an interesting exhibit on Space Ship One – the first privately produced space vehicle – which is effectively made of epoxy coated fabric and folds itself in half for re-entry! Ingenious. There was a section of moon rock mounted in a stand and one can touch it, so I can now say I have touched the moon with my own hands (as opposed to just in my dreams)! I was very thrilled anyway.

One of the star attractions they have is the original Wright Flyer; yes, that is the Wright brother’s plane which made the first flight. It had been recovered (part of the original covering was in a display case) and one of the propellers had been replaced (the original broken one was in a display case too – it broke when the plane crash landed after its flight) but the structure was all there and intact. Needless to say I was enthralled with it – we seem to have come a very long way in 100 years.

I have tried to keep the photo examples down to a minimum as I could have included pictures of; Skylab, Hubble Telescope, Breitling Orbiter 3, the Mars Lander, Voyager (the first aircraft to fly around the world without stopping or refuelling – designed by Burt Rutan who designed Space Ship One), and LM2.
LM2 is the Lunar Module used for drop testing on Earth, LM’s 3 & 4 where sent into orbit unmanned and used for docking & deployment practice and LM5 actually landed on the moon – so it obviously isn’t on display!

Also on display is a cutaway model of Skylab – the one they used underwater for training – which one can walk through and see just what it was like in the living quarters, including the space toilet and the space shower – very clever things in zero gravity!

If one likes, or is interested in, flight and space flight then this is a must visit place. If not stay away, although you won’t waste your money because all the Smithsonian museums are free to enter. The only thing I found disappointing about it was a McMurders (but I avoided it like the plague it is so I was alright).

I returned to the now dark streets of DC and it was only when I started walking down the road that I realised how much my feet ached.
I headed off for something to eat but did stop to get a rather good picture of the Washington Monument at sunset (even if I do say so myself).

When I got back to the hostel I ran into Eric and we exchanged observations on the Smithsonian. Well, I should say I found out what he was really going there for – I assumed to visit, but I was wrong – and that is measuring specimens of Mexican woodpeckers for his dissertation. Apparently the Smithsonian has the largest collection in the world, so where better to go? He was fascinated with my run down on the things I had seen and was really taken with some of my photographs. He put the Space & Flight Museum on his “must do” list before returning to Mexico City.

We both set off to check emails, etc. before turning in for the night. I had received another email from Masa, who is trying to readjust to life in Japan after “travelling and being free” as he put it. Hmmm, it stirred a few reservations in my mind too. I wonder how I will feel when/if I return to the UK. I put aside any further thought about that, I am not going to let it taint my experiences. I replied to his email and wished him well.

Having caught up with everything “Interweb” I went to bed. I wanted to be rested for the monument walking tour tomorrow.

D.C. - Day 1

2007-12-14T00:25:00.000Z

It was grey and rainy today when I got up so I dedicated my morning to catching up on my blog entries. When I looked back I hadn’t finished a single one for New York so I had to put some effort in remembering exactly what I did.

As it was now afternoon I thought I had better have a proper wander around in daylight – somewhat curtailed by the thick overcast as it was. I set off down 11th Street and got to Pennsylvania Avenue. I am sure most of you have heard of this at one end lives an idiot warmongering arsehole that is very unpopular in this country, and at the other end a bunch of “bought and paid for” politicians. The last bit sounds a bit like home if the recent news stories are to be believed. (I am just secretly hoping some scumbag like McCarthy has made a donation to the “Pink Tories” in my name and I’ll get the money back. I could certainly put it to better use!)

I walked quickly past the FBI building (in case) and had a chuckle at the IRS (Internal Revenue Service) building as they were the only ones who could get Al Capone. I have to say that this area of DC does look very “classical” and rather like some of London – lots of Doric & Classical columns.

It started to rain with a vengeance whilst I was strolling up Pennsylvania Avenue so I thought I would go in search of somewhere to eat, as I hadn’t eaten anything so far and was hungry. (Very logical.)

I turned up E Street and lo and behold found the Hard Rock Cafe. In I went.

I have to say this is the quietest HRC I have been in. I suppose in fairness it was only 5:00 and probably hadn’t kicked off yet, however, it was also the sparsest populated with super hard rock goodies. It did have one of Alvin Lee’s guitars in it and a signed photograph of Lord John, but other than that no Holy Relics and not an awful lot that interested me. Never mind, the food was good and I left stuffed.

When I got back to the hostel I had a nasty headache so I decided to lie down and rest for a while. Needless to say I dropped off and when I woke up it was 7:30 and I had some new roommates. I have to compliment them on their thoughtfulness as they turned the light off as soon as they saw me lying on my bed and proceeded to sort out their stuff very quietly and leave the dorm – without slamming the door behind them. This was a marked improvement on the last place I stayed in New York.

I got up and proceeded to update some more of my blog entries – that is on my laptop, as I haven’t posted them yet – and ended up crawling into bed at 12:30.

I returned the compliment by not undoing and re-locking my locker three times and zipping and unzipping my bag at least as many times and made sure I didn’t crash into any of their beds – after all it doesn’t take much to be considerate. I gathered by the undisturbed snoring coming from one of them that I had succeeded in my mission and fell into a righteous sleep.

New York to Washington

2007-12-04T01:15:00.000Z

Today started very much like yesterday – waiting for a shower. I gave up on that in exchange for breakfast at the diner round the corner. At least I would start off well fed and perhaps any smell I might generate might keep away the nutters on the bus. The other thing which annoyed me was that most people seemed to get up early and I didn’t get time to disturb or annoy them with my alarm clock. Damn!

I checked out of the hostel – can’t wait for the feedback request – and walked down the road to 96th Street Subway station. On the #2 express it is only two stops to Times Square/42nd Street and from there one can walk through to the Port Authority Bus Depot.

As I said before I had gone there the previous evening to make sure I had got the right place. However, yesterday I had entered from the street level and there was an electronic information board right inside the doors – there are lots of doors! This time I entered from the Subway station and realised the place was a fucking aircraft hanger with signs pointing to Gate 200 and beyond! Where the hell was I to start heading? As it was Sunday all the information booths were shut but I did manage to find one which had a disinterested attendant in it (a true New Yorker?) who looked up from her newspaper, briefly, said “Yeah” in a most unhelpful way and looked back to her newspaper. I put on my best behaved English accent (whatever that might be) and asked “Excuse me, I am travelling by Greyhound to DC. Can you tell me which gate I need to head for please?” I had also held my ticket up to the booth window. She looked up glanced at the ticket and said “Gate 27, straight on and down the stairs” and promptly returned to her newspaper. I couldn’t resist, I had to say “Thank you so much for your kind and attentive help ma’am. Have a nice day”. I think the sarcasm passed harmlessly over the roof of the booth, but I felt better at having got it in.

Needless to say, true to the sour bitch’s word straight on and down the escalator pointed to Gates 20-29, or 20-50 or something – all I knew was that 27 was in its range. Having found out I needed to execute a U-turn at the bottom of the escalator – this was due to a surge of panic at facing a dead end and gates numbered 20-25 – I then located Gate 27 with a huge queue emanating from it. I joined the queue and in true British fashion waited patiently and queued properly until I arrived at the gate.

The e-ticket worked and I trundled towards the indicated bus. I was greeted by a baggage loader who hefted my bag made some comment about a bad back, it being overweight and basically hinting for a tip for doing his job. I said “no problem mate” picked my bag up and loaded it into the luggage bay. As he started to protest I just turned my back on him and boarded the bus. The words of the Professor came back to me “One can tire of America” and I was certainly getting tired of everyone trying to extract American Dreams from me. One thing America is: capitalist, exploitative... oh sorry that’s two! Two things America is; capitalist, exploitative, commercial... oh that’s three things! Among the diverse things America is, are; capitalist, exploitative, commercial, shallow, green (Yankee Dollar colour), materialistic ...dare I go on?

The bus was full, and as soon as it was we left – some 15 minutes ahead of schedule. It was also an express, which means it doesn’t stop (well, until it gets to its destination) so I was quite pleased at that. I had my bottle of water, MP3 player and noise reducing headphones – I was set.

I started off quite well as I stayed awake until we cleared New York City proper. After that my broken and reduced sleep of the night before took over and I slept for most of the journey.
I did wake up in time to witness us crossing an elevated stretch of highway over a large expanse of water. I realised I hadn’t slept long enough for us to have reached Key West but had no idea where I was – I left that to the bus driver.

I believe I must have nodded off again because when I next awoke I saw a sign saying Washington DC 25. Well it looked like the journey might pass off painlessly.

It did – and the baggage guy in New York had left my bag on the bus!

I headed out of the door with the sign pointing me towards the Metro station and hit the streets. Union Station is just down the road from the Greyhound station and a very helpful attendant instructed me in how to buy my ticket from the machine and which platform I needed for the train to Metro Center.

Having got to Metro Center I had no problem in finding my way to the hostel as DC uses a similar grid system to New York; Streets 1-whatever, bisected by streets A-whatever.

I got checked in, found my dorm and encountered Stephen one of my roommates. Stephen is a Kiwi who has recently got a job in Virginia – literally just down the road – and is staying in the hostel until he can find somewhere to live. [Note Washington DC is its own area and is not part of Virginia or Maryland.] He had spent five years working in the UK and then applied for a job here, not really expecting to be successful – but he was. Anyway we chatted for about 45 minutes about all sorts of things before he had to catch up with someone who was helping him sort out his social security card.

I headed for the shower and was able to walk straight into one! Hooray! Feeling much cleaner and much refreshed I got into my last clean shirt and trousers and headed for the laundry.

Having completed all my laundry I then headed out for something to eat. I thought I would head for Chinatown as it was only about six blocks away – so I did. This was more like it a large Chinese style gateway over the road – I will get a picture of it in daylight – and loads of restaurants & shops the other side of it.

I picked a Chinese restaurant and went in.

I had a lovely meal, but, as I had opted for a starter (spare ribs get me every time) I couldn’t finish it all. This is no problem because any restaurant or diner will always put it in a “take out” bag. That was another meal sorted out for me and I could even heat it up in the hostel’s radiation oven.

Satisfied and full I had a gentle stroll beck to the hostel, stashed my goodie bag in the fridge and headed for bed.

I fell asleep almost immediately and was not woken up by anyone or anything!

New York - Day 6

2007-12-04T01:07:00.000Z

My last full day in New York. Oh well, it will be an unwashed one unless I want to wait until 11:00 to get in the bathroom! The set up with this dorm is quite ridiculous and now I have seen it in action – it did conform to my suspicions.

I went to the diner just round the corner and had a lovely breakfast.

I returned to the dorm to see how bathroom access was going. I reckon my estimate of 11:00 was about right. I couldn’t afford to waste any more of my day so I headed back out again. I’ll have a shower when I get back.

I had a short walk down the road to the Subway station and caught the red line #2 express downtown. I got off at 34th/Penn Station. This gave me an opportunity to walk through Pennsylvania Station – which as one might have guessed, is huge. My intended destination was Madison Square Garden or “The Garden” as it is known in the vernacular. This is the scene of many famous gigs and events but none more so in my eyes than the Rock Gods themselves – Led Zeppelin. Unfortunately I could not complete my pilgrimage properly because the “Access All Areas” tour was not running due to the New York Knicks home game that day. (They are the local basketball team if anyone’s interested.) The ticket office – well ticket concourse, as there are about a hundred ticket offices – was jammed with people queuing, milling about or just gazing about (like me).

I got a coffee and then headed back onto the Subway where I took the #1 local service to Rector Street.

I made the short walk to Battery Park with the intention of getting to the Statue of Liberty. That plan made a rapid exit when I saw the queue was the same length as yesterday. (I have to admit I did not check to see if the same people were still in it!) Oh well, it looks like Lady Liberty will have to make do without a visit from me this time.

I decided I had better at least see the UN building before I left New York, so I decided to walk there. I have made several mistakes on my journey so far, and this was another one. I did not realise how bloody far it was from Battery Park to United Nations Plaza. I walked the length of Park Avenue South and turned off into East 42nd Street before it became just Park Avenue. It is only three blocks down 42nd Street but by this time my feet knew every one of them.
Nevertheless I got to the UN Headquarters and joined the queue to get in. As I was here I thought I’d better take the tour. I also had to get a picture of the sculpture outside as I liked it.

After clearing security screening I entered the building proper and got a ticket for the next tour. I took the opportunity to have a look around and then sat down to wait the rest of the time. In looking around I viewed the paintings on display for the International Children’s Painting Competition and was most pleased to see that the winner was 11 year old Charlotte Sullivan – it made me quite proud to be British.

The tour was most interesting and took us through all the chambers of the UN. I have included a photograph of the Security Council Chamber – you can all speculate on why – because it also gives a superb example of a total prick! The cretin in the light jacket with the baseball hat was a prime example of “photographus spasticus”. Every room we went in and every point we stopped at for the guide to explain something this dork had to be photographed in front of it. The reason I found the bastard so annoying was that we usually had to wait for him to catch up because the little turd was being photographed in front of everything which remained still long enough.

At the conclusion of the tour I returned to the streets, which were now dark and cold. I made my way back to 96th Street station and hit the diner for some food.

Nicely full and warm I returned to the dorm and found it blissfully empty. I had a refreshing luke-warm shower, sorted out everything I would need for tomorrow with a contingency that I might or might not get a wash, put my MP3 player on to charge (I would need it for the bus) and crawled into bed.

Tonight and tomorrow morning was almost an exact copy of last night and this morning, but with the addition of two more Spanish speaking blokes who rattled and banged locker doors several times and a Japanese girl who was occupying the bunk above me and appeared to go through a short Olympic trampoline winning routine before settling down to sleep.

I thanked the deities that this was my last night here, ensured that my alarm was set (I would let it go off for quite a while before stopping it I thought) and settled down to get as much sleep as I might be allowed.

New York - Day 5

2007-12-04T00:07:00.000Z

I have to change hostels today as the one I’m in is full up and I couldn’t extend my stay. I had already made contingencies for this and had booked two nights at Jazz on the City which is only eight blocks up the street.

I got there easily and dropped off my bags so I could travel light – sorry that should be travel – lite. (Yes I am taking the piss.) Check-in time wasn’t until 15:00 and I wasn’t going to waste my day waiting around, so I completed all the check-in formalities and headed downtown.

I tried the Museum of Modern Art again as Fridays it has free admission. This was another major mistake as the people joining the queue – like me – were being told there was a two to three hour wait for admission. OK, I will try again later. In the meantime I headed up the street for the Rockefeller Center.

Having got there I thought I would do “The Top of the Rock” as the trip to the observation deck is called. I remembered that my “Smartsave Map” I had picked up from the hostel entitled me to a 20% discount – so I used it.

There is a little introductory film before taking the elevator (told you I’m learning the language) up to the observation deck. The lift is quite fun because the ceiling is actually clear, but when one gets into it the lights are on and it looks opaque. When the lift starts its ascent the lights in the ceiling go off – there are lights in the walls so it isn’t completely dark – and one can see all the way up the lift shaft – which has lovely electric blue lights all the way up it at every floor. The effect is quite stunning as one shoots up this shaft past all these lights towards the red ones at the very top.

The observation deck itself is actually on three levels and all of them are exposed to the elements – wish I’d brought my gloves with me! The views are awesome, and Central Park in all its fall glory looked rather superb – I have included a picture of it.

Having wandered around every level several times and got my hands very cold, I returned to the shelter of the lower level and looked at the crystal displays they have there. They were done by the same people who fashioned the huge chandelier in the main entrance way – that is something to see in itself. I haven’t included a photo of it because I could not get a good enough angle on it to do it justice or to encompass enough of it to give a proper impression of just how huge it is – about six metres in length!

After getting to the top of the rock and back down again I decided to check on the state of admission to MOMA. It was the same so I headed out down Sixth Avenue. Boy, have I made a mistake. Today, being the day after Thanksgiving is the traditional day of shopping. The streets were crammed with people going in every direction. The queue for Radio City tailed round the corner and half-way up West 58th Street! As I fought my way down the road – actually that is a little misleading as I didn’t fight. I found the easy way to cross streets – just stand behind some big fat lump heading in the same direction and follow in their wake! If one could slow down enough to match the forward speed of the waddling lard bucket then it was pretty plain sailing. (How many metaphors would you like mixed people?)

As it was cold and I had ingested a few coffees during the morning I was in need of a pee. (The reason I give this much information is that “rest rooms”, as toilets are called here, are not easy to find unless one wants to buy something and public ones are like rocking horse poo.) I did however have a brainwave, especially as it came into view in all its bedecked humbug glory – I would go into Macys. Being a large department store (I’m sure everyone’s heard of them) they would be bound to have some.

If I believed in the children’s stories of going to heaven or hell after death then this would be my hell! Total purgatory! The place was full of brainless morons just wandering about like friendly fire rockets with no guidance systems! It was packed out and must have violated the fire and safety regulations of even the Indians flocking to the Ganges. It was a lesson in the insanity of sad people dangled the carrot of saving an American Dream on something already stupidly overpriced and then reduced to a semi-sensible price – a study in gullibility if ever there was one.

Anyway I managed to fight (almost literally) my way to the seventh floor, by use of the escalators, in order to reach “the men’s room” – for which I had to queue! The “women’s rooms” queues were the cause of several blockages in aisles.

On my egress I then had to face the daunting task of trying to get out of this melee. I stopped on level five and got some Ben & Jerry’s ice cream because; it is nice, and I could sit down and eat it. This was a great spot for some people watching. I watched gaggles of females struggling through the crowd with bags bulging from their sides. I saw a similar number with bulging sides and bags in their hands. I saw vain idiot males checking their reflection in every reflective surface (most of these seemed to be Latinos – I don’t know why) to make sure they still looked like well groomed pimps or homosexuals “on the pull”. If one can bastardise a Sherlock Holmes story title – A Study in Vacuous!
Having finished my ice cream I bit the bullet (obviously not literally as I would have used the bullet to slaughter as many people as I could with one shot) and headed for the exit. I didn’t even attempt the elevators – there were four of them and a large queue of bag laden cattle in front of each – I stuck with the escalators as these at least moved. As I approached the ground floor I wish in hindsight that I had taken a photograph of the crowd below. I have to complement the staff on their crowd control methods – I would have resorted to tear gas and live ammunition long ago – which were very good. The centre aisle was for incoming only and they had set up a set of barriers to channel people onto escalators. The side aisles were for exit only. Like a trapped wild animal sensing freedom I made for the exit!

As Macys is situated at the junction of Broadway and Sixth I thought I would head up Broadway to Times Square – in for a cent in for a thousand dollars – and get a Subway back to freedom, well the hostel at least. As I was hungry now I decided to go into Planet Hollywood on Times Square. I hadn’t been in one of these places before so I thought I would have a look. It was full of movie memorabilia, some of which actually interested me. The other thing I found wonderful about it was that it was only half full and I had plenty of room to move about and getting a table to myself with no one (or no two hundred) to crowd me was a wonderful bonus. I ate well and emerged full and ready for a sit down.

I got to the hostel and checked in. My first impressions were unimpressive as I was on the fourth floor and had to heft my luggage up some steep and narrow stairs (no lift in this place). I got to my dorm and had further suspicions. It was a twelve bedded dorm with “en suite” which may sound good on paper but is shite in practice, especially in this case. The “en suite” consisted of one toilet and one bath/shower in the same room. This was fine whilst no one else was around but I wondered what it might be like when the place was full up.

I stowed my stuff, made up my bed, had a shower (no hot water) and went up to the lounge. My misgivings about this place got another boost when I saw the lounge. It contained four PCs on desks, for Internet access, a large plasma screen TV on the wall, about four bar tables and if ten people were in it it was full – there were and it was! Thoughts of sitting down and reading my book went straight out of the window as the TV was on, the PCs were in use (all of them) people were sitting about talking (loudly because they had to overcome the drivel from the TV) and all the chairs were taken. I surveyed the scene, executed a perfect U turn and returned to my dorm. I lay on my bed and listened to some sounds until I dropped off.

I was awoken a few hours later by the arrival of two couples jabbering in Spanish and crashing about with their luggage. Oh double bugger, it is a mixed dorm. This in itself doesn’t bother me at all, it was the thought of one bathroom and women taking three times as long as even the most effeminate ponce bloke in the bathroom.

I decided not to worry about it, got undressed and into bed properly and went to sleep.

I was awoken about 2:30 by a bunch of drunken Dutchmen who proceeded to stagger about, laugh, giggle and talk in loud voices. They eventually settled down after a while.

I was awoken at 4:00 by the Spanish speaking couples who came in speaking Spanish – loudly – and then proceeded to go through all their bags and then spend about half an hour wishing each other good night. I was just beginning to give serious thought as to how I might murder them all silently when they got to sleep (I had two pillows and I could probably use my belt as a garrotte – the blade on my multi-tool was long enough to sever a major artery but that would be messy – but the wire on one of my chargers would probably be better as it was much thinner and made of copper wire...) but they did eventually settle down and I fell asleep again before I could become a murderer.

We shall see what the morning brings – well later on this morning...

New York - Day 4

2007-12-04T00:01:00.000Z

Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

Yes today is Thanksgiving Day when New York goes quiet for a morning whilst the Thanksgiving Parade takes place.

I made my way down to the parade – well part of it, down by Central Park West. I didn’t get to see much of the parade at all – apart from the balloons in the air, some of the people on the floats and the odd glimpse of something between a sea of heads and children perched on parents shoulders.

After I had enough of trying to peer through a wall of people twenty to thirty deep; I donned my MP3 player, selected that superb album New York by Lou Reed and headed for Battery Park. I had this notion of seeing the Statue of Bigotry (thanks Lou) on Thanksgiving Day.

I got the Subway to Rector Street and walked down Wall Street and Broadway to the park. As soon as I got there I realised my mistake – the world, its wife, brother, cousins, and illegitimate children had all got the same idea! The queue stretched from the ticket booths in Clinton Castle to the entrance to the park and according to the staff keeping the line orderly (it didn’t take any effort) there was a two to three hour wait for anyone joining the queue. I decided to pass on this and had a stroll around the park instead. There were plenty of American Dreams being made today by the vendors and people dressed as Liberty! I viewed “The Sphere” – a sculpture by Fritz Koenig which stood in the plaza outside the World Trade Center – and the eternal flame. It was rather battered, as you can see from the photograph and made quite a poignant reminder.
I thought I would go and view the remains of what used to be the World Trade Center as it was just up the road – West Street to be precise. I will not moralise on the destruction of the WTC, I have opinions on it, like everyone else, and it was a tragic loss of life. I just get very annoyed when “the average American” believes they are the only ones this has happened to and adopt an air of righteous indignation. To put it in perspective; thanks to their great McMurders corporation donation to NorAid the people of London, Birmingham, Manchester, Liverpool and Brighton could all feel the same.

The WTC site is basically a building site surrounded by high fencing and smelling of concrete with not a lot to see apart from the cranes sticking out of it. I refrained from poking my camera through any of the gaps in the shroud on the grounds of good taste and respect for the dead. I couldn’t help wondering about the lack of damage or devastation to the surrounding high-rise buildings though, either that or the repair work was indistinguishable from the original.
I walked around the perimeter of the site and then moved on.

I wandered over to City Hall, around it and viewed the approach to the Brooklyn Bridge. This was an amazing clumsy waltz of traffic negotiating its way onto and off the bridge. I was quite mesmerised by the volume of traffic constantly flowing over it – like metal water.

From here I then walked up to Chinatown – this one was very different from Seattle – which was just thronged with oriental people – I won’t say just Chinese as there were Korean, Vietnamese, Thai, Japanese, Cambodian, Hong Kong (some still feel it is independent from China, obviously) and some places just labelled with pictograms and no English on them – so I have no idea what they are.

After this I headed for Little Italy and then through to Greenwich Village. This sacred site has long since been desecrated as Cafe Wah has been pulled down and built on. I had to go there anyway.

I got to Washington Square and by this time my feet were telling me to stop using them. I found the nearest Subway and got the A train uptown to 42nd Street where I changed onto a #1 train to 103rd Street. I chose the local #1 train over the express #2 and changing again because the local train is less full and I could get a seat – my feet thanked me for that decision.

I grabbed some food at the diner over the road from the hostel and then crossed the road and removed my shoes! Aaah, blessed relief.

I had a chat with Rich and an Aussie guy who was on the tour yesterday. He had managed to see more of the parade than I did because; he got there earlier, and is much taller than I am! However, he said he didn’t get a very good view as it was packed and also encountered the children on shoulders problem – we both agreed it would have been churlish to either request their removal or just push them off their parent’s shoulders.

After writing up some of this I then limped off to bed in order to leave my legs straight for a few hours.

New York - Day 3

2007-12-03T23:57:00.000Z

I had signed up for two guided tours from the hostel today.

The first covered historic Harlem with our guide Ed. It was most informative and very interesting. We took the subway uptown to 125th Street and then walked from there.
I didn’t take terribly much notice of the street names, so you’ll have to forgive me for not listing them all – it would probably be rather boring anyway – but we got to Sugar Hill and viewed the difference between the Dutch style and English style town houses. Basically the Dutch style have high stoops – because they always had flooding in mind, wherever they were – and the English style did not. Sugar Hill got its name from the fact that a lot of moneyed people lived on it – “there be a lot of sugar on that hill” – and the same is true today as New York prices are just like London prices, ludicrously high. We walked up to Hamilton Heights – where Alexander Hamilton lived (although the house has been moved once and will be moved again soon) – and along Edgecombe Avenue – where Duke Ellington lived. (“...take the A train to Sugar Hill” – sound familiar?) In a side road off of Edgecombe is a lovely dead-end street where all the original workers houses have been restored to their former glory and declared a heritage site. I have included a picture as it looked so quaint.

We continued up to University Heights which officially took us into The Bronx. The university seemed to have been modelled on a cross between the Tower of London and the spires of Oxford; it was quite impressive to see this spring out of New York, but then New York is full of surprises.
It was at this time that Ed gave us the option to either go off exploring or return to the hostel with him. We all opted to return to the hostel as most of us were going on the tour this afternoon.

The next guided tour was to Staten Island with our guide Don. This was also great fun as there were twenty-six people on the tour from nine different countries. We got the Subway #1 train to Columbus Circus, changed to the A train to Fulton Street, changed to the #4 train to Bowling Green and then walked to the Staten Island Ferry Terminal. This is a nice big shiny modern building with easy access for the passengers it carries – about 70,000 a day – and it is free.
We sailed out of the dock and had some wonderful views of the Manhattan skyline. Our journey took us across the Hudson River past Ellis Island – home of the Statue of Liberty – and over The Narrows to Staten Island.

When we got to the island Larry had arranged for us to all have pizza at a little pizza house up the hill from the ferry terminal. This was very nice of him as it didn’t cost us anything, unless one wanted drinks. We all relaxed and had a chat over pizza and then set off for the Staten Island Memorial. This is the only permanent memorial to the people who lived on the island and died in the destruction of the World Trade Center. As one can see from the picture it is shaped like two wings and faces the point where the twin towers were visible. On each of the sides are a list of all the Staten Islanders who perished along with a profile of them and a brief list of details. I thought it was a very subtle memorial.

We returned to the ferry terminal and having disembarked the other side we got a Subway to Times Square. I got another fix of it and it was interesting to watch the people who hadn’t been there before. From there Larry gave us the option to go and explore or return to the hostel with him. I opted for returning to the hostel.

Upon my return I was greeted by one of my roommates, another Brit, Rich from Gloucester. We had a chat about all sorts of things and exchanged views and observations on New York and USA.

After we had finished our long chat I went off in search of food and then settled down to write up some more of this. I got a reasonably early night as I want to get up earlyish to go and have a look at the Thanksgiving Parade.

New York - Day 2

2007-12-03T23:53:00.000Z

As I slept so well last night, I did not wake up until 10:00 and was a bit slow to get going so I didn’t hit the streets until 11:00.

I decided I would go exploring instead and I learned how to get to Carnegie Hall. Take a train to Columbus Circus, walk along Broadway for two blocks, turn left into West Street, walk one block and look right. This is the easy way and one can cut out all the practice! I didn’t take any photographs of it (likewise with several other buildings I saw) simply because one cannot get far enough away from, or close enough to, any building in New York without either getting a lot of traffic – pedestrian and vehicular – in the way or the whole thing in shot. [In some instances it might be possible; but then the vehicular traffic will run you over!] There are enough stock pictures of these places to be found on the Internet and they will have been taken with more sophisticated equipment than I have (or want) at my disposal. Please feel free to indulge oneself.

I decided to head for the Museum of Modern Art.

This was a bit of a disaster as MOMA is closed on Tuesdays (I know that now) and so that scuppered that plan. Never mind, I will have an explore of the surrounding area. I started with Sixth Avenue or Avenue of the Americas. {Note: all the streets have “honorary” names aside from the number, e.g. 8th Avenue and these are displayed on brown coloured signs in addition to the ordinary green ones.]
I headed back to 6th Avenue and wandered past the Radio City Music Hall which is celebrating its 75th year and was all geared up for its Christmas Special. I took in the Rockefeller Center and watched the skaters on the rink for a while. I will go up the observation platform on another day as today was rather overcast with some low cloud so the view would not be so good.

On my walking tour I went down Diamond Row, so named for its proliferation of diamond merchants and fine jewellers. I must admit there were times when I was tempted to “don the shades” as some of the radiations from the multi-carat exhibits were almost blinding – I bet the price tags were too!

As I was trundling down the road there were a good number of Hassidic Jews in evidence and I have to ask; how come they don’t realise how stupid they look? This isn’t anti-Semitic it is just an observation on how daft it is to walk around in a big overcoat, a big hat with girlie ringlets dangling from it and a scruffy straggly beard. How does one look in a mirror (if one is allowed) and come to the conclusion that one looks “cool” or OK even? As we are on the subject of looking stupid then some of “the street yoof” can surpass this. How is ones “street cred” boosted by wearing a pair of jeans that don’t fit because the waist band is around the upper or mid-thigh showing off one’s Kevin Cretin underpants? To top that off how is it cool, or even vaguely sensible to wear TWO baseball caps when they can’t even get one on properly? Perhaps I am just showing my age, but it does look ridiculous to me when one has to waddle along the street because leg movement is restricted by the waistband of one’s jeans! [“Are you dissin’ me man?” “No, I am just amused by your stupid appearance, and saddened by the fact you can’t dress yourself properly or at least buy clothes the correct size!”]

By this time it was dark, as the sun had set, and I was getting hungry so I set about finding something to eat and then headed back to the hostel. I did get another fix of Times Square on the way back as the place just makes me smile. On my second lap I stopped and took a picture for a couple of guys who were trying to take a picture of themselves by holding the camera at arm’s length. I saw the result of the last attempt – the top of one guy’s head – and volunteered my services. They were most grateful and pleased with the result. That reminds me; a Japanese guy asked me to take a photograph of him and his girlfriend last time I was in Times Square and proffered his camera and a dollar bill. I said to him “I don’t want your money mate, I’m not an American.” He was most grateful and I received several bows in thanks. It was obvious I wasn’t American – none of them would have turned down the offer of an American Dream.
Satisfied with my good deed and satiated with my fix of Times Square I headed for the Subway and returned to the hostel.

I met Peter & Christine when I got back and they asked what I thought of MOMA. I told them it was shut on Tuesdays – so not very well – but I will get to see it, hopefully, on Thursday. They told me it was free on Fridays if I would be around that long. I had already decided I would be as I was due to check out on Thursday until I realised it was Thanksgiving Day, so I had decided to stay until Sunday and then head for DC. My next flight of my trip is on Friday 30th so that would give me almost a week in the capital.

Mindful of my aching feet and tomorrow’s walking tour I decided to relax and get an early night – so I did.

New York - Day 1

2007-12-03T23:44:00.000Z

I thought I would do some heavy duty walking today, and I did!

I thought I would start off walking to Central Park as it is only a few blocks from the hostel. This I did and then started walking towards the 72nd Street entrance in search of Strawberry Fields. It was quite a walk but I just kept plodding along with the strains of Tangerine Dream’s “Le Parc” on my MP3 player. (Yes I know it was a bit corny, but I happen to like it.) There are several designated “quiet zones” in Central Park – these are as they say on the tin and are meant for quiet contemplation. I found Strawberry Fields with no problem at all, however, I was most annoyed to find a bunch or yelling, screeching, loud Italians running around the place taking each other’s pictures and enacting a “Nippon Shuffle”. As they were Italian I guessed there was a 90% chance of them being brainwashed blinkered catholics and wondered how they would feel if I turned up with a bunch of mates in one of their churches or cathedrals and started climbing over the statues of idols they fill them up with and generally whooping and hollering like a deranged loon. I guessed they wouldn’t be too happy and I wasn’t either. I was going to have a shout at them about respecting a place of reverence as I was getting quite angry – and then I had a second thought; it probably wouldn’t be in the gentle spirit of Lord John to curtail the loud and lively spirit of these people with curses and threats – so I backed off and went and had a sit down for ten minutes. Shame I haven’t got organised religion, I could get away with being a total hypocrite if I had!

After the rabble had gone I returned and walked slowly around the area of Strawberry Fields which was in all of its autumn glory. It is weird but it does have a serene feel to it and I found it quite therapeutic as all thoughts of murder and the inflicting of physical harm had gone.

As I was nearby – well right next to really – I left the park and crossed Central Park West to the corner of 72nd Street. I was standing next to the Dakota Building; former home of one of the worlds genius talents before it was cruelly extinguished. (Charlton Heston I hope you die by the gun which you revere so much – but of course it wasn’t the gun’s fault was it? You cretin!) Yoko Ono still lives in the building and apparently can quite often be seen coming and going. I must admit it would be a very convenient place to live as it is right opposite the park, right on top of a subway station and within easy walking distance of downtown Manhattan. It is also a quite beautiful building.

I returned to the park and continued my walk until I had covered the length of it and emerged in Columbia Circus. This was a hive of activity in preparation for the Thanksgiving Parade on Thursday.

I basically wandered the streets of New York until I hit Broadway again and then started heading up it. I have to say New York is one of the easiest cities to navigate that I have ever visited. Because it is arranged on a grid one knows that 49th Street will follow 50th Street (assuming one is travelling downtown) and so on. Hence if you get on the street you want it is easy to head in the direction you want. I found it quite simple.

As I was trundling up Broadway I happened to see the Iridium Jazz Club (it is right next to the Winter Garden Theatre which is currently showing Mamma Mia) and the sign for tonight’s attraction – Mr Les Paul! Hooray and hoorah, I decided to aim for the 8:00 performance and then if I missed that one I would hang around for the 10:00 one. (He does two shows every Monday – so if you are in New York; go and see it!)

I still had plenty of time as I would go back to the hostel and dump off all superfluous items, shower and change before coming back. This was going to be very easy as I had worked out how to use the subway system and located the nearest station on Broadway. (50th Street on the 1 & 9 lines – it’s the red one on a map.)

I carried on up Broadway to the intersection of 42nd Street and into Times Square. Man this place buzzes! It was noisy, full of traffic and people and bright lights – even in the afternoon. Every store front had its own illuminated sign (I think it is a law on Times Square) even the subway station and the police sub-station which had a flashing New York Police Department sign on top! (The NYPD was in red with the rest in blue and the sign illuminated from left to right – I thought it was quite cool!) The place was so vibrant it was intoxicating and infectious and I just wandered about dodging people here and there and grinning like a fool.

I spotted the Hard Rock Cafe – well one couldn’t miss it under the facade of the old Paramount Theatre – and immediately headed for it. I wonder what Holy Relics of God Past will be contained within? The main display which greets one on descending the stairs is; the set of suits and personalised TWA flight bags worn and used by The Beatles when they came to conquer America. This was flanked by Paul McCartney’s Hofner “violin” bass and George Harrison’s acoustic guitar he used at the Concerts for Bangladesh. Oh well we are off to a good start! I found the treasures just around the corner; one of Noel Redding’s shirts and original handwritten lyrics to “She’s So Strange” with, on the opposite wall, handwritten lyrics by God Past himself on Lexington Hotel paper! There was other stuff too.

Having eaten I returned to the throng of Times Square – this time I was walking around it chuckling. It was amazing to see a wall of people head towards you when the “walk” sign came on. I just stood to one side and soaked up the atmosphere. I could understand how people can say “I love New York” – I was beginning to feel that way myself.

I headed back to the hostel to dump off superfluous items and baggage and have a little rest before returning to Broadway.

When I got back to the hostel I met Peter & Christine – two more of my roommates. Peter was from New Zealand and Christine from New Brunswick in Canada and they were spending a few days in Washington and New York before heading back up to New Brunswick.
They asked me what I had seen so far and what I planned to see and we exchanged a few notes and observations on some of the sights we had covered. They recommended the Museum of Modern Arts, which was on my list, as they said there were some excellent pieces in it.
By the time we had finished chatting there was just enough time for me to shower and change before taking the Subway to 50th Street.

I joined the small queue outside the club at 7:45 and was pleased to hear that we would all get in – a big party had already been admitted and there was some doubt we would all get in.
I was allocated a very cramped and uncomfortable seat at a table with two different parties. I said good evening to them all and promised not to get in the way too much when things started. They were all rather nice and everyone was there for the purpose of seeing Les Paul – so everyone had a common bond. We chatted for a while and then the Man and the Les Paul Trio took to the stage.

Prior to this it had been announced that the previous Thursday Les Paul had been awarded the Congressional Medal of Something or other (I can’t remember the exact name) which is the highest award a person can get in the arts.

After playing a few numbers Mr. Paul engaged in some banter and was telling the audience what he did last weekend: “I went to the White House to get this award from Bush.” I didn’t join in with the boos and hisses as I was on my best behaviour – and the audience did a very good job on their own. It really does seem that the warmongering clown is not very highly regarded. I did join in with the laughter when Les (now the ice was broken I thought we could be on first name terms) was rather more disparaging about the most unpopular President since the crook Nixon.
Needless to say the music was superb and Les showed to good effect just why he is The Master. The rest of the band was excellent too, and each got their solo spot in order to impress – and they certainly impressed me. Mr. Paul, of course, demonstrated just how one can manipulate a guitar, seemingly without moving the fingers very much, and some of the sounds and the sustain he achieved were just breathtaking.

It seemed that all too soon we were being turfed out for the 10:00 audience to come in. It was a memorable experience and as one other guy said as we were using the restrooms – “well that’s another thing I can tick off the list of things to do before I croak – see Les Paul play live.”
I returned to the hostel with guitar notes still ringing in my ears and dreamed of being able to play the guitar as well as I can the fool. (Although I think the fool has more strings.)

Chicago to New York

2007-11-21T02:40:00.000Z

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

2007-11-21T02:29:00.000Z

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

2007-11-17T20:25:00.000Z

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

2007-11-17T20:23:00.000Z

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

2007-11-17T20:14:00.000Z

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

2007-11-16T00:18:00.000Z

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

2007-11-15T23:59:00.000Z

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

2007-11-15T23:47:00.000Z

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

2007-11-15T23:46:00.001Z

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

2007-11-15T23:28:00.000Z

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

2007-11-13T02:43:00.000Z

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

2007-11-13T02:38:00.000Z

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

2007-11-11T05:39:00.000Z

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

2007-11-11T01:05:00.000Z

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

2007-11-11T00:56:00.000Z

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

2007-11-11T00:52:00.000Z

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

2007-11-11T00:21:00.000Z

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.

Seattle – Day 4

2007-11-11T00:13:00.000Z

I was up in time for breakfast this morning and cooked myself waffles. They turned out so well that a guy using one of the other waffle makers (they have four) dubbed me a “waffle master” but said that perhaps “waffle ninja” might be just a bit too far. They tasted good too.

Having breakfasted and armed myself with the obligatory latte (the young lady barista asked me how I was today – I might even qualify as a regular now) I set off on my quest to the Holy Shrine. Having got to the bus stop and waited half an hour I thought I must be doing something wrong, so I put my glasses on and read the timetable properly – well the important bit like “when the tunnel is closed” these are the times the buses stop at this stop. I will explain briefly: Seattle has a very good public transport system and during the week it has an underground transit tunnel system which operates – at weekends they are shut. Awarding myself twenty idiot points and feeling a bit pissed off at my own myopic stupidity, the moment was spoiled and I decided to find out exactly where these tunnels were by looking on the map I had – a little further along 3rd Avenue!

I decided to have a walk, and headed for the Space Needle. It was nice and clear when I set off but a bunch of clouds had gathered together and followed me, so I decided to visit the Science Center instead and see how it was. I thought I would take a cloud check later.

The Pacific Science Centre currently has a display of “Colossal Fossils” on loan from China which was most impressive. The majority of the science exhibits were geared at teaching children about various aspects of science with loads of good fun interactive things to do – so I was in my element playing with all the things. Also as part of the complex was a butterfly house/farm. There were some stunning butterflies in it and a butterfly & moth display just the other side of the exit. Another intriguing exhibit was a plastic sided bee hive – complete with bees – which had a connection to the outside via a large diameter plastic tube. I wandered around it looking at everything going on for ages.

Having seen all there was to see at PSC I headed for the exit, pretty good timing really as it was only half an hour to closing time.

As the skies were now blue and cloudless I deemed it a good time to go up the Space Needle. For a structure which was completed in 1962 it still looks quite futuristic and pops up between buildings from various angles of view around Seattle.

When I got back to the hostel it was nearly dinner time so I relaxed for a while before helping myself to a huge dinner. They provide dinners at the hostel three nights a week, which is pretty amazing. Having eaten my fill I retired to the smoking room.

There were a few new faces in tonight. Andrew, an Aussie with a construction company in Slovenia, and Mark a professor from Poland. I did know, or was told, which university and subject Mark was professor in, but I have slept since and experienced what came after this – so there is no hope!
As these were older guys, close to my age, the conversations with them were easier. This was the first time I had realised the “age gap” which occurs amongst travellers. This is where I will sound incredibly ageist, but; the conversations with these two were “more mature” in the sense that they had had lives before travelling – or at least have been travelling for a long time – there was a greater depth to the “life experience” these guys had. I hope the older ones of you will understand what I mean. The younger travellers I have encountered have all been nice people, well certainly anyone mentioned favourably in this blog have been, in my opinion, but they have not: owned or paid a mortgage on a property, lived on their own very much or at all, haven’t gone through “a messy divorce” or equivalent emotional upheaval. I am not saying one has to go through all these to be “a rounded person” but those that do learn something from, and/or are affected by, these events. They lay the hinterland for ones personality. Right, that’s enough philosophy for now; it’s Party Time!

This was another of those impromptu things which just turn out to be a real laugh. Andy joined us as did Mike and Miguel. Andrew & Andy made a beer run. I battered the pinball machine up to 6 credits on one quarter (in the vernacular: “I kicked its ass!”) which I felt very proud of – especially when I sent it over the top for a second time – and “the youngsters” were suitably impressed with. If I could have donned huge Dr. Marten boots and married a Canadian, one could have imagined stepping into the film (Ken Russell’s “Tommy” by The Who – Mother) and becoming part of the machine. It was great fun anyway.
The beers arrived and so we all sat down to drink and chat. It was a wonderful social event people chatted to each other and every so on someone would “get the stage” and tell of some experience, anecdote, amusing slant on an event, embarrassment. It was one of those “slices of life” moments where all the individuals interacted independently of each other but with each other and the whole vibe of the room was an organism of its own.

More beers were procured – and drunk – before the gentle disintegration of the party began. During this period Andrew and I had sussed out our visit to the Holy Shine tomorrow. It would be different to have some company but I did have reservations about how this might affect my experience of the pilgrimage. I would see.

It transpired Andrew and I were in the same dorm so there was no problem with finding each other later in the day.

Seattle – Day 3

2007-11-04T21:56:00.000Z

Today is Halloween. They go in for this in a big way here and I still can’t understand why – apart from all the commercial exploitation which goes on. They are having a party at the hostel tonight for which they are getting in a keg of beer to be distributed free. Mike, the cook here, has told me we have to finish it – if it comes to it, between us. Hmmm, this should be interesting.

Needless to say I was too late for breakfast this morning as I didn’t wake up until 10:45. Oh well, I will sort my plans out as I go.

It was my intention to visit the Holy Shrine today so I grabbed something to eat at the bagel shop round the corner (bloody lovely, especially the beef chilli soup) armed myself with a coffee and set off to the bus stop. Having waited three quarters of an hour for the bus to take me out to Renton, and having finished my coffee, I checked the timetable and found out I had missed two of them – but hadn’t seen them. I was most mystified by this as I had been studying every bus number that came past and double checked that it stopped at the stop I was waiting at. There is more to this story later.

Having abandoned that idea for the day, I decided to visit another Holy Relic on Pine Street and Broadway. Sounds engaged, I set off for a pretty straight forward walk up Pine Street. One thing I can say about Seattle: it has a lot of hills. Having got a way up Pine Street, which was all uphill at this point, I turned around to see how far I had come and was most surprised to see how much elevation I had gained. I was looking down on a large part of the city which sloped off to the waterfront and Puget Sound; I was quite surprised and took a photo of it.

Having made the intersection with Broadway I looked over the road and spotted the slightly disappointing Holy Relic. It was a life-size bronze statue just mounted on the pavement (sidewalk) beside the road. I felt it should have been on a large marble plinth, floodlit at night, and play through a medley of songs in load volume so that the whole city would hear God’s Voice and be able to navigate by it. I also felt it should have had at least a dozen disciples in attendance at any one time; however I was the only one. I paid homage, sacrificed a small animal as no small child was available, and offered my soul in exchange for talent. Either my soul wasn’t worth much, or the talent bestowed was so small as to be invisible – so I gave up on that one too.
I walked back to the hostel with Jimi ringing in my ears and a big grin on my face.

I got back in time for pumpkin soup – a lovely creation by Mike – and then got showered & changed in time for the party.

It was a good time and, as usual, the Aussies “stepped up to the plate” as party drivers. We managed to empty the keg in less than two hours so a few people were sent on a beer run.

There was a lull in the proceedings about 2:30 so I took this to be a good cue to head for bed – and did so! That was Halloween out of the way.

Seattle – Day 2

2007-11-04T21:12:00.000Z

As I had a slow start to the day – surprise, surprise – and got chatting to my new roommate – James an Aussie who arrived last night.

I decided to head for the Experience Music Project today. What a surprise when I found out that the ticket covers admission to the Science Fiction Museum and Hall of Fame – childhood here I come!

I acquired a coffee and set off on the short walk to the Seattle Centre. This was very easy to find – even without looking at the map beforehand – as one just heads for the Space Needle.

The Sci-Fi Museum was excellent and had loads of exhibits & artefacts from all sorts of books, TV & film productions. I was in my element and also very pleased to see the amount of coverage Red Dwarf received – they even had a couple of costumes worn by Cat in the series. (Meee-oww, man I look so sharp!)

Next up was the Experience Music Project. This is superb, especially the installation which greets visitors as they enter it. This is a huge inverted pyramid, well probably more like a cone, of 700 instruments, mainly guitars, which stands a good 10 metres tall and plays itself. It does contain a number of custom made guitars which are computer controlled and play themselves - or more correctly, are played by the computer. One can listen to this on several sets of headphones that are ranged around it and I was impressed at how good it sounded. I stole the picture from someone else as I was not brave or reckless enough to take pictures in the light of the “no photography” signs and numbers of security staff. This was a bit of a shame because all the bits I wanted to photograph were right at the beginning. The one disappointment I had was the big sign informing visitors that the Jimi Hendrix exhibits had been “down scaled” in order to preserve some of the more fragile items. I was also gutted to find out this had only taken place in August of this year. I had to console myself with only a few Holy Relics to gaze upon, but I did get to kneel before the guitar he used at Woodstock – the white Strat.

I was watching the film loop dedicated to and detailing the life of God Past when this voice said “Bloody hell Phil, how are you man?” It was Chris the Aussie I had met in Vancouver who had set off on a road trip to Mexico. I asked him how it went and he told me the van they had bought for the journey packed up in Oregon and they had to hire a car to complete the journey. We had a brief exchange of updates but were both distracted by higher things and parted with a hasty “we will have to get together for a beer soon” as Chris is staying with one of his mates in Belltown (just round the corner from the Space Needle) for a week or so. I said that would be fine as my plans are flexible and I could easily spend a week or two in Seattle. We will make plans by email.

I read every dot and comma in the guitar exhibit, which detailed the birth, rise and development of the electric guitar. A lot of this was helped by the collaboration of Les Paul with Gibson guitars and it made me wonder what might have been achieved in the present time if Jimi had been in collaboration with one of the guitar manufacturers or what he might have done with the SynthAxe. One can only speculate, hallucinate and dream.

The music studio part I could have spent a day in on its own. This was wonderful, giving one the chance to play with all manner of musical instruments; guitars – lead & bass, drums, keyboards, effects pedals, mixing desks, record decks and everything. I might have to re-visit this place in its own right. In fact I know I will because by the time I got to the Sky Church I didn’t have enough time to see the whole “service” as the place was shutting.

Having been ejected by the exhaustion of opening hours I emerged into Seattle Centre and realised why I was so bloody hungry – I hadn’t eaten since breakfast!
I decided to postpone my trip up the Space Needle as I needed food. It is quite amazing how one can be oblivious of something whilst occupied and immersed in something else and then when that occupation finishes things all come back with a vengeance. I settled for junk in the form of Taco Del Mar and then had a gentle stroll back to the hostel.

I was sitting in the smoking room chatting to Andy – an Aussie from Melbourne – when the four Goths from Calgary came in. These were John, Richard, Ashley and Natasha who had come down for a Halloween gig. We all got chatting and then Andy made a beer run and we all sat about drinking and chatting. More people joined in and Anthony (another Aussie) & I started battering the pin ball machine they have. It was like rekindling an old addiction! We caned the thing up to six games on one quarter which was pretty good value for money I thought.

After putting the world to rights and finishing all the beer it was mutually decided to turn in for the night but as it was 3:10 we decided to turn in for the morning. Having said all our “goodnights” we did just that.

I crawled into bed and sleep in about thirty seconds.

Seattle – Day 1

2007-11-04T20:57:00.001Z

Today was a bit of a “rest day” only in the sense that I didn’t walk very far afield today. I spent most of it sitting in front of my laptop getting the log entries up to date and posted.

I did have a stroll around the world famous Pike Street Market, which was quite amazing and full of everything. The famous fish stall near the entrance was quite a feast of entertainment as the guys do a little act from time to time which entails throwing a large fish over the counter.
I did my usual several blocks walk around to get myself orientated and tried out “Seattle’s Best Coffee” which did not disappoint (still wasn’t quite as good as Serious Coffee though).

As previously stated I spent virtually all day typing up my blog entries and getting them posted up to the point of leaving Anchorage. Having done that it was late evening and the only thing open nearby was a Subway shop, so I had to have a format “sandwich” as my evening meal. Everything half decent nearby shuts at eight so I will have to bear this in mind.

Having sacrificed my first full day for you dear reader, I decided to get an early night in order to plan my pilgrimage activities over the next couple of days as I am in the holy city of God Past – James Marshall Hendrix.

The Experience Music Project will be visited as will the statue on Broadway and, of course, homage will be paid at the Holy Shrine – the least I can do is say “thank you”.
I will have to get a picture of the mural on the smoking room wall which shows a wonderful montage of Seattle. I will post it on a future blog entry and you will see what I mean.

My first impressions of Seattle are good, the place has a good vibe to it and music tends to be playing (all sorts) wherever one goes. I look forward to exploring it.

Anchorage to Seattle

2007-11-04T20:51:00.000Z

It was still dark when I got up – I have got used to it now – and it had gone 9:00. No matter, I have plenty of time and I am packed & ready to go.

I put a gallon of gas in the Grunt Monster to ensure I got it back to the airport – it was helpfully flashing a sign at me saying “Low Fuel” – as I was more concerned with how I would transport my luggage than anything else.

I dropped the car off and went in search of my check-in desk. This turned out to be in the South Terminal, so I got the shuttle bus and found the check-in desk.

Bags dropped off and boarding pass secured I cleared security and got something to eat. Sat and read my book for a while and then the flight was called.

As it was free I decided to watch the in-flight movie: The Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer. If anyone went to the cinema and paid money (any amount) to see this – you were had! It was a typical no-brain-required ridiculous film and helped pass the time on an aircraft when it was dark outside. By the time it was over I had enough time for a quick doze before we landed in Seattle.

It was much warmer here. Everyone else seemed to be huddled in big coats whilst I was undoing mine. I got the bus into town; a twenty minute journey costing $1.25. As it was dark when I got off the bus I didn’t have any idea which direction I should be heading in, but I knew the hostel was close. I asked a guy in the street where Pike Street was and he duly gave me directions. Thirty seconds later he was chasing me down the street to tell me it was two blocks over and not one – sorry. I thanked him very much for bothering to let me know and the amended direction brought me right out opposite the hostel.

Having checked in and dumped all my stuff I grabbed a coffee and headed down to the smoking room. Yes, they have a smoking room here – yippee. One can go outside if one wishes but it is much more civilised to sit and chat to people in the warm whilst killing yourself.

I had intended to get an early night but this fell by the wayside when I entered the smoking room. There were three guys sitting around playing acoustic guitars and a bunch of other people sitting around listening, so I joined them. Another guy – Andy from Melbourne – came in with his guitar and then there were four. Another group of people came in containing Ivan and Charlie from Southampton – they were laden with the equivalent of a crate of beer and proceeded to distribute it amongst the masses. So I sat there drinking some beers and chatting to people around me. After a few beers we got into a sing-song going through some Oasis & Beatles numbers. We all got warned about the noise at one point so we kept quiet for a while. The final handful of straw was added to the camel’s back when we got into a very spirited and loud rendition of Tom Petty’s Freefalling and then the guy from the front desk came in and threw us all out of the smoking room as he could hear us out at the front desk. Party broke up about 1:30 so I thought it must be time for bed. It was great fun though and we all had a great laugh. The combination of four acoustic guitars (until a string broke on one of them) was really powerful so we had to sing loudly to be heard! There were handshakes & smiles all round as people began to drift off to their rooms.

I crept into my room very quietly and didn’t disturb anyone judging by the level of snoring, which remained unchanged.
I slept very soundly.

Fairbanks to Anchorage

2007-10-30T07:05:00.000Z

Outside the motel was a clock and thermometer. When I first awoke the temperature was 26 degrees. Please remember the Americans are the only retarded country in the world still using imperial measurements and Fahrenheit temperature scales. This is a totally stupid scale – what the hell is it based on? The Celsius scale is based on water – the most common compound on earth and 70%, or more, component of all life on the planet – zero being the freezing point and 100 being the boiling point (taken at sea level, yes). So we have this ridiculous scale running from 32 for freezing to 212 for boiling, so where is the sense in that? Any answer other than “none” is wrong.

Anyway, I managed to work out that t-shirt and no jacket would not be a good idea as it was below freezing. I also noticed the snow in the night had covered all the tracks I had noticed before I fell asleep – so we’d had about 5cm – a light dusting in local terms.

I got myself something to eat at the Denny’s next door to the hotel because I thought I had better start out full ready for the drive to Anchorage – about 318 miles. Having ensured that the car & myself were fully fuelled it was time to slide my way out of Fairbanks.

Once I had got myself on the south bound Highway 1 I could concentrate on keeping the Grunt Monster going straight forwards as opposed to sideways. This was not due to over-zealous use of acceleration but the fact that ice on roads with a bend in them will tend to make things slide sideways. Having cleared Fairbanks things improved until well into Denali National park – where they got “a bit slippy” again. I did take the opportunity of daylight to stop at some of the scenic views on the way back and it was well worth it.

The roads cleared up as I headed further south with just another dodgy patch as I hit Willow again and then everything was plain sailing into Anchorage.

I was also really pleased with myself in finding the hostel first time when I entered Anchorage’s urban sprawl. The variable speed limits do help as they can be 65, 55, 45, or 35mph depending on whether one is on open highway or in town. (If one is approaching a school bus stop and the lights are flashing the speed limit is 20mph.) As most people stick to speed limits (the fines are quite harsh I am told) then it does give one time to read road signs and get in the correct lane.

When I arrived several people I had met were still there and asked me how the trip went. I spent quite a while chatting to Eric about the places I had been and he was embellishing parts of what more, or different, can be had in different seasons. Like in summer when they get 23 hours of daylight in Fairbanks, or in winter where they get 3 hours of daylight. He was most enthusiastic about Alaska and that was why he stayed there – because it is special. I have had a taster of what the locals can get hooked on and can understand why.

I had a different dorm this time, but I had it all to myself so I wasn’t complaining. After getting everything sorted out and packed for departure I had something to eat and checked emails. I also checked my flight and hostel bookings to ensure there hadn’t been any changes or alterations – there hadn’t, so I went to bed and slept soundly.

I knew I could afford to have a lie in tomorrow as my flight wasn’t until 17:10 and I didn’t have to get the car back until 15:00, so a leisurely start to the day would be fine.

Homer – Fairbanks

2007-10-30T06:42:00.000Z

This will be the longest leg of my road trip and will take me furthest north. (I wrote that bit yesterday.)

I am now in Fairbanks at the end of the most amazing, terrifying and exhilarating drives of my life and I am very proud to have done it! The story unfolds thus:

I awoke in my “captain’s cabin” shortly before 8:00 and was up and ready to roll by 8:30. As it wasn’t playing monsoon outside I decided to drive to the end of Homer Spit. I am glad I did as I got some lovely photographs of the sun rising over the mountains. I could imagine how dodgy it must be to try to get to the end of the spit in a raging storm – I know the signs warning of dangerous waves and the road becoming immersed weren’t just for fun. Having seen it in the pouring rain yesterday I didn’t have to stretch my imagination that much.. Having had a little walk around and taken some pictures I decided to crack on with my journey as I was wondering if I might have bitten off more than I could chew in my intentions. We shall see.

The journey back up Highway 1 was just a retrace of yesterday’s with the exception of a detour to Girdwood. This is a lovely little resort townette. It is a resort and resort centre at the end nearest the mountain and as one travels towards the Highway (or from it) it comprises of sod-off houses with umpty-something bedrooms (by the size and numbers of windows) and large grounds. Unfortunately neither the chair lifts nor cable cars (they call it a “tram” – although it has no tracks) were in operation as they were “closed for the season”. Shame, I would have gone on one or the other. The helicopters and planes were still operating, but I ruled those out on grounds of time and cost – I would like to get to Fairbanks in daylight if possible.

Having returned to Highway 1 I “set the controls for the heart of the sun” and Anchorage. Using Douglas Adams very cleaver guide to flying (throw oneself at the ground and at the last possible minute – miss) I missed Anchorage and headed north. The highway takes one through several small towns and I stopped in Willow for fuel. Having charmed another lady with my accent I continued on feeling much happier that I had a “full tank of gas”.

The snow started falling with a vengeance. This wasn’t too much of a problem until I encountered the part of the road where it had settled. The further north I went the worse the conditions got and the more “interesting” the bends got. It was at this time I had my three big fears spring to mind:-

1. Hitting something big – like a moose. Moose are VERY big when seen close up, bigger than horses, and would total the car.
2. Sliding off the road – the roads are raised and even if I didn’t roll the car over getting back on the road would be very hard indeed.
3. Being hit by something coming the other way – although that was the lesser of the evils as there seemed to be very little/no traffic anywhere.

I could begin to see why all these people drive small penis mobiles – the lack of temperature is a perfect excuse – as the extra traction of a 16 would be useful in regaining the highway. I could also understand how people can get stranded and die from exposure, especially if their vehicle was damaged preventing the running of a heater.

I stopped at the “Medal of Honor Memorial” (That is how they spell it) to use the toilet and have a look whilst I was there. The snow came half way up my shins when I got out of the car and in places where it had drifted it was up to my knees. It was only when I was coming back from the toilet I noticed the big notice board (one of many) detailing the varieties of bear they get around here – basically all of them! (Black, Brown & Grizzly) It is silly, I know, and looking back on it now I laugh at myself but I suddenly had this wave of unnatural fear come over me. Here I was in the middle of nowhere with no one around shin deep in snow with snow falling and the possibilities of hungry bears or wolves around! I got a grip on myself and waded to the memorial in order to take a few photographs and stretch my legs. I ran through the “Things not to do when encountering a bear” list i.e. DO NOT RUN – they have a chase instinct, do not look the bear in the eye – they take this as challenge behaviour, remain still and calm. Failing that turn around pick up a handful of poo and throw it at the bear because if the first three haven’t worked the poo will definitely be there! I just whistled a tune as I did my “Scott of the Antarctic” impersonation even though I was at the wrong end of the world. (I was nearer to the Arctic!)

Having regained the safety and warmth of the car I decided to head onwards and stop at the first motel/hotel/hostel/tent I could find. Getting out of the memorial parking place was fun and required the judicious use of forward and reverse thrust – traction control helps but doesn’t ensure miracles. I also harboured a thought of being stuck there overnight but relied on my strength of will, right foot, and however many horsepower were at my disposal. After exhausting four horses I was out and back on the highway.

There must be some stupid twist in “the English gene” which makes us go forward into adversity (perhaps it is just plain stupidity – I don’t know) but that is what I did. The road got worse to the point of the “traction control active” indicator being on more often than not. I did pass a few motels – all shut – and was beginning to think about executing a U-turn (brave, brave Sir Robin) when I entered the Denali National Park.

The roads were clear the snow had stopped falling and it was evening time. Oh well, I thought, might as well carry on now – so I did. The drive was very interesting with some bendy roads and straight bits wending through the Alaska Range of mountains (the one that contains Mount McKinley) and promising all sorts of glorious views if it was daylight.

A little later on I was looking around and checking the mirror to see what bastard was flashing me. I found out the bastard’s name – The Moon. The moon had risen, a bright full moon in a cloudless sky. One could almost have driven with no lights on it was that bright. (Don’t worry Mummy, I didn’t try it.) The flickering or flashing effect was caused by the stand of trees alongside the road and once I got into the mountains the trees had gone and the moonshine was unimpeded. It gave the mountains a totally different look, especially the snow covered peaks, which appeared to shine with a bluish hue. The mountainsides in direct moon light looked to be fashioned from hammered silver and the wonderful ethereal glow that moon light gives was really prominent in the cold clean mountain air. It was quite breathtaking and worth the hardship of the snow in itself.

The journey time had been, obviously, longer than I had anticipated but as I was approaching Fairbanks with cloudless moonlit skies I had high hopes of seeing the Northern Lights. However, this did not last long as the clouds rolled in blotting out the moon and shedding snow in their wake. I had also heard before, but totally forgotten that Fairbanks was hosting the AFN Convention. This is the Alaskan Federation of Natives and consists of several tribes coming together in a big show (like the old Gang Show used to be) and attended by lots of people. As a result all the hostels, motels and hotels were fully booked, but I managed to find a bed at the Super 8 Motel as the result of a cancellation. Not having much of a choice – that or the car – I took it and hoped I might get to see something of the Northern Lights after all.

I got some more of this written up whilst the adrenaline seeped out of my body (I was three days behind) but the cloud refused to clear off and I didn’t get to see the Northern Lights after all. I traded this for still being alive and having seen the Denali National Park by moonlight, and for having been able to straighten out a sliding car on ice. On the whole a disappointing but fair swap. I will just have to come back and see them another time. In fact Alaska is definitely a place I would like to return to – and spend far more time seeing so many things.

Spank refused to come out when he saw the snow and was quite rude in letting me know he was a jungle dweller – i.e. warm temperate climates, not bloody freezing – so I let him sulk in peace.
I eventually crawled into bed about 1:00am when I actually started to feel tired and dropped off straight away.

Seward – Homer

2007-10-30T06:28:00.000Z

It was dark when I woke up at 8:00 so it threw me out a bit. This is normal for this time of year here as the sun doesn’t rise until 9:00. I was all ready to go and checked out by sunrise.

As it had been a week or so since I “spoke to the folks back home” and I had purchased a new ‘phone card in Anchorage, I telephoned Mother and had a long chat to her. I had tried ringing Ameleah to wish her “Happy Birthday” but there was no reply – no matter I will try later (must remember I am up to nine hours difference from the UK) but must make it before 14:00.

Having done that I set off for Homer. This entailed retracing my steps back to Highway 1 and then heading south. The weather was getting progressively worse as I went turning from rain to snow. As I was getting hungry I decided a refuelling stop, for me, was the order of the day so I stopped at a typical little roadside diner. The pull in was ankle deep in snow and where it had been well trafficked it was just thick ice, which made me grateful for the traction control and ABS on the Grunt Monster.

I asked if they had a ‘phone in the diner and the helpful lady just spun the telephone around that was sitting beside the till and said “there you go”. I asked if it will be ok to use with my ‘phone card to which she said “sure honey, and I just love your accent” (another one I’d charmed by speaking). I called Millie and wished her happy birthday and discovered, as expected, that my card hadn’t arrived on time. I hoped a week would be enough especially as I sent it air mail from Juneau – and I know Juneau has an airport! If it is any consolation I was thinking of you on the day – and do often.

Having eaten whilst watching the small waterfall coming off the roof from the melting snow, it was time to hit the road again. The sun had come out and all looked well as I continued to Homer. The landscape here flattens out remarkably and the mountains are only distant humps. Either side of the road are flat plains with short firs growing on them which was a total contrast from the earlier scenery where one was always looking at a mountainside of some description. It was quite strange seeing so much sky. I knew my luck wouldn’t hold as it started bucketing down when I got about forty miles from Homer. It continued in this vain accompanied by a vicious wind which could switch the rain from vertical to horizontal at every blast. This was most spectacular when I got to the Homer Spit. I have to confess that I chickened out of driving to the end through the grey curtain which hid the end of it. I took one look at the sign reading “WARNING Waves may cover causeway in bad weather” realised it told no lies and turned back into main town Homer.

I found a motel down by the waterside as the main drag places were full or shut for the season.

My room was like a little captain’s cabin and was lovely and snug. The place over the road “Duggan’s Pub” had their steak night special going, so I enjoyed a steak dinner and a pint for $20.

When I got back to my little cabin Spank was playing with the ship’s wheel and I decided to let him have a treat and watch some TV. We found the Cartoon Network was showing Futurama followed by Family Guy so that was wonderful.

After that it was lights out – literally!

Anchorage – Seward

2007-10-30T06:10:00.000Z

I awoke by 8:00 and was breakfasted and ready to roll by 10:30. Most of the delay was spent defrosting the car as we had had another light downfall of snow and frost. I let the thing consume 25 litres of fuel idling whilst all the windows cleared and the heater worked most efficiently. Whilst this was happening I sat and had a coffee, smoke and chat with Roger, who is a supervisor in Denali National Park during spring & summer. Roger is one of those instantly likeable blokes who is witty, fun and gentle of nature. He reminded me of an American version of Roger “Deke” Leonard in his views and outlooks (laid back and liberal). I will have to ask him if he plays the guitar. He had lent me a couple of maps and gave me some pointers on directions and landmarks. He rounded it off with the summary “Alaska only has one real highway, and that is named Highway 1.” I was due to stay another night at the hostel but I had a word with Jason and postponed my night to Saturday when I return to Anchorage in time to fly to Seattle on Sunday.

Getting on the right road was simple – especially as it was daylight (in fact very bright sunlight) – as all I had to do was hang a left on Tudor Road. (This was pronounced Two-Door by the taxi-driver guy who gave me a lift to the airport. It confused me until I saw the name and then translation was easy.) Following that one gets to Highway 1 where one can go north or south. I went south.

The highway was sparsely trafficked, which suited me nicely, and in places covered in packed snow but I just kept the Grunt Monster at a constant 60mph, thanks to cruise control, (the speed limit is 65mph) and avoided any rapid movements of the steering wheel. This disappeared after a few miles and the road was clear and dry. There was one point where I was dawdling down the road watching the scenery and a huge Mack truck rounded a bend and appeared in my rear view mirror. I had a momentary flashback to “Duel” and stamped on the “gas pedal” which caused the monster to growl, sit down at the back and take off. Having put rather a large distance between us I slowed down and pulled in to the next stopping place to let the truck pass. It did, without bellowing its horn at me or trying to run me over or push me off a cliff! Duel flashback over. I rejoined the highway and went back to dawdling and watching the scenery.

The scenery was stunning as the road follows the mountain range through a pass and then along the coast. I had to stop myself from pulling into every parking bay and scenic photograph spot otherwise the journey would have taken a day and a half! (Well it wouldn’t; because it would have got dark – and that would have stopped me.) Having now convinced myself that I will see as much beautiful scenery as I pass – I made progress. I also found Mix FM on the radio which seemed to play just the right music for rolling through the scenery: Eddie Grant, ZZ Top, Pearl Jam, etc.

Another memorable part of the journey was when one of my crowns came out as I was cruising along Highway 9 (that’s the other highway which runs to Seward) chewing some gum. I retrieved it from my mouth and stuck it in my jacket pocket. I will have to see about getting it refitted when I get to Seattle. (I expect they have dentists there.)

I pulled into Seward mid-afternoon and had a cruise around it. Most places were shut for the season, including most of the hotels and all the hostels. I settled for a Holiday Inn:

1. Because it was open
2. It had Internet access

Having dumped all my bags, I unpacked the laptop got it connected to the Internet and started downloading the RWC Final. I then went out for something to eat.

I found a wonderful little diner in town and devoured a three course meal accompanied by lots of coffee. One thing I really like here is that once you get a cup of coffee and empty it, they just keep refilling it until you say “no”.

Feeling stuffed and ready to just sit in a chair I returned to my hotel to do just that.

Well, I actually got to watch the Rugby World Cup Final. Yes, it was disappointing but the better side won. Despite the incorrect refereeing decisions – there were three critical ones:-

· The turnover scrum just before half time. Smit was standing upright in the middle of the scrum! When was that rule changed?
· Mark Cueto’s try – which clearly was a try. 15-11 or 15-13 would have been a more reflective, and fairer, score line.
· The body check on Cueto as he followed up his kick – Smit knew exactly what he was doing (watch it again and see him look over his shoulder before stepping in front of Cueto) and should have gone to the bin for it. The penalty from where the ball landed would have made a difference too!

I wouldn’t say we were robbed because losing 7 or 8 of your own lineouts at that level of play is critical. Enough said; we move on.

I crawled off to bed and didn’t bother setting an alarm as I was sure I would be up early enough to get going and get to Homer comfortably.

Anchorage – Day 1

2007-10-30T06:01:00.000Z

My first full day in Anchorage started late – not intentionally – for which I blame the mountain air because I crawled into bed and died. I remember getting up a couple of times to go to the toilet but it was dark and I didn’t notice times until I woke up for real at 10:00 – which means I slept for 12 hours! The nice surprise when I did get up was to find a thin layer of snow over everything. It appears the snow fairy came out to play last night.

As someone had made the coffee using the bleached water Jason was soaking the jug in overnight – coffee was off, so Roger & I walked over to the “gas station”/convenience store to get a coffee. Good bloke reminded me I wanted a ‘phone card as I’d mentioned it to him and then forgot to get one. He also taught me the “Alaskan shuffle” for walking on compacted snow and ice as one can’t “walk regular” in those conditions. (I am quite pleased that I am learning new languages on my travels!)

A few hours later having chatted to Roger & Eric about various things and watching Orange County burn under these wild fires they have sweeping across California and New Orleans flood again in torrential rain, I thought I’d better “get my ass in gear” (more foreign language. Or I could have used “get my shit together”) and organise something.
[Observation from news channel: They showed speeches about the wild fires and the damage they are causing – enough for it to be declared an emergency zone – from both Governor Schwarzenegger and President Bush and guess who was the most fluent and eloquent? (Clue: his first language is not English.) Hasta La Vista Baby!]

I rang the number of a car hire place Jason recommended and hired a car. One of the guys staying here is a taxi driver who was off today, so he ran me to the airport to pick up the car. Having completed all the formalities I located the vehicle and promptly attempted to get in the wrong side – that is the seat without a steering wheel in front of it! I covered this mistake very well by adjusting the passenger seat so that it wasn’t tilted forward and blocking full view out of the passenger side window and then got in the driver’s side. Having adjusted all the mirrors to suit I started the thing up. I have no problem driving automatics, in fact it adapts well to my lazy style, however I was rather surprised by the responsiveness of the thing – it is a red Pontiac Grand Prix and I don’t know how many horses it hides under its bonnet (hood) but I reckon there are enough to pull a fully laden Wells Fargo stagecoach at a fair lick all day long. It also appears they have been fed on steroid enhanced hay because if one treads on the “gas pedal” quite heavily it gives a gleeful little leap forward and makes a deep growly noise. In the vernacular I believe “it will haul ass”, so I look forward to playing with it on an open empty highway – sensibly of course. I did have one disappointment though; my penis did not automatically double in size when I got in it – still one can’t have everything. I found my way back to the hostel with no problem, thanks to a good sense of direction, and didn’t have any problem being on the wrong side of the road either. I was beginning to look forward to my little road trip.

I then proceeded to book my flight out of Anchorage to coincide with returning the car and for several reasons opted to fly to Seattle rather than straight to New York. I checked out hostels in Seattle and made reservations accordingly – Green Tortoise here I come.

Along the way I will find somewhere which has wireless Internet connection so I can post these entries up to date. The hostel has Internet access but via their PCs and wires. I did pick up some more emails and will reply to them when I get more access time, so apologies for the delays folks, but I am in “The Last Frontier”. (Alaska’s state motto.)
Having done all that I felt I had earned something to eat (and I felt hungry) so I decided to drive out and find somewhere. This was wonderful until I came to return – it had got dark! Things are different in darkness as I am sure you are aware.
Landmarks are not visible and street signs not as easy to see, so I am sure you will not be surprised to learn that I spent nearly an hour getting hopelessly lost in Anchorage before heading back out to the airport and retracing my route from earlier. Once I’d got there, and reverting to the vernacular again: “piece of piss”.

Well tomorrow is the “Great Alaskan Expedition” (I know I will be seeing only the elephant’s pimple) so I am getting my head down to be all refreshed for making a Grand Prix of myself in the morning.

Juneau – Anchorage

2007-10-30T05:43:00.000Z

Today I head from the capital of, to the largest city in, Alaska. I am afraid I am increasing my carbon footprint to one encased in a boot because I am flying, but I want to get there inside a week!

I had got everything packed up and ready to go so I headed off for a last Heritage coffee and to order up a taxi to get me to the airport.

This duly arrived on time and I was at the airport in plenty of time to check in and have something to eat. I had a bit of a scare at the check in desk as my bag was overweight – one is only allowed 50 pounds as check in luggage although it can be spread over three bags. As there was no one else waiting to check in, and the woman on the check in desk was very kind, I kept removing things from it and stuffing them into my carry-on bag until I hit the magic 50 (spot on as well). When I proceeded to the security check this is when I had a problem. One of the things I had transferred was my washing bag, so my shaving foam and bottle of water were duly confiscated. No matter it saved me carrying them.

The flight left on time and took 90 minutes offering some stunning views of the mountain ranges we passed over. (I can’t remember the names of them without the aid of a map – so I pass that burden to you dear reader.)

To land at Anchorage International Airport the planes fly out over the sea, hang a big U turn and come in to the airport – that was quite impressive in itself. Anchorage seems to be a sending off and receiving point for quite a few US Military personnel. The sending off bit might all be a bit gung-ho but when the coming back with bits missing part comes around I suppose it is best to hide them all away “way up north” where it is quiet. I won’t relate the gut churning conversation I overheard in the Juneau departure lounge, but I will say I kept my mouth shut and didn’t vomit on anyone!

Having reclaimed my bag and not knowing where I was heading for – I had booked my hostel place, I just didn’t know where it was – I resorted to a taxi. This was most fortuitous as the taxi driver was telling me all the real places to go “hell, you don’t want to spend all your time in Anchorage, it’s just a city like any other.” Like others before him he recommended Seward and Homer and said it was a beautiful drive, if I was going to hire a car. I thought I would mull this over.

The hostel is a bit rough and ready but everyone in it is very friendly and I have a dorm to myself. Most of the people here are workers or in the process of getting work arranged. It is quite amazing to me just how much personal stuff people will tell you as the result of a question like; “what brings you to Anchorage or Alaska?” Even if it might be bullshit, one wouldn’t invent that sort of personal crap to spout at someone (a complete stranger) would they? I don’t know – but I am in America.

As I said, everyone is friendly and will chat. The first guy I met, Roger, came out and greeted me and immediately confiscated my bag in order to carry it into the hostel himself. I met Eric next who reminded me of Donald “Duck” Dunn from the Blues Brothers (well he is actually a renowned muso in his own right). I will have to ask him if he plays the bass. I also got to meet Jason the hostel owner who is also a nice bloke and basically tries to help out all his guests – travellers or otherwise.

Having got settled I then went to the local Wal-Mart. Now I know they are a large company and dabble in many things but this Wal-Mart one could park a jumbo jet in and turn it around (possibly two) – it was vast and contained everything from clothing to shot guns (yes, roll up folks get your 2 for 1 deals on firearms from your local Wal-Mart). They also do a nice range of bows & arrows – the hunting kind you could kill a child or adult or dear, ox or moose with. Since the recent school shootings they have very conscientiously stopped selling hand guns – can you feel the sarcasm and scorn dripping from these words? I have to confess to the typical Brit fascination with this display of weaponry and thought “well they do look nice and well made and obviously wouldn’t kill anyone on their own because that nice Mr. Heston says they don’t, it’s the people using them...” Don’t worry I am taking the piss because some of the people I have encountered here (watching shoppers in Wal-Mart was interesting and amusing) I would not trust with a pea shooter let alone any sort of firearm! This “wise and socially minded” move on Wal-Mart’s part has not made any difference to the state of affairs as I heard two more reports of school shootings on the news that day – one of them involving parents in a gun-fight - resulting in fatalities from the nasty humans misusing the nice guns! (Do I hear “hallelujah” for the NRA? Do I bollocks!)

Another word of warning UK residents: as we sell out to the great “US Dream” and embrace all the shit Hallmark and associates want to vomit on us – Halloween is coming! The tons of crap and junk one can/has to buy in relation to this is colossal. There is such a big hype leading up to the door to door begging season I felt quite sick (and still do as it hasn’t gone away yet). There are also loads of bollocks to be had with “Boss’s Day”, “Secretary’s Day”, “Pets Day” and a plethora of others I have purged from my mind. My only advice is don’t get involved with all this shit – it will only waste your money, create more rubbish for landfills and make some scum-bag corporation richer for having sold us a crock of shit and convinced us we should be happy and grateful to buy it. Beware! You have been warned!

Having walked round the hanger twice and replaced the items I lost to the TSA I then headed back to the hostel to dump off my purchases and get something to eat.

Suitably stuffed I returned to the hostel and had “a little lie down”. It was only 9:30 but I was knackered and full and it was very warm in my room. I fell asleep on my bed only to wake up at 4:00 am in order to get undressed and into bed. Then I went back to sleep again – like a Redwood log!

Juneau – Day 2

2007-10-25T08:57:00.000+01:00

The day didn’t start particularly well when Greg, the guy on the reception desk, asked me if I caught the game yesterday. I know he was asking out of interest and was unaware of the pain I suffered in failing dismally to see it.

Well, as suspected Juneau was shut for the day! I toured around the points of interest listed on the “Historic Juneau” map. The only things I did get to see were the bits outside, i.e. statues and monuments. Closed buildings viewed from the outside:-
Federal Building, Governor’s House, House of Wickersham, St. Nicholas Orthodox Church, Scottish Rite Temple, Alaska State Capital, Juneau-Douglas City Museum, Alaska State Museum, State Office Building.

Having realised I could have seen some of these places if I hadn’t wasted my day yesterday only brought back some of the gloom and the steadily falling rain didn’t help. Everything was grey. The wind at times was particularly vicious and was instrumental in my abandoning ideas of doing one of the hiking trails. It started from out by the waterfront and after being struck about the head body and legs with flying debris – mostly wood – I decided “bugger this for a game of soldiers and found the Heritage Cafe was open. I treated myself to a mega latte and got stuck into some book reading.

I did venture into “The Hanger on the Bay” for lunch which afforded a wonderful view of the bay as it was whipped up into whitecaps by the wind. With the ebony brooding mountains in the background shrouded in shredded dark grey clouds, one would not have been surprised to see a sailing ship bearing Dracula’s coffin heave into view having been blown off course for Whitby. A few cawing crows and howling wolves would have finished the scene off perfectly.

One of the highlights of my day was meeting a couple of morons, oh sorry, Mormons on the street. Bearing in mind it was pissing down with rain – and they didn’t have a celestial umbrella with them – and I was wet and miserable, they didn’t pick the best time to try and save my already soggy and jaded soul. The idiots tried to tell me that some bloke named Jesus died for me to be saved. I refrained from telling them that the only people who died for me to be free were in a civil war and two world wars – the second being the most important. There may have been some people named Jesus involved but I never heard of them in the popular war stories. If they want some fictitious bloke to be their lord and master then fine, but don’t try and sell it to me. I actually said to them “If that is your delusion of choice then I respect that, but I don’t share it. Have a nice day.” They then asked me if there was anyone I knew they could talk to. As if I would inflict that sort of bullshit on anyone I knew and didn’t want to offend, let alone friends. I said “I haven’t a clue, I am only visiting here.” They asked where from and I told them the UK to which they replied “there are missionaries there you know.” Of course I know, I’ve had the bastards invade my space and privacy by ringing my door bell! I said “Yes, the UK is infested too.” In the hope they would go away without me being rude to them. “Well if you want to talk to any of us or need any questions answered, get in touch.” What is this? Are they on some sort of “celestial points scheme” or are they saving points on their “salvation clubcard” to get a free toaster? If these deranged people believe they have found “the answer”, and it is true, then it will come to everyone in time. Don’t try and peddle it to me.

After this I headed for the Heritage Cafe to indulge my sinful caffeine habit – but it was shut! I suppressed the urge to go and find them just to let them know that Jesus saved me from a coffee because being morons and Americans the irony would be lost on them unless it was in the form of a spear.

Having had an all-round depressing day of achieving nothing I went in search of food and the hostel.

I treated myself to a game of Supreme Commander where I could strategically and systematically destroy Mormons, lying bitches in sports bars and foul elements with the use of Heavy Artillery and Experimental Gunships. It was great fun and I won. As I was playing on a large map it took longer than I thought and it was midnight by the time I got to bed.
Never mind, I would be moving on tomorrow so there was something new to look forward to.

Juneau – Day 1

2007-10-25T08:43:00.000+01:00

Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks! BOLLOCKS! Typical lying Yanks, you just can’t believe them can you? Whether it’s convincing your idiot suppository of a Prime Minister an illegal and immoral war is not, or whether it is lying to you about screening the Rugby World Cup Final, to me it is all the same! As one might have guessed I am very pissed off at the moment! I am also looking for the fastest way out of Juneau – it has become soured and I want to be somewhere else!

At the time of writing I still don’t know the outcome – that will come later.
I will try to moderate the invective and recount my day, although I can’t promise it might be in full force by the time I catch up with now! I feel cheated and annoyed! (I am also aware of the heavy use of exclamation marks!!)
I was out by 8:55 and headed for Heritage Coffee for the morning jump start and to make a list of postcard recipients. I promised everyone on my contacts list a postcard and decided I would do this from Alaska. It might not be from Juneau though.

Juneau is a quaint little city with some lovely buildings and some ugly ones. It also consists of the greatest concentration of jewellery shops I have ever seen. The taxi driver told me this on the way into town and I have witnessed it for myself. They are all shut now as it is closed season and there aren’t any idiot tourists flocking off the cruise ships to buy tons of the stuff. It is a bit weird because one end of the town is just shut down and all the windows empty. Some of the gift shops are still open but quite a few of them are also shut.

Anyway, getting back to the point. Having made my list and knowing how many postcards I require I went in search of them. I was sorely disappointed as they were 90% crap – unless one is amused by lame jokes about bear doo doo or some other equally pathetic cartoon rendition of some other item of wildlife. I was after some decent pictures of stunning scenery to send to people and failed dismally. I gave that up as a bad job and went in search of breakfast. This I found in a little cafe down near the water front. Having consumed that; I had a stroll to the bus stop in Main Street. After standing about for two minutes the bus was ready to depart so I got on and paid my $1.50 fare. This is a standard fare and good for the length of the bus’s route.

The journey to Nugget Mall (locally pronounced “mawl”) took about 30 minutes and took a lovely little detour to Lemon Creek where it turned around and came back again. Lemon Creek consists of a trailer park and what I took to be a correctional facility – I took it as such because there was a very high fence topped with copious quantities of razor wire and an observation tower poking over the top. Nugget Mall was obviously named after some allusion to the gold rush which swept the Klondike and Yukon and not for being a lump of gold. A pile of crap would be a better description but I suppose Crap Mall would not have the same appeal.

Popular Hollywood and sanitised TV deception would have us believe all American shopping malls are big, spacious, neat, clean, warehouses of copious quantities of shops selling everything we could possible want or dream of – well at least what moron-mags tell us we need and must have to be considered a proper human being. This is not true. The Nugget Mall is the turd hidden in the nugget - the nugget being the surrounding scenery. Beside and behind the Mall is an array of small penis vendors, i.e. Dodge, Ford, Chrysler & Lincoln big ugly overblown tin box sellers. The whole complex was dirty, rubbish strewn and generally depressing especially when it is surrounded by snow capped and tree covered mountains. It made me feel like looking for a Samaritans office – but I couldn’t find one. The only bright spot was the “Pet Show”. (It made me chuckle as the signs on all the doors read: No Skateboards, No Roller Skates, No Smoking and No Pets!)

I asked a couple heading in the door with a beautiful looking Great Dane bitch – her body came up to my waist – where I might find Marlintines – the “sports” bar. They gave me very good directions which took me straight to the place. Yippee I thought, found it in plenty of time. Imagine my chagrin when I found the door locked and the sign which said they didn’t open until 16:00 (well it said 4:00 because I think most people around here would have trouble with the 24 hour clock).

Bastards! It will all be over by then! I realised I should have asked if they were showing it live – although as the rest of the world doesn’t exist there are no such things as time differences! I tried telephoning the place only to receive a recorded message about some other blood sport show they were screening; boxing or wrestling or game shooting or live televised murder – I can’t remember which. I found a Yellow Pages and depleted my pile of quarters ringing some other bars in Juneau in the vain hope of seeing some real sport as opposed to the commercially dictated nancy-boy excuses for competition they show here.

[An observation: I have seen little TV on this trip – even when provided with a part-wall sized TV in some of the hotels I stayed in – the inclination to even switch one on does not occur to me. A sports channel was playing in the pub where I had my meal last night and my only conclusion from that is: all the viewers suffer from Attention Deficit Disorder. Couple that with the wonderful success one can achieve as a TV editor and producer if one suffers from epilepsy – then you have American sports TV in a nutshell (case more like – thank you again Basil Fawlty). Interrupt this with nauseating adverts about how Ford can reduce your penis size if you buy one of their eight litre four wheel drive all terrain masturbation motors, that just about rounds it up in my opinion.]

The upshot was I wasted four hours of my life wandering around a couple of depressing malls waiting for this Marlintines place to open.

Eventually it did and I headed into the dingy dive – it was – but I didn’t care if they were going to provide what I wanted, some proper sport which didn’t stop – or rather got stopped – for a commercial break every ten minutes. (In case one didn’t know: Yes they do stop what are supposed to be competitive games of sport (games for children) for commercial breaks! That is how four twelve minute quarters of “football” (shite) actually last three hours if one is stupid enough to attend and pay to see it. Why? The only thing to do to keep oneself occupied is eat. Not surprising they are a bunch of lard-arses.

[Diversion: Whilst I was wasting my life I decided to eat something – mainly because I was hungry – and whilst doing so I became fascinated by the waitress who served me. She was a fat ugly biffa whose gut was so huge that her belly button (gaping depression) looked like a mouth chewing when she waddled about – I do not exaggerate. Fortunately the uniform (tent) she was wearing was opaque – although the depression was clearly visible – otherwise I would have embarrassed myself completely. Yes, I consider vomiting in public an embarrassment.]

I know, I am ranting again, I will be again soon.

I was greeted by some redneck behind the bar (I assume one can still get a red neck from frostbite) who asked me what he could get me. “The Rugby World Cup Final” I replied, to which he asked “Is that football or baseball?” The word “fuckwit” jumped into my brain in big angry red letters, pulsing menacingly. I controlled the motor response to blurt this at him and explained in my “best behaved” voice that I was told last night they would be showing the RWC Final and, as it had already happened, when would they be re-running it? This is a proper WORLD Cup, that is: it is contested by countries from all over the world – different ones – not some stupid shitty “World Series” which is only contested by Yanks playing an idiot version of rounders! He had a problem understanding the word “rugby” and I elucidated a little not wishing to confuse the retard. The upshot was they had no “rugby” coverage there mainly because they didn’t know what it was let alone how or when it was televised. I could sense this was a disaster and came to the conclusion that these people, if confronted with anything approaching culture, would rapidly throw a bear skin over it and shoot the shit out of it with armour piercing bullets. I should have realised this when Ryan told me that during his interview he was asked if he hunted or fished. The reduction of wildlife is not a sport or a pastime, “it’s a goddam god given right!” At times it is a little like being in Norfolk with mountains.

By this time I was feeling depressed, dejected, cheated, frustrated and near to tears – my hopes and expectations dashed and shattered like a porcupine’s skull under the wheels of a fuck-off 16. I turned to go not wishing to display the obvious disappointment I was feeling. “Don’t you want a beer before you go?” asked Mr. Candidate-for-Homicide-in-the-First-Degree. “I most certainly do not!” I replied in my best On Her Majesty’s Command real English loaded with enough scorn to dissolve a Fort Knox door (thank you Mother) and walked out.

Feeling as gutted as the Timber Wolf and Brown Bear exhibits they had in glass cases in the Nugget Mall I headed back to the bus stop. Might as well piss off back to Juneau and pour out my venom via the keyboard. Which reminds me; I must stop hitting these keys so hard. If I broke my laptop that would cap it all off.

I got the bus and two stops in an Inuit guy got on and sat two seats from me. I will be kind and pretend he was being sent home following an industrial accident. He works at the local distillery and whilst undertaking some vital and dangerous maintenance operation fell horribly and awkwardly into one of the vats. Obviously traumatised they found some old grubby clothes to put him in and sent him home with full pay. The guys took up a collection to get his bus fare home.

O why did I ever leave Canada – where they have heard of rugby – and maybe England isn’t such the rip-off place I remember it to be. I had a little longing for civilisation.

[Another observation: How good are the levels of literacy in the US? The reason I ask is that Americans seem to have some need to read any signs, labels or titles out loud. Why is this? I know they are all fond of their own voices and have two volume settings: “Off” – occasionally, and, “Loud” – nearly all the time. Is this a throwback to some school teaching method, or does the mouth just automatically engage? (I favour the latter.) It is most odd as I have witnessed them doing it on their own and to each other in couples and groups. Perhaps I have just witnessed a high degree of partially sighted people being taken on trips by one sighted person. I don’t know. I wonder if there is any empirical study on this handicap.]

I got off the bus in Main Street and consoled myself with a Heritage Coffee whilst walking back to the hostel. As soon as I got back I started writing this up and now I will console myself with the wonderful booby prize of: a stick with a bit of shit on both ends! I will consult the Internet to find out the result of RWC 2007 knowing there is no way I can get to see the match without knowing the outcome. Even if I wait the 24 hours required for contractual reasons and download it from the RWC site, the first thing I will see when I hit the site is “England retain title” or “Springboks regain title” and the surprise/joy/elation/disappointment/dejection will be instantly delivered and destroyed. I just hope Charlie got to watch it all in Jasper – he would have had more chance as they know how to sit the right way on a lavatory and that it is wrong to marry and breed with your daughter. Hope you enjoyed it Charlie. I tried & failed miserably in Buttfuck Alaska.
More later...perhaps.

Well, I have booked my way out of here. On Monday I fly to Anchorage. At least they have roads and railways out of there and I should be able to get up to Fairbanks and see the Northern Lights. I have also booked a few nights in a hostel so I will have a place to stay. I couldn’t get connected to the Internet via the wireless network in the hostel because they have had their carpets cleaned and have fans going all over the lounge. The wireless network kept losing its network ID and my laptop couldn’t connect to it due to poor signal – so I was saved the temptation of finding out (one shouldn’t need to ask) as I had to use the PC in the lounge to book everything. I was going to travel by ferry again but the next ferry to anywhere wasn’t until the 4th of November – too long – and trying to fly anywhere nearer, like Cordova or Valdez (which has roads out of it) took me via Anchorage anyway – so that is where I’m going.

I did quickly check my emails to get the confirmations of my flight and hostel booking – all ok – and my Dad had sent me an email with an attachment on it. The picture was the Nike poster showing the England rugby squad standing on the cliffs of Dover with the strap line of “Not without a fight!” and it brought all my disappointment back to me. No problem Dad, it isn’t your fault I know the intention was good... more than could be said for the lying bitch in Marlintines. I still resisted the temptation to look, so the surprise, whatever the outcome was, is still there. I just don’t know what to do with it. I will ponder.

I am going to go to bed now and tomorrow I will see what bits of Juneau are still open for me to look at and visit, at least they can’t shut the scenery!

Prince Rupert – Juneau

2007-10-25T07:54:00.000+01:00

As I have said before: travelling is a transitory thing and so things, and people, move on. It was still with a tinge of sadness that I said farewell to Roland, Travis, Jessica and Will. The hostel had a good vibe to it and these people had only enhanced it – plus Charlie, who had left a message on the notice board reading: “Thank you all for a memorable stay. May the force be with you... always!”

I got up within two howls of the alarm and silenced it before it disturbed anyone else too much. When I returned from the shower all the other beds were empty, so I got my bags down the stairs – in two runs – and then found Roland & Ryan getting stuck in to their own breakfasts. I joined them by depleting more of my stock of Frosties (Kellogs ones – not Scumbag Nestle) but still left enough for Jessie – and some milk to go with them. I brewed up the last of the coffee, and recycled the tin, which provided just enough for Ryan, Jessie & I. Travis, Roland and Jessie were due to set about demolishing the walkway down one side of the hostel. Travis & Jessie had previously dug out some very big holes for posts to support a new decking walkway which would be much wider. This was in arrangement with Christy for rent reduction and Travis, a carpenter by trade, had completed some drawings for the new deck walkway. I thought it would look most impressive when finished. I might even have to go back and see the completed article one day.

Whilst they were attacking this; Ryan very kindly repacked half his car in order to accommodate my bag. He had cleared the front seat the previous evening having offered me a lift – nice bloke. I said if it was too much hassle I would be happy to take a taxi as I would have had to do this if he hadn’t arrived. “It will fit.” He asserted – and it did. Having said our final goodbyes with handshakes, hugs and back slaps, we set off for the ferry terminal.

We arrived in plenty of time as the ferry was delayed in its arrival and wasn’t due to dock until 11:00.

I purchased my ticket and completed all the paperwork commensurate with entering the United States of Paranoia.

Having waited an hour the ferry arrived and started disgorging vehicles & people. Ryan had already driven through the customs check area and I went and waited dutifully with the rest of the foot passengers to be called through.

The immigration process was most strange as the Customs guy seemed more interested in what I did for a job and what it entailed than anything else – rather odd as I had ticked the “No” box for the question of whether I had ever been involved in espionage before. Perhaps I just had that James Bond English reserve look about me. (Feel free to wet yourself laughing at that – I nearly did.) I didn’t make the mistake of saying I was redundant again – I did when I entered Canada and that got me a whole bunch of grief explaining what that was – but just played on “my last employment”. This was quite embarrassing as they wanted to know the name and telephone number of my company and wanted to know if I had any company ID on me. What the fuck for if I was there for pleasure? I refrained from treating him to one of Mother’s own disdainful looks and just played along. If there was some weird psychology or reverse-psychology behind this line of questioning it was totally lost on me. Anyway the upshot was I got my passport stamped and I was admitted to the USA – God Help America!

I boarded the ferry and found my way to a lounge where I could dump my bags and go and explore. I met Ryan on the aft deck and we stood and watched the ferry leave the dock. We were now on the Alaska Marine Highway.

We wandered around the ship to get familiar with its layout and then had something to eat in the canteen. Burger & fries (remember chips are crisps here) was the least offensive of the choices so you see how good it was. Whilst standing up on the Solarium Deck (a covered area which is actually heated – not very energy efficient!) I saw some water spouts off to starboard. After seeing these a few more times I decided I was no hallucinating and pointed them out to Ryan. He saw them and agreed they were probably whale spouts. There were about six or seven of them and they were moving, but nothing broke the surface more than a vague hump, so they could have been whales or dolphin. Not long after this we ran into some turbulence and the good ol’ ship was rockin’ & rollin’ in a rather hefty swell. Poor old Ryan went very pale and didn’t look very well. I convinced him if he could go to sleep he would feel better, either that or stay out on deck in the fresh air. He opted for sleep and achieved it and when he woke up he had his colour back and felt a lot better.

Our first stop was in Ketchikan and we had about 90 minutes so we decided to get off and have something to eat. As a security measure Ryan offered his trusty Honda to lock my bags in whilst we disembarked, an offer I took him up on straightaway with thanks. We selected a restaurant/diner which was part of “The Landing” hotel – perhaps not that imaginative in names but very apt – as it was literally just across the road from the terminal. As Ryan had left his watch back in Michigan it was down to me for timekeeping. I told Ryan; “no problem, I will tell you the time every five minutes.” He said: “that’s good because I will probably ask you every three minutes.” We had a chuckle at that as we had both been rather anal about our tickets, which pocket they were in and not losing them!
We settled in and had a beer and a damn good meal which Ryan paid for courtesy of the Wrangell newspaper he will be working for. I did offer him money as I have some of the monopoly stuff which passes for US currency. Actually that is an insult to monopoly money because at least the notes are different colours. Dollars are all the same size, shape and colour and really helpfully for partially sighted people I’m sure. (As I trust there will be a mainly British audience for this I am sure I don’t have to explain the irony in that. If any Americans are reading this; that was called “irony” and it might be in one of your dictionaries.) The upshot of this was Ryan refused any money as he has an expense allowance and intends to use it. I thanked him again.
Having returned to the ferry before it sailed - we could see it from the table we were sitting at and both expressed the disaster it would be if it sailed off without us taking all our worldly belongings with it – we settled down for a lovely sleep feeling full and contented.

I woke up in the early hours and decided to visit the observation lounge. Wow, I have never seen The Plough, or Big Dipper, so low in the sky and literally dead ahead – no wonder they adopted it as the Alaska flag. Likewise Orion was so low on the mountains it looked like he was having a lie down. It was very interesting to see some familiar constellations seemingly much closer (I know they aren’t) and definitely lower in the night sky. Having seen enough to be very tired again I went back to my seat, comfortably reclined, and went back to sleep.

I woke up about 10:30 and decided to listen to some sounds whilst Ryan slept peacefully on. The wonderful Sennheisers came into their own again, drowning out all the air conditioning and engine rumbling noise leaving unpolluted sound to be enjoyed.

Ryan woke up about 11:00 and we went up on deck for a smoke and watched a rash of lights appear in the distance. “That could be your new home.” I said as it coalesced into a small town’s worth of lights. There were mist patches clinging to the sea in clumps which looked quite eerie. I asked Ryan if he had read “The Fog” and he hadn’t so I said no more. It was also weird the way the mist clung around the rock with the lighthouse on top so the light shone out through the mist making it all look quite surreal.

The clump of lights was Wrangell and we docked at midnight. After we had watched the crew tie the boat up; a very slick and well executed process, it was time to say goodbye to Ryan. I wished him well for his writing, publishing and journalism and hoped he liked his new home. He wished me well for my travels and living. Being the sentimental sod I am I watched his Honda clear the vehicle ramp and gave it a wave just in case he was looking. I then had 45 minutes to wait before the ferry set off again for our next destination – Petersburg. We should get there approximately 4:30am.

In the meantime I have written this up so far and will probably be asleep when we get there.

I did wake up when we got to Petersburg and got up to have a wander round the deck and survey the town in darkness – well the ferry terminal was lit up. I couldn’t honestly say I saw anything of Petersburg, so I went back to sleep.
I awoke as day was dawning and went to watch it get brighter. Like Cowardly Sir Robin I turned my tail and fled to the observation lounge as the wind on deck had nasty vicious long teeth that bit anything exposed – one of the first things I will do in Juneau is get some gloves!

I saw the pod of Humpbacks before the announcement was made over the PA. I did venture out on deck for this and, hopefully, got some pictures that might be worth saving. Remember these are real wild whales not the poor trained things doing tricks for sad humans who pay for such dubious pleasures, so they weren’t “putting on a show” for my camera, or my benefit. There were a good eight to a dozen in the pod and they were all breaching and blowing with abandon. (I don’t know if whales are gay, so I hesitate to use the word.) My hands took a good ten minutes to warm up again after returning to the observation lounge, and then I went back to my corner in the recliner lounge and fell asleep again.

I woke at 11:45 and decided I would not “drop off” again as we were scheduled to dock in Juneau at 13:15. I rechecked my bags making sure everything was packed and I hadn’t forgotten anything. I then went back to the observation lounge and noticed buildings on the shore line. This indeed was Juneau – well the ferry terminal anyway! We docked at 13:00 and I disembarked – no I bloody well didn’t “deship” – and headed for the terminal. I am assuming that all the terminals on the AMH (Alaska Marine Highway) are all the same, i.e. the block built equivalent of a shack with bugger all in them but a ticket desk, some seats and some telephones. As Juneau is Alaska’s capital this was obviously a deluxe one as it had a tourist information desk – unmanned and consisting of some bus schedules. I have to say this is the worst serviced terminal I have encountered so far. There is no shuttle bus service to downtown, the nearest bus stop is 1.75 miles away (“turn right out of the parking lot and up the hill”) and the “share a taxi” stand, which I stood at for twenty minutes, had no one to share it with. As a result a taxi driver who had dropped off his fare saw me waiting and asked if I needed a ride. As I was cold and 15 miles away from downtown Juneau I bit the bullet and said “yes”. The taxi driver was a nice friendly guy and pointed out all the beauty spots and points of interest on the way into town – which took twenty minutes. He also took me past a camping and hiking shop pointing it out specifically as I had asked him where I might get some gloves. He took me to the hostel (which is shut between 9am and 5pm) and hailed a woman who was going in the door with a small child to see if there was anywhere I could stash my bags as I certainly didn’t want to carry them about with me – not when you see the steepness of the hills (mountainsides) that residential Juneau is built on. The commercial places are all on the flat but down by the water.
The cabbie was obviously a good bloke because he only asked me for $30 when the meter showed $33.80. Having stashed my big bag in the storage room round the back of the hostel I set off back into town. I located the camping shop and duly bought myself a pair of gloves and a windproof hat. The good old Southend United woolly hat is great under my hood but it is not windproof and when that icy wind got going it was like having a scalp massage with a sack of sewing needles.

I covered most of downtown Juneau and the old quarter during the afternoon. The residential parts, and there are some stunning houses with what must be amazing views ranged up the mountainside – see the picture taken from outside the hostel.

The other part of Juneau sprawls around the mountain, as in the other side of it, and is about 5Km away from the downtown area.
As I was beginning to wend my way back to the hostel in time for it’s opening I sought out a coffee place, and found one – Heritage Coffee. This has to come a close second to Serious Coffee, it was beautiful – I had two.

I got to the hostel with fifteen minutes to wait, so I did. As I was waiting a lovely looking young lady appeared and tried to get in. I told her it didn’t open until 17:00 and she asked what it was like. All I coul tell her was what I had gleaned from the Internet and the feedback to their site – which was very complimentary. Her name was Jamie and she originates from Ohio but had been living in Seattle for the last four years. We chatted about a few things and had a laugh and then the hostel opened up so we went in. Jamie was staying with a mate of hers and her lover and was suffering from “three’s a crowd” syndrome so she was just checking out places to run away to, so she might be back. I booked in and first off set about getting a shave and a shower to remove two days worth of grime form sitting on a ferry. I felt much better afterwards.

The next thing I had to do was sort out the important thing – the Rugby World Cup Final.

I had a word with the guy on reception, Greg, who was most helpful, and he gave me the number of a sports bar which may be screening it. I rang them from the telephone in the lounge – free local calls – and got confirmation that they are! “Thank you, I will see you tomorrow.”

The only thing left after this was food. I found a lovely pub downtown and had their surf & turf, which consisted of elk and “shrimps”. That is what the waitress told me. The elk was lovely, a very strong dark meat along the lines of venison, but the “shrimps” were baby lobsters! I could not get a whole one in my mouth, they were two bites big!
After finishing this I had a nice calorie burning climb back to the hostel, which certainly kept me warm as there was no cloud, the moon looked like it had been placed in the sky by a celestial set designer and the air had that sharp cold smell (and feel) like I have not experienced in a UK “winter” for a long long time. It gets mighty cold in them there mountains.

My laundry was dry and waiting for me in the tumble dryer so I unloaded it and sorted it out it in neat piles on one of the unused beds as I have a dorm room to myself. There is one other Japanese guy staying here and he has one too.

I am getting this updated and will post it as they have wireless Internet access – yippee.

I am then going to get an early night so I can have a solid, comfortable, horizontal sleep. I also want to be refreshed and awake for England’s triumphant retention of the William Webb Ellis Trophy!
Happy dreams.

Prince Rupert – Day 5

2007-10-25T07:48:00.000+01:00

Today started late – well certainly later than I intended – as I didn’t wake up until 10:00. I will set my alarm clock for tomorrow as this would be a small disaster.

I had breakfast and then caught up on the blog entries. As I had bought a new phone card I thought I would use it, and as it wasn’t too late in the day in the UK I rang my Mother. Caught up on all the news from home and then thought I would give it a while and ‘phone my brother.

I sorted my bags out and double checked that I hadn’t left anything out. Updated a bit more of the blog and then rang Pete. Had a chat with Sol, Tracey and then Pete. Many apologies mate, my ‘phone card ran out as you were telling me about the boiler – I will ring again when I get to Alaska and get another ‘phone card. (At least I got the full use of the ‘phone card though!)

Had a wander down to Safeways and stocked up on some chocolate, peanuts & crisps for the ferry journey – high protein & energy stuff as I guessed the cafeteria would be much the same as the BC Ferry I arrived on.

After getting back I made some coffee and the latest visitor arrived at the hostel – a guy from Michigan named Ryan. I stashed all my “ferry goodies” in my small rucksack and got everything ready for the next day, including the alarm clock set for 7:30. My intention was to get all showered and clean before turning in for the night so I could get away with breakfast & tooth cleaning in the morning and be ready to go. Plans can fall flat as one will see.

I went down to the kitchen to cook up my stir fry. Jessica was sitting about in the lounge and speculating on what would happen to my Frosties when I left. I happily said she could scavenge any of my foodstuffs, which she seemed quite pleased about. Roland and a German guy (apologies, I didn’t get his name) were going off to play volleyball so I kept out of the way until they had finished in the kitchen – then I had the place to myself. (Anyone who knows me & kitchens will be aware that I like total run and control of it! It has been a little difficult getting used to a shared kitchen and not practicing one’s filleting techniques on “invaders”!) While I was getting my stir fry prepared Ryan came to stand in the doorway and chat. (Good man, he kept out of the way.) Ryan is a writer from Michigan who is travelling to Wrangell to be a journalist with the local paper. He is going for two years and driving up in his car so during the course of our conversation he asked if I wanted a ride to the Ferry Terminal. “Thanks” I said – I was fully prepared to book a taxi but a bit of company wouldn’t hurt. Ryan is one of those walking contradictions – a sensible American. He wanted to get away from Michigan and try “somewhere real” along with finish his latest book. This was his fourth and he hasn’t had anything published yet, but as he said himself: “I don’t think they are good enough yet.” I just congratulated him on doing something he wanted to do and going for it. There are many people who have the dream but don’t even try to live it – and yes I am one to talk because I am and loving every minute of it. The places I have seen and the people I have met so far have made it worth it.

Ryan asked if I drank wine, “why yes” I replied whilst cooking up my dinner. He disappeared for five minutes and came back with a bottle of local Michigan red wine – and very nice it was too. By this time I was eating my dinner and sipping some lovely wine when Jessica joined us. Another glass was poured. Christy appeared – she had passed her exam “congratulations” – and had a very small glass of wine as she was off to play hockey – as in ice hockey. As the bottle was empty by then Ryan asked if we wanted any more. The general consensus was “yes” so off he went to his car and came back with another bottle of very fine Michigan red. This was a different wine but very drinkable. Jessica, being two parts minx, ensured glasses were topped up. (She was the young lady who fully endorsed my “Breeding Licence Plan” – good girl. She originates from Whitehorse in the Yukon but has done a lot of travelling too. The poor thing ended up staying in Forest Gate when she went to London because the hostels in Central London wanted £100 per night! I do agree with everyone who says London is expensive and let them know it is not called “rip off Britain” for nothing!)
Travis joined us a bit later and Roland and the German returned from sports activities. It turned out they had played badminton instead of volleyball but had enjoyed themselves nonetheless.
We had all decided to reconvene on the front porch for a communal smoke (I told you it was sociable) when Will and his girlfriend arrived. I feel awful because I cannot remember her name but I saw her as I was walking down the road earlier and thought “I recognise that lady – but I can’t remember where from.” Anyway Will joined us and we all huddled out of the rain chatting & smoking. My plans of getting all cleaned up ready to go straight off in the morning turned to vapour and blew away. We all shuffled back in shaking off wet jackets and someone made coffee. As things progressed people drifted off to bed leaving Will & I sitting in the lounge area chatting about our travels, plans and hopes. Will is from Manchester and a plumber by trade. He had been travelling in Australia and then up through America before travelling back across Canada to spend some time checking out the east coast before returning to the UK. His intention is to work enough to save some money and then take off for the Far East. He is a firm believer in travel broadening the mind and thought what I was doing was brilliant. As this is another tick in the “Good Move” column I get the impression I am not doing something terribly wrong.
We chatted about all sorts of things and found we had similar outlooks and philosophies on the world. Having put the world to rights we decided to turn in for the night as it was now 2:00.

I very quietly packed up my laptop, which I had left out and switched on with the intention of updating and posting this. As neither Roland nor Ryan woke up and gave me abuse, I think I got away with it.

Ensuring that the alarm was set I crawled into bed for a few hours sleep.