Around the World in 80 Daves

Party Time!!

2009-11-03T05:47:00.000-08:00

I love it when a plan comes together! Here I was in Portland, I'd caught my timing perfectly as I descended upon my friend Tiff's house for a few nights to coincide with our friends graduation party. It seems bizarre to call people I have met just once or twice or in some cases never before, friends, but it all clicks so effortlessly that you'd think we'd all known each other for years. As it is, the wonderful world of Bootsnall has a lot to answer for.

Its here in Portland that the website calls home - and what a home Portland is! A pleasant City of meandering streets and rivers, a relaxed (almost horizontal) vibe, cool bars and eateries and one of the best book shops in the world (thankyou Powells for overloading me!) and all set to the backdrop of Mt Hood. It may not have the allure of a New York or a Boston but Portland offers something special of its own that kept me here far longer than originally itended!

It was refreshing to almost have a break here for a while. Staying at Tiffs I had soeme genuine time away from hostel dorms and an almost normal life for a while. I caught up on jobs, got my hair cut and took a break from being on the road. I umwound and relaxed and discovered Portland in a very different way than I would have had I bunked up in a dorm again.

I was already falling in love with this part of the world before being taken out to the Oregon coast. Suffice to say that any doubts I ever had about this area were put to rest on a journey through small towns, winding roads, great forrests and finally at the ocean. WOW!

We found ourselves in a tiny spot called Pacific City, a place so off the beaten track that you'd need a damn good map of the area just to find it! I'm glad we did though!! A breathtaking vista broke through as we made our way towards the sand. Waves cashed against an endless coastline, sand dunes rose on one side of us and a rock out to see gave it all some perspective. This was not your turquoise seas of the Caribbean or Thailand, this was rugged coastline with an overwhelming beauty. Oh and if that wasn't enough, a microbrewery sits proudly at the back of the sand, ready to serve you local delights as you enjoy the stunning surrounds. You would think a place so utterly charming as this would attract hoards of visitors, the fact is beyond the locals no one would even know this place exists. I'll be back again one day of that I'm sure, whether I can find the place again is another matter altogether!

Pictures tell the best story of the Party. Good times were had, too much beer was drunk (I cant belive I ended up on PBR!!) and friendships cemented. Thankyou everyone for truly memorable time.

And thanks to Tiff for putting up with me for well over a week!!

I'll be back PDX.

Time to be The Tourist

2007-12-19T05:39:00.000-08:00

Vancouver may have been a break from the norm but I was determined not to leave here without seeing some of the sights, and so it was that Anne and I set about a 10KM walk to take in as much as possible!

I'd so nearly stumbled upon an area of Vancouver I was best away from had it not been for Anne, even in a somewhat intoxicated state, steering me away from the danger zone I was unwittingly about to enter. Our late night stroll so nearly going horrible wrong. Hopefully now it was time to see a better side of Vancouver!

Its a strange feeling being guided around, I wasn't used to it. I always had in my head places I wanted to see or things I wanted to do. Maps would be out and I'd be out with a purpose. Here it was different. I had no idea what I wanted to see, or where I was even going, I was simply following someone else. The brain work left at home for once. I was a nice feeling but somewhat unnerving.

I was visiting sights I had seen pictures of before, my parents having visited the area only a year previous. English Bay Beach looked nothing like I had imagined, maybe it was the bad weather but as beaches go a disappointment, yet it had its own sense of the tranquil.

Stanley Park our backdrop as we passed the famed Inukchuk, an Inuit marker for safety, hope and friendship. Its symbol is currently being used in the logo for the Winter Olympic Games to be held in Vancouver in 2010.

We passed important bridges and navigated our way through the park winding up with an impressive view of the Vancouver skyline, the reward for completing the lengthy walk. I'd also managed to spot Darth Bear a little earlier in town too, a warm feeling of completion waved over me.

It certainly wan all Vancouver had to offer, it was however, a great overview and a chance to finally take a few snaps of the place. I left Vancouver with a smile on my face, knowing I had far from seen it all, hoping one day I might return.

Have a break - Have a Kittie Cat (or 3)

2007-12-18T03:06:00.000-08:00

A break from the norm is always good especially when it comes in the hospitality of a friend. In Vancouver I had traded the hostel bunk bed for a couch,a glorious, homely couch my new home for the next 4 nights.

I'd been greeted by open arms and a big hug as a departed the greyhound
service, Anne was evidently still waiting for me despite the delays in
getting there and a breakdown in communication between the two of us.
We scooted off to catch just one more bus before walking up to the
house.

Its certainly a strange feeling to be in a house again. The life of the dorm room becomes ingrained in you, a part of you and now I was, albeit briefly, being returned to some semblance of normality. I met the housemates and, it would seem, more importantly, I met the cats.

Three of them. The names escape me but their presence would not. Awakening
from my first nights sleep, I found not one but all 3 cats had found
their resting place for the night on top of me. Claws tugging at the
blanket and me, cat hair all over me, it was, to say the least, novel!
Each morning I would wake to find at least 2 of them sleeping atop me. Including the strangest cat of all time.

Most cats, in fact I'd go as far as to say all cats I have ever known, Care
for themselves. They preen, they clean and they make sure they look
good. That it had always seemed to me, was the way of the cat. Here in
Vancouver though I had found the exception. A cat with dreds. He didn't clean, he didn't preen, he just looked, and trying to put this nicely, unkempt. You just prayed that he wasn't the one lying an inch from your face in the morning!

I found my whole pattern of daily life change while I
was here. The usual routine seemed to just go without any second
though. I had suddenly shed a great deal of my travel roots, I become
the guest, the friend and the hosted. I wasn't thinking constantly about
where I was going to go, what I was going to see, how I was going to
get there. In fact my brain seemed to just switch off, for the first time in so long someone else was doing the thinking for me!

The results, of course, were completely different to the way I would have done things had I been here on my own. In fact, it wasn't until my final day that my camera actually came out. It really shouldn't have been though as that first night we headed down to the beach and witnessed one of the most glorious sunsets I've ever seen. I reached for my camera, normally ever present to find an empty pocket. I know I would have had that one me if I hadn't
felt so safe leaving it at the house. I would have to make do with the
memory and memory alone of such a beautiful sky. I wont forget it, I
just wish I could share it.

Continuing in the vain my stay here had become accustomed to, we had some chilled days, not really going to see anything specific, just wondering the streets, often her disappearing off to do a job or have an interview whilst I wondered around seeing what that particular area had to offer. Home cooking was interspersed with a variety of meals out including my first experience with a Mongolian Barbecue - A tasty one it was too! An evening out was also taken to catch the latest Pirates of The Caribbean movie, another welcome interlude to the sightseeing extravaganza that had been the last couple of months.

We cooked, we drank (far too much on at least one occasion) and we laughed. The tourist traps were not high on the agenda but relaxing and enjoying my time in Vancouver certainly were. It became something totally different and unexpected. A breather from the travel roller coaster couldn't have been better timed if I'd tried!

Heart

2007-11-13T05:41:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, just very occasionally, something happens that makes you think that everything really is right with the world, that despite all the bad stuff you see and read in the news, humanity can shine through.

One such occasion dawned as I made my way across my the US border into Canada. I was on my way to Vancouver to catch up with a friend for a few days before heading back into the States to Portland.

I was on a Greyhound bus again, the cheap option when it comes to travel in the States and I'm often reminded of that fact by the shabby looking clientele that seem to frequent these buses on a regular basis. Indeed overnight trips on Greyhound have a notorious reputation and one that has me avoiding any long trips on them. Short trips though have been pleasant enough to warrant little complaint.

For the first time on Greyhound bus I would cross the border into Canada and hadn't really known what to expect. We were told that the bus would pull in at the US side of the border, our luggage would be taken through, we'd pass through customs and immigration before retrieving luggage and meeting the bus on the Canadian side of the Pacific Highway border.

Formalities dispensed with we filed back on the bus. As we were preparing to leave it became apparent that we were missing someone. Our driver returned from her investigation to inform us that a young German girl had been denied entry into Canada on account of insufficient funds.

In the moments that followed I witnessed something quite special. Hands went to pockets, into wallets and up and down the bus money was moving. Here we were on a bus conceived as the cheapest way of getting around and between us we had put together well in excess of $200. The money was handed over to the bus driver who took it down to immigration in the hopes that it might persuade them to let her in.

We waited, and waited. Then, from the doors of the immigration office appeared two woman. The bus driver and a young German girl who re-entered the bus in tears. Tears that called on every emotion. The distress of not getting through and where that would have left her and the unbelieving joy that a bunch of complete strangers would put their heads and money together to help her out.

In those moments I saw something that restored my faith in humanity. That people, even a bunch of total strangers have such compassion for another human, someone they had never met before today and someone they would likely never see again. It was a gesture that came straight from the heart and from the soul and one that left me feeling proud of my fellow man. Stories like this never make the news, instead you'll hear about all the bad stuff that's going on, how protective we must be of ourselves and our children. I just hope that the next time you watch the news and worry about all the bad things going on in the World today that you remember this story. Remember the ones that don't get reported, the ones that make us believe again that there is so much good in this world.

A Head Butt no Brain!

2007-11-13T04:10:00.000-08:00

It comes but once every 4 years, a day that defines a time. A day that 4 weeks ago I dreamt I'd be watching England, a day, in fact that every man dreams he's watching his country play. For two nations that dream is realised today. France and Italy will play each other in the Football World Cup Final. Each team, with a Nations hopes and dreams resting upon their shoulders, life's ambitions a mere 90 minutes away from being realised.

England had long since departed the tournament, crashing out to Portugal in the Quarter Finals, the dream was over for another four years for the English contingent. The Americans had been a huge disappointment as well, failing to get past the group stages and now, here I was, and Englishman, in America about to watch France and Italy battle it out in Germany!

With Seattle my venue and Sandy by my side we set about finding a bar to watch the game. We settled on an Irish Bar around Pike Place Market, having failed to find anywhere else showing it, and joined the throngs within. I was surprised just how many people had turned out here to see the game, a two floor building, the ground floor was packed to the rafters so we settled on a spot in the upstairs bar, still 20 minutes before kick off.

As kick off approached, even the upstairs now was jammed up. Looking around me, hearing conversations it was obvious that people from nations spanning the globe had come together in one place to watch this game. We'd found ourselves chatting to a Frenchman and a Belgian as the game progressed and the beer flowed.

Tensions from those more intimately involved were becoming ever greater as deadlock remained and time ticked on. In extra time they boiled over on the pitch as Zinedine Zidane threw his head in the direction of Italian, Marco Materazzi. Shock at what we'd just witnessed reverberated around the bar, you could almost here the gasps from bars and homes across the world. Zidane, hero to so many, legend not only in his own country but throughout the lands had, in a moment of madness, ended his career. His final moments on the football pitch were to see red and leave the field, taking with him French pride and dreams.

The Italians went on to win the trophy on penalties, but it will be the Zidane head butt that remains in most minds when they talk about the 2006 World Cup Final. For me, watching this game for the first time abroad was an experience in itself. In a country where football means a totally different sport, I'd been able to share the experience with people from all nations, and clearly see in the eyes of the French and Italians just how much this game meant to them.

Sandy and I headed to a bar after the game to have a drink with a couple of the guys we'd met in the bar. A bottle of wine with a Frenchman after such an experience was quintessential in many ways but seemed so right in many many more.

Friends - Old and New

2007-10-24T08:06:00.000-07:00

It happened as I stood outside my hostel in Seattle. A voice, carrying, I could hear what was being said yet it didn't register for several seconds. My name. I was hearing my name! But from where? There was no one around, not close anyway, it still continued. I had my doubts that it was actually me they were after. I mean, who the hell would know me here? Then from behind me, a young lady appears, blond hair cascading down, a knowing look on her face.

"I thought it was you! How are you??"

I looked at her. Nothing. Again, this time trying to get my brain to function at full speed. Nothing. She recognised me, that much was certain. As those moments tick by, it becomes increasingly uncomfortable. You know it, she knows it, heck anyone within ogling distance knows it. I just don't recognise her and that fact is biting through her with every passing moment.

She braces the subject. "Dave, its Anna, from the hostel in New York!". As the words spilled from her mouth I was already wondering how the hell I could have forgotten. The memories came flooding back, the nights out, the beers in the hostel, heck, we even went to the Yankees game together!!

Maybe it was seeing her out of context or without the hat that donned her head, hiding her beautiful blond hair from view, maybe I'm just forgetful! Whatever it was I sure as hell recognised her now!

I'd been told this sort of thing could happen while I was away. You meet people at one point in your trip and because you're following a similar route you wind up bumping into people again. Despite being told, its still a strange feeling when it does actually happen. Funnily enough she wasn't so much travelling and visiting here, she was actually working here.

I didnt see her again after that, we exchanged numbers but I was leaving in a day or 2 and we were both pretty busy. It was nice to bump into what was, in travelling terms I guess, an old friend.

I also seized upon an opportunity to meet a couple more Booties. Joe was also in from out of town and staying at the Green Tortoise whilst Travis was the local. The three of us arranged a get together for a few hours over lunch. Once again I wasn't to be disappointed by the awesome people that frequent Bootsnall.

A lovely meal around Pike Place Market and a few beers were capped off, stylishly with a few photos by the Seattle Wall of Gum, and yes, its absolutely as disgusting as you may think, still, it makes for a funky photo!

I'd undoubtedly met a great bunch of people while here in the Emerald City. From Joe and Travis, bumping into Anna, the crew from the HI hostel and, of course, Sandy who I'd arranged to meet again to watch the the biggest game of football in 4 years, the World Cup Final!

Underground, Overground, Above Ground

2007-10-23T06:47:00.000-07:00

It seems that if you're an American City or almost any big City, you need one. They seem to be there mainly for visitors and already I'd enjoyed my fair share of them throughout the US. They often dominate not only the "things to do lists" but the skyline too. Indeed from them, its the skyline you come to see. Metropolises laid out in front of you, in fact, all around you. Welcome to the Space Needle, Seattle's viewing platform deluxe.

I've always liked these buildings that give you such an overview of the City you're in. Maybe its the feeling of knowing how the City is laid out below you, the feeling of actually BEING here, the enjoyment of being in such a City and seeing what makes each one unique from its own viewpoint or maybe its just the awesome picturesque views you get from the top. Whatever it is, I cant help but want to take advantage of them.

Seattle's Space Needle dominates the Cityscape almost like no other. Its prominence in part of the City where high rises are few and far between allows it to own the space in which its surrounded.

I'd thought about doing it for a couple of days but the weather had been typically cloudy and overcast, however things had changed and the sky was now gloriously blue and who could resist on such a beautiful day?!

Atop the Needle, I actually had a slight feeling of disappointment, I wasn't as high up as I though I might be and couldn't help but think I'd been up better buildings before. Still, the views were impressive. The high rises Downtown gave Seattle that "Big City" feel to me for the first time, whilst Puget Sound and other watery goodness was encompassed in a lower rise area. Mount Rainier, the active Volcano was visible in the distance giving the City a whole different feel on the location front.

The whole experience gave me a unique look on Seattle and whilst it costs a fair bit to get up there I'm still glad I did it. Maybe I'd feel differently had the day been bleaker but the glorious sun and skies allowed the City to bask away.

In Seattle though, what goes up also comes down. Indeed I'd been surprised walking around just how hilly this place was. Roads would slope off into the distance or rise and carry on rising, the steepness tugging at your leg muscles wherever you walk.

Perhaps not on most people's must do list is the Underground Tour. I'd been recommended this idea from several people and along with Sandy headed off to try my luck at getting on one. We knew the place was located around Pioneer Square but weren't entirely sure of the exact location. We saw one group appear from out of nowhere and tagged along for a few moments to see what was happening. Fortunately the tour leader was able to point us to the starting point.

The tour takes you on a route under Seattle to where the City used to lie before being destroyed by fire in the late 19th Century. The City was then rebuilt atop its original streets a story or 2 higher. Whilst there may not be a huge variety of stuff to see the guide made the trip more than worthwhile. Full of information and presented in an entertaining way the tour is made more than worthwhile by the people running it. We both come out back to street level full of praise for the Seattle Underground Tour.

Overground, above ground or below ground I was taking a shining to this City, I allowed myself several hours to just wonder the streets and whilst being amazed at the sheer number of coffee shops it has also located the main shopping district, not huge by anyone's standards but it sits just right in this City where nothing comes across as too overblown there's a certain modesty about this City that leaves me with a quiet sense of admiration for it.

A Tale of Two Hostels

2007-10-16T03:04:00.000-07:00

Hostels in the US are funny old things. They're few and far between compare to their counterparts in many other parts of the world. Boston and Chicago for example have 3 a piece compared to a total of around 70 in Barcelona. The US hasn't really taken the hostel to its heart and instead Motels are the budget accommodation of choice it would seem. My single experience of one of these places had come in Memphis and as expected they're rather more ideal for someone with a car than without! The lack of hostels has meant I've often had trouble booking where I want to stay and, on occasion, booking anywhere at all!

With just 2 hostels, Seattle becomes just another City here with a lack of backpacker accommodation and I'd been pre-warned about one of these said places. Though not far from each other the HI and Green Tortoise come at you from very different angles. The Tortoise was the place I'd been made wary of, its location next to the Needle Exchange Centre, home if addicts from all around. Hardly an ideal location! This had more than contributed to my desire to stay at the huge HI place, that whilst only a block or 2 away was in a somewhat less shady locale.

Once again though the lack of options had left me somewhat out in the lurch. the HI, huge place that it is was actually full for the final couple of days I'd planned to stay here and meant I would be swapping hostels midway through my stay. I'd been reluctant to take the Tortoise option up but even they were short of beds and hotel options were out of my reach money wise. It was simply a case of if I want to stay I'm going to have to stay there.

You couldn't witness more contrast between two such nearby places if you tried. HI hostels here in the US have a reputation of being clean, comfortable, organised and regimented. Evidenced none more so than right here in Seattle. Hostel workers walked around dressed as if 1970s Phys Ed teachers in uniformed shirt and shorts, an almost comedic sight. No Alcohol was permitted on the premises but things were unquestionable clean and well thought out.

The HI hostels often fill up with large groups in town for a conference or school kids here en masse. They're family friendly places and more often than not extremely well located. They are, ideal if fun is not on the agenda. put simply, you know what you're going to get and fun filled nights are far from its inhabitants minds. Basically, they're brilliant but ultimately boring!

In contrast, the Green Tortoise could hardly have been more different. The run down looking building housed a run down looking hostel, emphasised more than expected due to their imminent move to a new location. The rooms were fine but had clearly seen better days, the computers used or internet access were falling to pieces, half of them not in working order, faulty keyboards and mice without balls aplenty. Grungy looking seating that Kurt Cobain would have been proud of adorned the common areas. whilst staff seemed blissfully unaware of anything going on around them.

To use an old cliche though, the place had character. Its inhabitants more social, a place unlike the HI where I figured I might actually meet people! in many respects I felt more at home here than in the stuffy HI down the road despite its obvious flaws.

Indeed my expectations were met when, sat outside on the balcony I got chatting to Sandy, a woman from Corpus Christie, Texas. It just seemed the environment I was now in was geared to this happening. Having already enjoyed a few pints of something local earlier in the evening we decided to hell with it and ventured out to find a suitable drinking tavern.

We wound up in Pioneer Square. My first taste of the City's best known nightspot and Saturday was the perfect evening to soak up the atmosphere. Bars and clubs were overflowing, spilling out onto the streets as I saw Seattle rockin' for the first time. Neither of us particularly felt like clubbing so we bounded from bar to bar managing, somehow, to find all the ones that closed early! It was great to sit back and watch a City thriving on its weekend, the atmosphere was infectious and I was happy enough to let it all go on around me as I sat back taking it all in.

The Beer and The Bars

2007-09-28T05:47:00.000-07:00

By now I think its fairly well established that I enjoy my beer. My days of a continuous hangover are hopefully well behind me now but there's nothing better than being able to sit down with a pint, a notebook relax and who know, get chatting to someone. Its even better when there's a new beer or 2 to try!

Seattle is actually well known for its Microbreweries (as are Vancouver and Portland, the next 2 destinations on my hit list) and its almost harder to get away from them than it is to find them. My first evening in The Emerald City had been a beer tasting extravaganza in Collins Pub where a whole host of tasty beverages, unknown and untried by my tastebuds were unexpectedly awaiting my approval. Bizarre names abound, it was the Flying Dog Wheat that hit the nail on the head this time around.

This, I was discovering, was only the tip of the iceberg. I'd wound up meeting a bunch of people from all over the place whilst back at my hostel that first night and together we wound up at the Pike Brewery, a bar come restaurant with its own Brewery attached. An array of beery delights awaited us again and from the menu we selected a couple of their rather odd sounding ales to try out. 2 large pitchers were placed down before us and the beer tasting began!

Places like this seem to add an extra edge when it comes to going out to the pub. At home its always been the same 3 or 4 beers on top, a pint of the usual and all that. The sheer variety adds so much to the experience. I'm learning to know what I like and don't a lot quicker now, learning about the different tastes and styles and enjoying my beer drinking far more.

Indeed the whole bar/pub experience feels so different to that of an English one. My status as a foreigner, always experiencing something different and in being so am an interest to others unlike I would be if I was local could be playing a huge part. That is something I will likely never know.

The bar scene, such as it is, seems to invite a certain randomness of events that would be unthinkable at home, especially is such a closed off environment as London. I'd decided to plonk myself in a bar for an hour or so not far from my hostel. The idea to just have a beer and catch up with some writing. I hadn't been in the bar for very long when a couple started talking to me. I remember very little about them although I still have the messages they wrote for me on a card at home, it was the simple act of talking that remains with me. They seemed totally unafraid to open up a conversation with a complete stranger in an environment that to me has always seemed closed off to that. They left to be replaced by three woman and once again, conversation started.

For the life of me I couldn't tell you any of their names and feel almost embarrassed that I cant but there's something about the way the events went that night that may well have me recounting the story till the day I die. The events themselves are actually quite trivial but in context it had a huge impact on me.

Sat talking to one of the girls they told me they were off to see some improv theatre across the road and asked if I'd like to join them. having only just met them less than an hour ago I was unsure but reminded myself that opportunities are there to be seized. Looking back now there is no question that I might the right choice in going. For the next couple of hours I proceeded to laugh my head off, relax and totally unwind, talk to some lovely, genuine people and do something I would never even thought about doing in Seattle!! It wasn't a tourist attraction, it wasn't really anything, just some half decent local theatre. It was, however one of the most memorable evenings of my trip!

We ended up going on from the theatre to the arcade, all of us rolling back a few years and having some fun! Again, just not something I ever would have done if it hadn't been for these three people and whilst its far from unique it was exactly what the doctor ordered. I'd been on the road for 2 months and it was the first time I went and just did something, well, normal. Its funny what sitting in a bar can bring you sometimes!

I Still Havent Found What I'm Looking For

2007-09-27T03:49:00.000-07:00

Some days, some places, they just seem to conspire against you. When you really need to find something it so often cannot be found. Its as if the Gods have decided to play a little trick on you, hiding away what it is you're after. Surely, you think to yourself, it cant be THAT hard to find.

Sometimes it just is. Travelling from place to place, all of them now new to me there's a certain amount of orientation to be done. To find my bearings within the metropolis I find myself residing at any given time. Some places everything just seems to fall into place. You find the places you want to visit, the right bus, the bar or whatever it is just seems to happen. Others, like here in Seattle, it becomes a mission of epic proportions. Simple tasks become enduring and the magic of being in a new place drains from your soul.

My arrival day presented me with the first of these simple tasks: Go for a walk, find a bar and chill. Not much can go wrong with that can it? I mean, I'm in Downtown Seattle, right in the heart of things, what could possibly be difficult about that? Actually, quite a lot!

It would seem Seattle's bars like to hide away. They like to be where you wouldn't think they'd be. I had expected to find them dotted about the place as frequently as the coffee shops that adorn every street corner, yet I seemed to walk and walk and walk and find nothing! I would later discover that the myriad of bars were located around Pioneer Square, an area that was as yet unknown. My disbelief continued and anxiety heightened as minute after minute ticked by with no bar in sight.

I was just about to turn around and find my way home when, of course, now not looking for one, a bar seems to appear, as if just placed there by the Gods. That's how I found myself in Collins Pub and sampled my first beer Seattle style! You'll just have to wait to hear all about the hoppy goodness of Seattle's finest!

The first mission then was eventually accomplished. As was the 2nd, in the end but the need to find a replacement charger for my mobile phone led me on a several hour long wild goose chase around Downtown Seattle.

Simply put, my charger decided its days were numbered in Albuquerque and with nothing approaching a nearby cell phone store either there or in Vegas (no, its ok, I didn't even bother to look), here in Seattle was my first chance to bring some life back into said device.

Once again, thinking to myself "hmmm, Seattle's a large City, a modern City, mobile phone shops are likely here en mass". Wrong, wrong wrong! My assumption that, like at home, I'd be bamboozled by the sheer volume of shops offering me every phone and deal under the sun was, in no uncertain terms, utter rubbish!

I did find a phone store, just the one but it would seem the Nokia phone is a rather Alien concept this side of the Atlantic and my request for a new charger for such a phone was met with wide eyes. I walked and I walked and I walked failing to find anything remotely like a phone shop. I was actually going through emotions of disbelief when, out of the corner of my eye a glorious image of a T-Mobile store glittered, welcoming me in.

A good hour and a half and $30 after I had set out I celebrated the new charger now residing in my bag! The old cliche that you never find something if you're looking for it never seemed to ring more true!

Welcome to Seattle!

2007-09-26T06:53:00.000-07:00

As introductions to a City go, Seattle's was probably amongst the worst I'd ever experienced. Nothing bad happened to me, in fact it wasn't any one event that stands out in my mind but as an advertisement for the City into which I'd just arrived, several people did their darnedest to make me dislike it!

In reality it all happened in the space of a bus. Well, two buses if you cant the one that refused to open its doors to let me in, despite seeing me there lugging my bags around at the airport bus stop. Nope, this stubborn ass driver had taken a leaf straight out of the London manual for bus drivers. Thankfully (or not) a 2nd bus arrived not long after to which I was invited to take a seat.

Someone, someone high up clearly wanted me to take that bus! Maybe I was finally detaching myself from London life, relaxing more and getting stressed less but what happened on that bus, although seemingly nothing to particularly get excited about, made me realise just how uptight or just plain annoying some people can be.

It seems rather funny to me now that something so simple, such a daily routine can be worth such thought, but the more I think about it, the more I realise its exactly this sort of thing that I needed to take a step back away from!

Let me begin with a young teenage guy sat on the bus, minding his own business when a n older guy decides he wants to sit next to him. The young lad is rather baffled by this, as am I. It wouldn't have seemed out of the ordinary except for the fact that the bus was left than half empty and there were plenty of completely empty double seats to be taken up. It wasn't at the front of the bus, the guy wasn't disabled, he seemed to just want an argument. Whatever it was the older guy wanted he was clearly going to argue about it, getting the driver involved in his little episode.

As I said, really its nothing. Its hardly ground breaking events but it made me see just how petty some people can be. How someone who clearly was old enough top know better, who could see the myriad of available seats could deliberately cause aggravation just for kicks is beyond me.

Which leads me nicely onto the 2nd incident. Nope we haven't even left the bus yet. Enter 2 guys who, it seemed wanted to be magically teleported to where they wanted to go in a matter of seconds. Every traffic light, every stop to let someone on or off, every moment that bus wasn't moving forward in a timely manner there was a huff from one, normally followed by a puff. The journey seeming to get evermore huffersom and puffersom as the minutes ticked by. Once again, this is hardly something new and I've lost count of the number of occasions I would yell at a imminently departing tube or bus that I'd just missed or that was making me late for work. However for me to be noticing such things and to be astonished by them makes me proud. If I was like this once, I would hope to God that now I've seen it for what it really is I will never go back to doing such things.

Most notably though it was something I hadn't really noticed in the US as a whole, (maybe I just HADN'T noticed it), yet within the space of 30 minutes or so I'd been subjected to all the things I'd been trying to get away from and felt an anger and a resentment of the locals that I'd not felt anywhere else. I hoped it would get better but as a "Welcome to Seattle" its hardly a positive advertisement for the City!

No Words

2007-09-26T02:21:00.000-07:00

I must admit I debated it! Looking on now I'm not sure quite what it was I was debating. II was always going to go but the money I'd been spending here in the US had been adding up and making this trip would be a large chuck of change out of the account again. Its the Grand Canyon though. How could I not?!

The pressure had been put on me straight away to make a decision about taking the trip. As I was checking in I was pretty much asked to make a decision there and then and whilst I would have loved time to debate and look around a various companies I was really short of time and committed myself to do it. It was, after all, on my "must do" list. When money's short though, decisions like this seem to weigh more heavily on your mind than you think they will.

Its not a short drive over the State border into Arizona and in order to get the most out of the day it was an early start and onto the bus at 6am. Part of my decision to take this particular tour (I was given some choices) was the inclusion of the Hoover Dam along the way. Its an impressive structure but the short stop was probably just about spot on. Unless your a hardened Dam fan you really dont need longer than 20-30 minutes to take it in. Besides the greater prize awaited beyond.

Before we'd even arrived at the Canyon the views were impressive all around. As we drove through the surprisingly green desert, hilly vistas swept before my eyes, Joshua Trees appeared on the roadside and the magic of the area swept around me. Bugs rebounded off the windscreen at a rate of knots causing a speckled mess I'd not seen rivalled before, or indeed, since. The slow traffic filled last mile or 2 were interjected with stories of Tarantulas and all manner of insect nasties that put the creeps into me somewhat, yet, secretly maybe, I half hoped to see one once I got in!

As you enter the park you start to wonder what all the fuss is about. Then it hits you, quite firmly straight between (and on) your eyes! A view that really no photo, no words, no movie can ever do justice too. Its simply something you HAVE to see for real. Stretching out before me, left and right was a scene that looked unreal. It just looks like it must be fake, a screen there, its just a sight that your brain cant compute is actually there, that exists.

I took my time walking along the South Rim track, trying to take it all in. Maybe its because you cant touch it or maybe your eyes cant adjust to the distances involved but even though you know its all real it still looks like a plastic recreation. I'd just sit on a rock for a few minutes trying to comprehend it. I couldn't, of course and I'm sure I had a glazed look of amazement over my face for the entire time i was there! Its simply stunning, no words can make it sounds any better than it is, just see it for yourself!

Wildlife is also plentiful and all around you, I don't think I managed to truly appreciate it as my jaw on the ground facial expression and mind boggling thoughts were taking up most of my brain power. You could easily spend days here, let alone a few hours! My time at the Grand Canyon came to an end in amusing style as the rather friendly squirrels seem to pose just for me!

The day could have ended there and I'd have been more than content but as we drove back down Route 66 towards Las Vegas once again, I would catch sight of views out of the front of our coach, classic images of the open road ahead, and with the sun setting it seemed to just be perfect! If I could capture an essence, this would have been it!

So I'd spent my money, I'd had my day and boy was it worth every last Cent! You can see the Canyon on your TV set, read about it in a book or view pictures of it on the internet but none of these will ever do it justice. Its simply magical!

Vegas Baby!

2007-09-25T03:26:00.000-07:00

Las Vegas is one of those places that cant help but have a romance about itself. The quotes from "Swingers" swirled around my head at every turn. Vegas Baby! I was here and I wanted to take it all in! I knew my time here was limited having decided to take the plunge and spend my dollar on a day trip to the Grand Canyon so it would be a case of trying to do the Vegas thing in just a couple of days.

The Vegas thing, of course, meant casinos. Lots of them! Having taken some advice from a few people at the hostel a few of us had headed down The Strip to register with a casino or two in order to get some vouchers to play the slots for free. Whilst this is a brilliant initial idea it can wear a bit thin when you realise just what you have to go through to get any money back. Basically you have to hit the jackpot on one of the machines designed for this free play stuff. Anything less than the JP and its a case of playing on. One guy in there had several thousand dollars in the bank that he couldn't get at because he didn't actually win the jackpot! Me? I flitted mine away in about 20 minutes.

I did manage to get a free Harrahs t-shirt and a free pic of me with one of the Showgirls out of it before succumbing to put some of my own money into the machines. We'd decided between us that we would all play the penny slots and take advantage of the famous Vegas hospitality, otherwise known as free drinks! Whether its a beer or a cocktail or anything in between, a small tip would secure one for you. And another and another. Playing those penny slots and drinking all sorts you quickly lose touch of the outside world . It could have been any time of the day or night and it wouldn't have made a difference. Stepping back outside into the 115 degree heat reality hits you as does the concept of escaping to the nearest air conditioned room you can find. Oh look, another casino!

As you walk along The Strip you are greeted by something impressive at every corner, at every step. Whether its the hugely impressive Fountains at the Bellagio, Ceasers Palace, New York New York or any one of the multitudinous elaborate gambling dens you cant fail to be impressed! In reality there are just so many of these places ta ht its nearly impossible to take them all in. Entering the MGM Grand, I felt like I was in Oceans 11 for a brief moment or 2. Outside Ceasers Palace I recalled scenes from countless boxing matches.

Inside the casinos though its different. I'd bounded between numerous ones in a day long adventure and in the end you realise that really, they're all the same. The elaborateness of the building is best seen from the exterior. The interiors all just blend into one in the end. Machine after machine after machine, players from all over and waitresses serving up those free drinks in the hope that with a big win, the tip might just be bigger than a buck or two.

I had decided that I couldn't come to Vegas without having a proper gamble though. So the penny slots behind me I withdrew about $80 and set out to play Blackjack. Win or lose it wasn't really what this was all about. I was in Vegas and I was playing blackjack, the romance of that notion was enough for me! Cheap tables are few and far between here and it wasn't long before I had to step up in minimum bet. I lost, of course, but as I gambled deep into the early hours of the morning I knew I was realising a little dream of mine. It had its price but I wouldn't change it!

In Vegas everything has to be impressive. It wouldn't be Vegas if it wasn't. Outside of the gambling its the shows that are one of the biggest draws. These things can be extraordinarily expensive and with no inclination to pay $60 to watch Celine Dion a group of us settled to watch what is widely regarded as the best of the free shows, at the Treasure Island Casino.

Have no doubt that just because its free it means its not worth seeing. It is, and then some! It may last just the half hour and you may be packed around the action like sardines but its worth the effort to see this daily show!

I left Vegas feeling I'd done it proud! Late nights, slots, drinks, shows and, of course a bit of blackjack! I may not have seen every casino on the Strip but I'd seen my fair share and in truth I felt like I'd seen what I wanted to see. I'd had a blast for a few days but any more would probably have been overkill. Hey, it's dead in here anyway!

Welcome to Sin City!

2007-09-18T06:00:00.000-07:00

Arriving in any place is quite the experience. There's part excitement and there's part nervousness and there are no doubt several other emotions that run there course over the time it takes from leaving one hostel till arriving safely at the next. There's an even stranger feeling when you arrive in a City or place that you've seen so many times on telly over the years that part of you feels like you should know it before you even get there. Las Vegas is undoubtedly one of those places. You'd have to have had your head buried in the sand for the last 20 years to not have an idea of what the place was like without ever getting there!

No matter what you've seen on tv or what you're told though nothing quite prepare you for the real thing! As the plane began its dissent into Las Vegas Airport the blackness of a desert at night is suddenly illuminated. And how! A dazzling array of light comes into view it stands alone yet seems to go on for forever. Its expansive yet contained and the buzz of energy hits you before you've even landed.

Arriving late at night in the City that never sleeps I hadn't expected any problems in getting to my new hostel. That was exactly what I got though. My hostel may have been on The Strip but not one of the 7 shuttle companies wanted to take me. Leaving a tired and drained me, sitting outside the airport close to midnight now not knowing what to do for the best. It wasn't walkable at all and I'd been told a bus could take me 2-3 hours as my new accommodation was on the other end of The Strip. I hadn't expected this at all. I'd deliberately booked into the Sin City hostel because the location of the USA Hostels place was notoriously bad.

In the end I was left with little option but to spend $30 and take a cab. Vegas was already taking a hit on my wallet and I hadn't even entered a casino yet! As the taxi drove me down towards my new sleeping quarters I realised I didn't really know this place at all. Nothing was familiar. We avoided The Strip which it seems is slow moving at any time of the day or night and instead took an alternative route which avoided anything I may have found remotely recognisable. This wasn't quite what my imagination had conjured up before arriving here!

I arrived at the Sin City Hostel, tired and drained sometime around 1am o find people getting ready to go out. I managed to grab a beer or 2 and got chatting to a few people outside the hostel for a while before my body and soul brought me to my bed and not long after, to sleep. I would need to be well rested. I was in Vegas now. The party was about to start!

Its a Funny Old Game

2007-09-14T06:54:00.001-07:00

It was always going to be rather strange being in the US for the World Cup. This is, afterall, a country where the term "football" means something quite different than it does at home. I knew it wouldn't be the same as watching it in England but in a strange way I was looking forward to experiencing it in a totally different environment. I hadn't really know what to expect before I'd left home. I didn't even know if the games would be shown anywhere let alone in local bars and so on.

I had been in Nashville for England's opening game and amongst many a Brit also interested in seeing the match. The owner of the hostel was himself interested in watching the game and had meant an early start for all interested parties as we gathered in the common room for England v Paraguay. There was some frantic channel flipping to find the game where we discovered unlike the coverage back home, the programme started just as kick off was being taken. The performance on the pitch unfortunately didn't exactly excite the room and would have been enough for anyone unsure about the sport to wonder what all the fuss was about!

I'd watched the third of England's group games at the hostel in Dallas. Sat in the living room with the owner. As a guy of Mexican origin he was pretty exited about the Tournament and we had watched Mexico's game together as well. Obviously with no bars around it was pretty much my only choice for watching that particular game and was pretty enjoyable to watch it with a fellow football fan.

The Tournament itself had been given a lot more press and coverage in the US than I figured for. Advertisements were all over the TV and posters and fliers donned many a bar, however this extra effort seemed to have gone unnoticed in many parts with the majority of Americans I spoke to blissfully unaware that there was a tournament even going on.

One of my favourite moments was while sat up at a bar in St Louis when a guy got wind of me being a Brit and approached me, nervously and excitedly. He just wanted to talk football with someone! You could tell it was like sweet relief to him. Thoughts that had been bubbling around in his mind for God knows how long were bursting forth now and he looked like he was loving every minute of it! THAT is what its all about. I was equally as excited to be able to share that conversation with him.

I was in Albuquerque for England's Quarter Final game against Portugal. I was due to catch my flight later that morning and the airport shuttle bus was due to pick me up what was likely to be spot on full time. I'd had trouble persuading the owners of the Hostel to get their TV out. They didn't believe there should be one in the hostel and it had taken some swift talking to persuade them otherwise. I felt like I'd jumped into a DeLorean and zoomed back 40 years as I watched the game with fuzzy reception on a black and white set that appeared to be on its last legs. It was better than not watching the game though!

As full time approached, England down to 10 men my shuttle arrived. The scores were level and my shuttle was here. I tried to put it off for as long as I could but I knew I'd have to jump ship on the game and get on that shuttle to catch my flight. I asked the driver to try and find the game on the radio but no one was covering it. Not one single station out of the seemingly endless thousands that jam the airwaves here.

I arrived at the airport and disappeared off to the departure lounge just in time to see some disheveled England faces on the screen there. They'd gone out on Penalties, as they so often seem to do. I may have been in different country but that hurt feeling was still there ingrained. My plane was delayed a few hours to add insult to injury! Despite being several thousand miles away I knew I was going through the same emotions as all those on English soil. Still I had Vegas to look forward to! Vegas baby!!!

Opportunity Knocks

2007-09-14T05:07:00.000-07:00

There's something relaxing about Albuquerque. Maybe its the lack of major tourist attractions, maybe its the incredible heat, maybe its the good beer, chance are its a combination of all the above along with a few other unknown mysterious factors that make you just want to kick back, have a beer and read a book.

I'd kept my brain ticking over by visiting more museums than you could shake a stick at, I'd also tried my hand at something a little new. Feeling like I should take up opportunities that present themselves. Such an opportunity was gifted to me whilst awaiting fellow hostelers in the Old Town Plaza. Ladies and Gents, I, Dave Dimmer took the Chance to have a go at playing the castanets. Don't worry, I didn't already know how to play, I along with 30 or so other castanet clickers were being taught just how to do it. Needless to say I wont be giving up the day job (yeah I know, I have to have one first) any time soon!! I may have been absolutely terrible and it is more than likely I would never have dreamt of doing this at home but this is part of what this trip is all about - Trying things you wouldn't normally get to, after all who here cares if I make a prat of myself?

I also took it upon myself to take advantage of being here in New Mexico by sampling some Mexican grub. Now, I've had my share of said food back home but there's nothing like trying it in a somewhat more traditional environment. Green chili burgers were advertised everywhere around here but I'd taken myself to a half decent restaurant to sample a proper meal and I'm glad I did! The taste is unquestionably different to similar food back home. I guess its what you'd expect but its only by sampling it for myself can I rant and rave about the real deal here with justification!

This was just about as much energy as I exerted here. I had to recover from my over exposure to the sun but maybe that proved to be a tad beneficial. Sitting outside, book in hand it was a real chance to unwind for a couple of days before I would be taking on Vegas! I could be sure there would be very little let up when I arrived there especially as I'd be there for the 4th of July festivities.

I may not have seen loads in Albuquerque but I'm glad I made it here. Its undoubtedly a very different side of the US and as I progress through this land I realise just how varied the Country is! Vegas next, and you can be damned sure thats going to be different again!

Anyone For Museums?

2007-09-13T07:36:00.000-07:00

One of the great things about visiting some of the Worlds Great Cities is that you get some of the Worlds greatest museums. Whether art, history, or something just plain bizarre the US has had no shortage on this front. New York undoubtedly has some world beaters in that department, Albuquerque cant quite make that claim but its got its fair share of cultural Centres to keep you occupied for a good few days!

Albuquerque is hot! Make no bones about it, its not just "Ooooo that's nice!" hot its "Damn, I need to get out of that heat" hot. You really don't want to be doing too much walking in this sort of weather and with Albuquerque's Old Town being a small compact area there's no need to stretch yourself too much.

Most of Albuquerque's attraction are confined to a small area centered on the Old Town Square, lined with Turquoise sellers a plenty and other street sellers hawking their wares and surrounded by Pueblo styled buildings make this area quite distinct and there's a certain throwback feel to the place.

I took it upon myself to give some of these museums a try. Most central of which is the rather bizarre Rattlesnake Museum. Yep, Rattlers a plenty along with a few other scary beast are housed in a tiny space just off the Central Square. As Museums go its not likely to win too many awards but for just a couple of dollars it was worth 30 minutes of my time.

Maybe even more surreal is the Atomic museum, playing home to, well all things atomic based! I guess you can have a museum for just about anything and without doubt here was the proof. Its not exactly the British Museum but then it doesn't pretend to be. Its the sort of place that's ideal for kids, I was just fascinated by the story of the Isotopes Baseball team! There's a mountain of information, if only thy had an audio guide to ease the burden!

I even managed to learn all things Turquoise at the imaginatively named Turquoise Museum. I'd love to say I could now tell you the difference between real stuff, cheap stuff, expensive stuff and fake stuff but, really, I cant. I know have a rough idea where to start, in reality that could prove to even more dangerous than not knowing anything! Mind you, I wasn't really in the market for semi precious stones. Or even precious ones for that matter. I'd be home a lot sooner than planned if I was!

The best of the Old Town museums was without doubt the Albuquerque Museum of Art and History. With entry at just $4 it was time and money well spent. A plethora of artifacts and information await you here and not really knowing much about the areas history it was a well designed museum that left me more than satisfied.

The most recommended of Albuquerque's museums is actually a short way out of town. I'd checked the map and decided it was worth the walk. The Indian Pueblo Culture Museum was seemingly the Town's biggest indoor attraction and I'd been advised by other travellers that Lonely Plant wasn't wrong when it gave this place two thumbs up.

Unfortunately my decision to walk was not the brightest one. The heat beaming down on me,I arrived feeling drained and dying for a drink. The sun was taking its toll on me and all I could think of once I'd got about half way round was water! There wasn't anywhere there to purchase a drink but I had seen a Wallgreens on my way in, that would be ideal. Well it would have been had it not been closed! Briefly baffled by the fact that a drive thru Pharmacy actually existed (next to Wallgreens) I did manage to locate another shop to sell me liquid beverages and guzzled them down like they were going out of fashion.

I'd found what I saw and remembered of the Museum absolutely fascinating and a shame I was feeling pretty rough at the time. Despite cutting my trip a little short I ended up suffering from a minor dose of heat/sun stroke that had me bed bound for the next 24 hours or so.

You can certainly learn a LOT in Albuquerque including just how damn hot that sun is!

The Route To Cult Status

2007-09-13T03:37:00.000-07:00

I have to admit, I wasn't too disappointed to say goodbye to Dallas. It was unquestionably time to move on to pastures new. Albuquerque was said new pasture. As destinations go it was something rather different to the barrage of Cities that had been my home from the start of this trip. That's not to say the place isn't big, it is, but that the environment and atmosphere are from from the high rise, hustle and bustle of the Big Cities which had preceded it.

This place is different. Make no bones about it! I appeared to step back a decade or 2 when signing in at my new hostel. The Route 66 Hostel is a rarity on many levels. Hostels in Albuquerque are few and far between. I believe there may be one more floating around somewhere but that aside it was this or a motel. So here I was being told about their rather antiquated chore system. Yep, you heard that correctly. Now I was aware that's how hostels may once have worked but in this day and age its far from common. SO each morning before you leave its case of taking a card (each with a simple chore on it) and carrying out said task. I've yet to find another hostel in the world that still does this, I guess it makes this place a little unique.

Travelling Route 66 is undoubtedly one of those romantic notions of travelling the US. I might not have had the chance to do that but I was staying on a stretch of the Original Route 66 and would have to walk down the famous road to get anywhere in this Town. Strange as it may sound, that made me glow a little inside. To be staying on such an historic road and to wonder about all the dreams that may have been realised as the Kerouac generation sped down here in search of their own freedom.

Now, I'd already met some weird and wonderful people on my travels but Albuquerque would host possibly the strangest of the lot. Staying at the hostel were a seemingly endless stream of religious cult followers. very few travellers were inhabiting the hostel, instead it was overrun by a group of people who had come to see their "Spiritual Leader", Amma. It seems these folk had come from far and wide to get a hug from this woman. I later found out that Amma is in fact India's primary Spiritual Figure and a woman who has hugged more than 21 million people over the last 3 decades! They were as inoffensive a group of people as you could wish to meet. A little peculiar for sure but they came across as a pretty harmless bunch.

The result of infestation of Amma lovers was a real lack of travellers. I'd found a couple kicking about in my dorm room although our plans to find the local bars had put paid to one of them joining us. With US drinking laws stopping you drinking legally until you're 21, our 20 year old room mate wasn't able to come. We tried to convince him otherwise but he had decided to do other things instead. I wasn't going to argue a 2nd time.

Albuquerque's bar scene is centered around the 4th and Central area, about a 10 minute walk from the hostel and gave me the chance to try another local beer. Fat Tire is the beer of choice around these parts and whenever I asked for something local I was always "Have you tried Fat Tire"? Well, I'm delighted to say I have and what an awesome brew it is too! The further into America I get the more I realise just how good their beer really is. Its just a case of staying away from the Bud, the MGD and without doubt the ugly side of Yank beers, the Pabst Blue Ribbon! The bad side of American beers can, unfortunately get even worse than that, for the sake of everyone, pray you don't end up going down that avenue!

Albuquerque's night life may not be world renowned, heck it might not even be the best in the State but its got a bit going for it. The happy hour bars, the good beer and seemingly plentiful supplies of live music make it a good fun place to while away the hours. That said, watching thrash metal bands does not a happy Dave make. Still the beer was good. The people here seem to enjoy their nights out and like a good chat too. Sat in a few bars someone would start up a conversation 90% of the time. I like them odds!

Cowboy Country!

2007-09-12T07:01:00.000-07:00

Texas! Its famous for its malls, its barbecue ribs, its accent, and , of course, its Cowboys. Deciding that a couple of days in Downtown Dallas was more than enough I took to the DART again, this time in the opposite direction. Destination: Fort Worth.

I'd been told by a few people that one of the must see things whilst staying in Dallas was to take a visit to the Stockyards, home of all things Cowboy. It was an adventure in itself just to get here. Again, the area showing its lack of interest in tourists, it was a case of taking a regular bus there once I'd arrived at the Fort Worth DART station. There weer no signposts and no indication from the bus or bus driver as to where we were and as a result I stayed on the bus as we drove right passed it. It was nothing a backtracking walk wouldn't take care of but I figured there would at least be some indication of where it was.

It was however, unquestionably worth the effort. You can quickly see how this place might have looked in the days of yesteryear. Its catering for tourists now, of course but it retains a classic air. The old stores, the roads and the historic railroads, than whilst now no longer have helped keep the traditional cattle industry history alive. The Stockyard station is now an uninspiring bunch of shops that are neither here nor there but I did get my fill of Texas Barbecue Ribs at a nearby restaurant. The offer was an all you can eat one and it was difficult to turn down the chance to experience a real taste of Texas in the heart of the place itself.

Hearing that there would be a Cattle Run in the late afternoon I decided to stick around to see it and take in some of the other sites around the place before that hour came around. I passed by the Rodeo. I had really wanted to take in a show while I was here in Texas but with the last train back to the hostel being so early it rendered it virtually impossible. I would have to face up to missing out on that one. I caught "Billy Bob's" out of the corner of my eye and headed over. I'd been told this was a "Texas Institute" but had absolutely no idea what the place was about or what lay ahead inside. I decided the dollar entry was worth it to find out!

Billy Bob's is a bar. But no ordinary bar. Its a all in one, super sized mega bar! The giant arena plays host to not only the bar but a restaurant of epic proportions, 12 pool tables, a whole entertainment area and a Bucking Bronco that looks like some sort of "Ultimate Edition" if such a thing was available.

I had to pass on the Cowboy Hall of Fame unfortunately. I remain intrigued as to just what is inside that building. Maybe I'll find out one day but I was here now to see the Cattle Run. Crowds had gathered all around the area and had packed the streets to see what was a daily occurrence here. The cattle were brought down the streets with the Cowboys in control of their beasts. It wasn't anything fancy but I'm glad I did stick around to see it.

Getting back to the hostel could easily have taken me a couple of days. I had been waiting for the bus to take me back to the station when I heard a voice calling to me "That only runs on a Saturday. You'll be there all night if you wait there!". Once again, the helpful signposting here had nearly played havoc! Fortunately I was correctly informed and found my way back home without too many problems. There's no doubt that this trip is worth it and its certainly something different to Dallas! That in itself is a bonus!!

Down Town Dallas

2007-09-12T03:22:00.000-07:00

My run in with Mr Con Man may well prove to be a valuable lesson especially with South America and South East Asia still to come on this trip. Nothing bad came of it, just an awkward half hour or so and a couple of dollars out of my pocket. It could have been a lot worse, that's for sure!

I did eventually get to the 6th Floor Museum, alone. Formerly the Texas Book Depository, famous for being the sight where Lee Harvey Oswald "supposedly" shot down President John F Kennedy in 1963 from the aforementioned 6th floor. Its a totally unispiring building from the outside, indeed the whole area surrounding it, including the infamous grassy knoll is just a sight where something happened once upon a time. Tourists mill around the place and their presence is the only thing to really tell you there is anything special about the place.

The museum is fairly well done but its one of those you need to be in the mood for reading to get the most out of it. Fortunately I was in one such mood although I can imagine the whole thing being a tad dull if you aren't! Of course its worth the entry fee alone to have a peak out of the window from which those famous shots were fired.

Its strange to think that there is much build up to Dallas and the JFK stuff but when you're actually here it somehow seems to drift into the background as if no one is quite sure what to do with it. There's certainly a few museums dedicated to the events and the conspiracies attached but I felt like the 6th Floor Museum had all but covered that for me and for anyone other than a hardened conspiracy nut.

In reality this is just about as touristy as Dallas seems to get. It comes across as a City that isn't quite used to the tourists and with its infamous shopping malls seems to have its financial gains covered elsewhere. Its a City not short of impressive structures and buildings but many of the attractions seem sparse and spread out. I allowed my feet to do the wondering for a few hours, no real aim in mind other than to just explore the City. Its also a City that seems to love its fountains!

I have to admit to being disappointed with Downtown Dallas. It has some impressive buildings but its Skyline falls flat when compared to New York or even Chicago and there feels like there's even less to draw you here than Downtown St Louis!

The feeling that this place wasn't really for me dawned on me quickly. I knew the evenings would be hard. The last train back out of here to South Irving was at 9.30pm, making staying Downtown for an evenings entertainment all but impossible. I knew that once I returned though there was even less to do back at the hostel. If I hadn't had a flight out of Dallas Fort Worth in a few days time I would have taken off somewhere else already. As it is, I would have to stick out a few days, have a few beers Downtown before it was time to go home and just catch an early night or two. Probably time to catch up on some sleep and some washing anyway!

Being Taken For A Ride

2007-09-11T03:41:00.000-07:00

Question. You meet a man at a train station who says he works where you are headed. You have no reason not to believe him. You don't look out of place, you're not clearly a tourist and many other people have been just as helpful so far. Do you a) believe him, and chat away or b) Ignore him and maybe waste an opportunity.

I chose option 'a' - I'll admit now that this wasn't the brightest move but given the circumstances I'd probably do the same thing again. Allow me to explain...

From where the hostel was located I needed to catch a DART train to the downtown area. This was about a 25 minute journey with the station just a 10 minute walk from my accommodation. As I was waiting for my train I was approached by a guy who wanted to know a little about what I was upto. This isn't unusual, I've been approached like this before and all to mutual benefit. I explained that I was headed into Dallas to see the Sixth Floor Museum. "Excellent, that's where I work" came his response. That's got to be good right? He certainly had the information about the place.

On the train now, I began to get his "hard luck story". Apparently he'd been in New Orleans and upon returning had been stabbed. Proceeding, of course, to show me the lovely stab wound. I can think of more pleasant things to see at any time of the day let alone first thing in the morning!

He spoke on and it was quickly becoming apparent that he didn't work at the 6th floor museum at all. Instead he did guided tours of the museum and around the JFK sites. Even that didn't seem quite right. He had began talking about it as if it was an official guided tour. I had the feeling it was anything but that. I was getting an uneasy feeling as we pulled into the final stop where Downtown Dallas awaited.

Here came the crunch. What I should have seen coming from the very beginning. I had been taken for a ride in more ways than one! "So you want a guided tour then?" I really didn't. "No thanks, I'm fine on my own". Which lead naturally to the pay off line "So can you spare me a few dollars?" Bingo. There's the money question. Rightly or wrongly I did give him a couple of bucks. Naturally having done that he wanted more. he wasn't getting any more that was certain! "Right I'm off to the stations". Wait....So not only did he not work at the museum, he wasn't doing any kind of guided tour and was now apparently off to New Orleans. Right. Its OK, I believe you. I mean, what possible reason do I have to doubt him?

Just Dont Ask!

2007-09-10T07:17:00.000-07:00

I'm sure many of us have asked a pretty dumbass question or 2 in our lifetimes. I know I have. One of my all time favourite dumbass questions was one I asked upon arriving in Munich last year as part of a month backpacking around Europe. I was around two thirds of the way through my trip and had got into a bit of a routine. I wanted to make the most of my time so would often dump my stuff and just head out straight away as was the case this time round. Having dropped my bags in my dorm room I headed out, seeing the lass at the reception I thought to ask her "So where's good to go out?". In itself perhaps not a dumb question. Her rather startled look upon hearing the question should have given the game away. "Umm...I hear there's a BEER FESTIVAL in town". It dawned on me sharpish and for a brief moment I wanted to be swallowed up by the floor. I found myself at the entrance of Oktoberfest about 30 minutes later.

Now here I was again. Silly question poised and at the ready, looking for the perfect moment to fire it off. Now, here in Dallas I was sensing that moment might be about to arrive.

I'd flown in from New Orleans that morning on a rather small aircraft where every turn or jolt sinks through your stomach as if questioning what the hell you're doing up in the air like this and had located my new hostel after navigating the Dallas bus network. Budget accommodation options are far from plentiful in this City. Indeed, I was in the only hostel located in Dallas. The true location of this place is about 30 minutes outside of the downtown area by way of the DART (Dallas Area Rapid Transit) with the hostel located in a suburb called South Irving.

I'd already met a couple of people that had stayed here in Dallas and had both in fact stayed right here at the hostel I was now inhabiting. It had received high praise from both concerned parties and it was clear to see why they'd said it had a nice family atmosphere - As it actually WAS the owners home - Daughter and all.

It certainly had a homely feel to it and the owner was as nice as they get and I was made to feel very much at home. The place was small though and sparsely populated even if it was the only hostel in town. The few that did roam its halls were a mixture of pure strangeness. There was the older woman, who if roommates are to be believed was amongst the loudest snorers the world had ever seen, there was a guy who whilst quite friendly undoubtedly had something quite unsettling about him, there was a guy who never spoke and was leaving the morning after I got there and 2 Aussie girls, who were really the only normal ones around and seemed quite unsettled by everyone else. I got chatting to one of them who was spending her 2nd night on the sofa not being able to endure the aforementioned snoring any longer. It was certainly a surreal household.

It was on trying to escape this scene that I loaded my stupid question rifle ready for firing. My normal escape route out of a situation like this is to make a move to a bar. I can have a relaxing pint or 2 and hopefully get chatting to some locals or whoever is around. Its my little escapism from a deathly hostel and an oft used refuge. I hadn't seen anywhere nearby on my way into the place so figured I'd just ask where the nearest bar was. I mean, having seen the local in Boston things couldn't get any worse than that. My Stupid Question Rifle was now fully loaded and my hand was on the trigger...."Sorry, could you just tell me where the nearest bar is?" - Pow - The short had been fired. A moment or twos silence followed. An embarrassed look, an uneasy stare. "Sorry, no bars around here" came the reply. Before I had a chance to let that sink in our Hostel owner continued "Irving's a Dry County".

Oh!
Dear!
God!

Good Times In The Big Easy

2007-09-10T03:53:00.000-07:00

When you read about New Orleans or someone tells you about the place. Whether fiction or factual the stories all seem to revolve around the same thing - Having a good time! The nightlife, the bars, the people and the music all combine to make the Big Easy one of the THE places to let your hair down and just party!

Katrina may have taken some of the people away but the feel good vibe had survived to some extent and whilst the bars may not have been heaving all over town there were places that still seemed to be thriving.

Whilst Bourbon Street may be the main tourist trap and home to bar after bar packed with tourists its still worth an evening spent supping on a bottle of MGD or Bud and catching some of the live music that thrives here. Jazz can be heard all over town, some of it annoying enough to give you a splitting headache in a little over 5 minutes. Jazz may not be my thing but being in New Orleans I gritted my teeth to sample a few bands hoping that somewhere along the line something would click with me. It still hasn't yet! Luckily jazz didn't fill every bar in town!

On my first evening in my new City I'd wound up going into town with a large group from the hostel and we'd taken ourselves away from Bourbon Street to Frenchman Street. Things here were a little different. The bars were full and there wasn't the sleaze around that was synonymous with Bourbon Street. Suffice to say the drinks flowed and as the hours flew past the group had split and I'd wound up supping a pint of "Purple Haze" - A local fruit beer in a place called Mi-Mi's where I had absolutely no idea where I was! That's what good nights are made of!

A few days into my stay in New Orleans and most of the people I'd been with, including me had felt like we'd seen Bourbon Street and hung around the French Quarter for our entertainment enough now. We wanted to get away from the tourists traps and get to actually meet some locals. The decision was made to head into the Downtown area, one we were strongly advised to stay away from, for an evening in the hopes of experiencing something a little different.

What we found was quite unexpected in a lot of ways but makes perfect sense the more you think about it. Initially we dumped ourselves in a couple of bars, these places were packed out and full of local spirit. There was a slightly uneasy feeling that we hadn't been invited but were never made to feel unwelcome. Some of the woman seemed a little wary of us and we couldn't help but think they were wondering why we weren't in the French Quarter with all the other out of towners.

A couple of people were kind enough to point us in the right direction for a decent club for the remainder of the night. If was a mixed bag of an affair and I had a feeling of being well and truly ignored for the most part, then as I was just about to call it a night it all changed. I was stood at the bar about to grab a soft drink before going home when the guy stood next to me got wind of my Nationality. "Let me buy you a drink". I was unsure, but he continued insistent "I wanna introduce you to some of my friends". The next thing I knew I had a bottle of beer in my hand and was chatting to a top bunch of people.

Whilst they wanted to know what the hell I was doing out here they were, all of them, thanking me for being here. I didn't really know what to make of it all. Suddenly we'd become mini celebs for a few moments. "Hey this guys from England, come and say hi" seemed to reverberate around the room despite the noise levels only allowing it to carry to the person next to the man shouting it.

The whole night was turning out to be quite surreal and without doubt exactly what we had been looking for. It didn't stop there either, as we were leaving I was caught and grabbed by a lass outside who, it seemed, had taken an instant shine to me. I have to admit to being totally taken in by her. We spoke for no longer than 30 minutes and I couldn't tell you her name but it was, strange as it may seem, one of those unforgettable moments on an unforgettable night.

The Katrina Effect

2007-09-07T05:58:00.000-07:00

I had arrived in New Orleans with a certain sense of unease about my latest location. My desire to see this City despite the events and aftermath of Katrina had brought me here but I was never really sure what to expect. The news coverage of the place had all but died away months ago and I was aware that they were trying to rebuild but the information I was getting was that this was happening at a slow pace. There was certainly a mixed reaction from friends and family to me going here and with good reason I suppose. No one really knew what the place would be like now. Least of all me but I sure as hell planned on finding out.

The devastation caused by Katrina was pretty evident right from the off. Walking up from the hostel towards the French Quarter many of the houses didn't look like they'd been touched since the hurricane swept through. Doors broken or non existent, windows smashed in and just places no better than in ruins. Dirt watermarks could be seen a good couple of meters up on most of the buildings I hadn't really expected the evidence to be so stark, so blatant.

At the riverfront it felt like a ghost town. Barely a soul could be seen anywhere and the kiosks that once would have sold river trips were now vacant. It was an eerie feeling to say the least. I imagined this area would once have been thriving, full of tourists but was now a lost town in its own City.

I spoke to a few people around the hostel or in town. A few were there helping to rebuild the City. They'd been doing it for months and it seemed there was no end in sight just now. The finger of blame has been pointed all around but in truth no single party can be responsible for whats happened or happening. Its a City that has almost been forgotten about but is as much in need now as it was when Katrina hit.

The French Quarter remained largely untouched by the hurricane and Bourbon Street is still thriving. Its vibrant, sleazy debauchery and good time groove still pulse away and it still has a captivating edge. Its people numbers were down to 75% of what they were at its peak and one can imagine the sheer energy the place would have generated with 3 or 4 times more visitors. Its essence is still there and hopefully one day it can get back to its former glories.

Through it all though New Orleans still seems capable of having a laugh at its own expense. T-Shirt stalls abound with Katrina references and possibly only in the Big Easy would you get away with shirts bearing "Katrina gave me the best blow job I've ever had" or "FEMA - Fix Everything My Ass". I wondered how the residents felt about these slogans or those who lost loved ones to the events. Would they be able to laugh at these? I never did find out the answer to that one but I like to think that its a positive move rather than a negative one. I think I may be hoping for too much but after all New Orleans is a law unto itself and a place like no other!

Sometimes you just Marvel!

2007-09-07T02:36:00.000-07:00

Its not all that often that you come across inventions or just ideas that you marvel at but here In new Orleans they had a couple of them! The first was something I'd initially seen out in Memphis. I had to double check to see if what I was looking at was indeed what my eyes were telling me it was! Whilst down on Beale Street we'd passed a place that appeared to be a bar, selling drinks out of what appeared to be mini washing machines. Now if that doesn't make you do a double take, very little probably will!

Now here I was in New Orleans, taking in Bourbon Street and the French Quarter when what should we pass but another washing machine extravaganza. Whilst my eyes had now adjusted to seeing such a sight those I was with certainly hadn't! There was no doubt in anyones mind what was going to happen next.

The washing machines were housed in a bizarre looking place. Not quite a bar but not quite a cafe, it didn't really seem to know what it was. It did however know what it was selling. Cocktails and daiquiris straight out of these funny looking washing machine contraptions. These thing would churn around their variously and imaginatively named alcoholic slush puppies and a cup would be poured direct from it. An icy, sludge of a drink, cold as hell and rather lively in the alcohol department they were as much of an experience as the place itself. I dont think I'd go crazy to have another one but when you see something like that, you cant help but want to try it! There's no doubt that we'd just taken in one bizarre but somewhat unique experience!

Even better ideas were afoot at India House, my chosen hostel for the duration of my stay in the Big Easy. Shortly after arriving I'd heard a voice "Hey, how ya doing?" There was no doubt the tone was familiar. Darren and Lewis, two of the English lads I'd met in Nashville were also currently residing here, I had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time I bumped into someone I'd met at an earlier point on this trip. It was hanging around in the outside communal area that I noticed ingenious idea number 2.

There was quite a large crowd of us, nattering and drinking away the early evening when my failure to make a visit to a supermarket or liquor store had resulted in me having a lack of beer. Low and behold I was informed of the machine sat not 10 meters away from me. "Just go get one out of there." I looked on to see a coke machine. "Umm...I was really after a beer." I was instructed to take a somewhat closer look at aforementioned machine.

Beer. Lots of it. Not a can of coke in sight. This was indeed a beer dispensing coke machine. Awesome! Whilst its beer selection may not be about to set the world on fire it had what was needed. No need to go out, no need to do anything. Just whack a dollar in the thing, and take out a nice cold can of cheep American Beer. There was now no need to worry about beer running out or coming back from a night out a fancying a beer only to not have any. Right here we had the perfect solution on hand.

I look forward with interest on the next brilliant idea I may come across!

Decisions, Decisions!

2007-09-05T06:30:00.000-07:00

Life is full of decisions. Some you make are good, some turn out to be quite the opposite. Hindsight is always 20/20 but at the time, moire often than not, you have no idea if the decision you have made is a good one or not. Lets take my decision to walk from the train station to my hostel instead of taking a cab.

It was the middle of the day, it was early enough for it not to be getting dark for quite some time and I figured not only would the walk do me good but I'd save a good few bucks by using my feet. It wasn't even as if I was walking blind. I had directions printed off from the hostel booking website. No reason for it not to be easy, surely.

The directions turned out to be next to useless to anyone that didn't actually know the place and on several occasions I had a feeling that I'd missed a turning or was plain walking in the wrong direction. Having walked for considerably longer than I figured for I was almost certain I'd gone too far. These fears were all but confirmed by the looks I was now getting.

As I trudged along, backpack now seeming to weigh a tonne I was noticing how things had rather rapidly changed to where I was just a few minutes before. Large groups of people were gathered outside their homes, families, some looking a little disheveled gathered on porches. Their eyes fixated on me. There was very little doubt now that I was in the wrong part of town and the looks seemed to ask me what the hell I was doing here. They had a point to be fair. I wondered what the hell I was doing here!! Now all I had to do was try and turnaround, walk right past them again all without looking like a complete prat. This, however much I thought I could pull it off was completely and totally unavoidable!

I did eventually find my way to the correct turning and located a two way street with trams running up and down it. Again, my instructions were next to useless. I didn't even know which direction I wanted to go in! I crossed the street several times trying to figure it out. I tried asking a couple of people but got either blank looks or totally ignored. Someone was kind enough to let me know which direction they thought was best. Once on the tram the driver was as useful as my map and it was by luck that a kind man had some idea of where I wanted to go and gave me directions for getting off the tram.

I finally arrived at the hostel a good hour and a half after setting off from the train station. I'd made it but in hindsight I wish I'd taken that cab!

Watching The World Go By - Guided Version

2007-09-05T03:37:00.000-07:00

I have to admit that part of what makes me want to travel is simply the journey. The getting to and from. I used to love it when I was a kid. Sitting in the back of my parents car or on a long haul coach, watching everything fly by. Moist of this would have been in France. I just wanted to see it all. I would stay awake as long as I could just to see what was passing me by. Everything always seemed so distant. I remember wanting to jump out of the car or bus and just be in the middle of nowhere for a bit. It was different to me and there was a certain romanticism about it.

I think that all still stays with me now. I still want to do that to this day and the idea of just cruising round France, just winding up in all sorts of little towns and villages still excites the hell lout of me!

I was hoping it would also be part of the fun as I travelled around on this trip. I knew, of course, that not all journeys would be fun and indeed some would be downright nasty but I always prefer to travel by day if I can so I get to see more.

As I left Memphis I knew I had about an 8 and half hour Amtrak journey ahead of me. The trains in the US are renowned for being slow and this, I knew, would be no exception. Still I looked forward to seeing the country that lay before me. That said, being up at 5am to catch a train at 6.50am does very little to put you in a good mood and eager to see things.

As a result my head lay rather still as I slept for the first 4 hours of the journey. Not exactly that ideal, romantic train journey I had in mind. The 2nd half of the trip though sprang into life rather unexpectedly.

As we trundled along we were greeted by a voice over the intercom system. Apparently there were some volunteer guides on this train who would talk us through the lats half of the trip. feeling more alive and refreshed thanks to my earlier sleep I was all ears and in complete appreciation of the little project they had going. It was such a nice touch to have this. It wasn't over the top and anyone was free to ask questions. We may have trudged along but watching the scenery change through my window and hearing some of the stories attached to things we passed couldn't help but bring a big smile to my face.

As New Orleans approached the damage of Katrina was there for all to see. Patches here and there. It looked like someone had gone on a rampage and just tossed things around the night before. It was 10 months on from the devastating hurricane and I wondered what else might await me in the City itself.

As I planned my trip I had gone through many doubts over coming to New Orleans. It was without doubt one of THE places I'd wanted to experience and heard so many great things from so many people. I;d read about the place, books like Catcher in The Rye had given me all the inspiration I had needed to come but the arrival of Katrina had blown my plans right up in the air. Initially I scrapped my plans to visit altogether. It was simple, New Orleans no longer really existed.

The stories of looting, killings and general terror in the City was probably enough to put off most people. 5 people a day on average were murdered in the City. Why would anyone want to go there? I'm unconvinced anyone thought it a good idea for me to continue to include it but as I heard more reports and more news from people more in the know it seemed apparent that more than anything i SHOULD go there. New Orleans thrived on people, a buzz and atmosphere and it needed people back to get that going again. I'd heard the French Quarter, the most touristy area in the City, was largely untouched by the storm. In the end it was almost a no brainer. I was going and now as the train rolled in, here I was.

All You Can Elvis

2007-09-04T02:31:00.000-07:00

Beale Street maybe Downtown Memphis' big attraction but its slightly out of town superstar attraction is unquestionably the most visited tourist site in Tennessee. Graceland. Former home to Elvis. One of those rare superstars that need just the one name to be instantly recognisable.

I was always going to do it if I came to Memphis but learning that the most basic tour was priced at a staggering $33 was hardly music to a budget travellers ear. I would just have to suck it up and set off with Steve to explore all things Elvis. The tour itself gave us roughly 2 and a half hours to see everything and be back on the bus. Now when I say everything I mean the small portion of attractions that the basic ticket allows.

The key part of the deal though is covered. The mansion that was once home to "The King". Its smaller than you may think but jam packed with artifacts and a nifty audio tour (one of the best I've experienced) guides you through the various rooms. Having never been particularly into the man or his music it was interesting to learn about the man himself as I toured around. Its certainly an impressive place but only the most dedicated of fans would need more than a couple of hours to see it all.

Outside in what was essentially the back garden there was a tranquil vibe and an air of reflectiveness in the air as you passed by the pool where earlier video clips of a happy, full of life Elvis were being shown and onto the Presley family graves. This certainly gave me a lump in my throat and can only imagine what it must be like for those hardcore Elvis fans who make the pilgrimage here to pay tribute to their hero.

Feeling like we had covered the house we were left with just enough time to use the other available portion of our tickets and go take a quick look around Lisa Marie. I'm referring to Elvis' private jet before anyone gets the wrong impression! Whilst its certainly impressive and decked out to make the man feel like royalty its actually a little smaller than I had imagined once you get inside.

$33 lighter we headed back into town where an equally impressive experience befell us of an altogether different ilk! You've probably seen it on telly or in a film or heard stories of it somewhere but the giant steak challenge became a reality in Memphis. As I sat munching away on a somehow fatty looking salad a family entered the restaurant and took seat s just a table away. Giant beef challenge. I'd seen it on the menu. Complete the thing and all the trimmings in under an hour and earn your place on the wall of fame. Images of Bart trying to force feed Homer Simpson when no more meat would go down sprang to mind. Now here was a real life Homer, somewhat embarrassed family in tow as Dad ordered the mighty meat challenge. He'd even get his $19.99 for the meal should he complete it!

We didn't have the will to sit through the hour just to see if he could munch his way through a hefty four pounds of meat along with bread, fries and trimmings. I left smile on my mug that I had even had a chance to witness a true taste of Americana!

A trip to the Rock'n'Soul museum capped off the Memphis tourist trap day and again I felt somewhat disappointed. The place was fairly small and the exhibits mostly uninspiring. Coupled with what seemed like a never ending audio guide that wanted to keep talking at you like Cliff in Cheers it failed to set my world on fire.

Memphis as a whole had disappointed. Maybe I'd just fallen in love with Nashville and that had negatively impacted on my impression. It surely didn't help having to stay in a motel some distance out of town. I'd met several people along the way who had advised me that you really didn't need too long in Memphis. Some had done it as a day trip from Nashville to go and see Graceland and on reflection 2 nights would have been plenty. I decided to take it easy on my final day, making the most of my own room, some peace and quiet, a nice shower and a TV in my room. It was heaven to do for a day and helped recharge the batteries for a 5am start to get to New Orleans!

Getting the Memphis Blues

2007-09-03T06:28:00.000-07:00

Before leaving home I'd heard the stories, been told the tales and listened to the warnings. Greyhound was, in almost all cases, very bad news! My journey from Nashville to Memphis was my first chance to live this transportation experience first hand! I'd taken the warnings (or some of them) on board and this would at least be a short daytime trip.

It didn't start well. I'd arrived early and booked my ticket in plenty of time but the bus was oversubscribed. It was one of those stories I'd heard. The people telling me about their experiences flooding my head. How long would I be waiting here? Would another bus come?

I was somewhat dubious about trying to ask for help given the woman at the ticket counter had failed miserably to understand me. She'd asked for my name, even asked me to spell it. I duly obliged only to get a ticket in the name of Mr Timmeo. Hardly the most encouraging of signs. Still I was reliably informed that a 2nd bus would be along shortly.

As it turned out this was possibly the best thing that could have happened. Now I understand if you're in a rush or have a connection then this is hardly the ideal situation but the half hour delay meant a half empty bus and a couple of seats all to myself. A couple of stops and fours hours later I was in Memphis. Hardly the nightmare journey I had envisaged.

I had decided to cut my stay in Memphis down to just 3 nights after being told by many that it just wasn't worth it. Coupled with my enjoyment of Nashville and no hostel in Memphis it seemed like a sensible decision to add the extra day onto Nashville. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I've ever made.

They don't appear to used to backpackers in Memphis. Indeed no hostel is a sure sign of that for starters. Budget options are not plentiful and I found myself staying in a Super 8 motel some distance out of town. Indeed arriving there I wondered where the hell I was! Cast away in the middle of nowhere off a couple of main roads and surrounded by very little indeed. My enquiry at the desk about where I could find food nearby was met initially by some driving instructions. I informed the man I didn't have a car. His 2nd reaction was laughter. His third was to hand me a pizza leaflet. Nice.

I was joined mid pizza munching by Steve who had arrived a day earlier from Nashville and the two of us headed out via the hostel "shuttle" (aka someones car) downtown to spend an evening with the City Centre's number 1 attraction - Beale Street.

Renowned for its plentiful bars and live blues music Beale street has traditionally been the heart and soul of Memphis. I went with high expectations of a blues equivalent of Nashville what I actually found was rather disappointing.

We took a walk from one end to the other to see what was available and decided to bar hop for a bit just to sample what was on offer in various establishments. The first bar we took our money to was, unfortunately, a sign of things to come. A splattering of maybe 3 or 4 people and us. The Cardinals weer up on the screen behind the bar but there was little else there to make it worthwhile staying past an opening beer.

Our search for some life too us through several more bars of a similar ilk. Dead, soulless places. Maybe on the weekend it gets livelier here but after Nashville there was an undoubted disappointment in what lay before us.

We did eventually find a place with some live music and more of an atmosphere, our jubilation was short lived though on learning that 90% of those in the bar were fresh off a Contiki Tour. We ended up staying to they kicked us out at the midnight hour (not exactly rock'n'roll opening times!) and found our way to one final bar, in fact the only one we could find open and joined the handful of other people whiling the late hours away with another beer.

All in all Beale Street didn't just fail to impress it downright depressed. Maybe we were spoilt in Nashville. Maybe my expectations were too high but Beale Street just didn't cut it for me. Not one little bit.

Music City!

2007-08-31T03:29:00.000-07:00

Live music may have been the core of my time in Nashville but there was plenty of other things going on as well. As American Cities go Nashville has a fairly compact feeling to it and is pretty easy to walk around getting from place to place.

With the Country Music Festival in town, things were going on all over the place. Live music was of course everywhere but that aside there were funfairs and shows, free gifts and competitions to enter. I've never seen pain killers given out on the street before and I have to admit being a little baffled by the concept!

Among the entertainment was the MLB roadshow. I passed by the batting cage and saw people pitching against the speed gun. I nervously watched for a while before plucking up the courage to have a go myself. Needless to say its not as easy as it looks. It certainly isn't like throwing a cricket ball. My first few pitches wound up a mile off the strike zone and although I did end up getting it a little closer, a 55mph fastball isn't likely to see me into the majors any time soon! I wasn't going to leave without having a swing of the bat too! Obviously there were people doing this who knew what they were doing. It seems like every kid at least learns some parts of the sport. Me, I'd never done this before and know what I know from watching it. Playing it is a different matter entirely. After a couple of swings and misses I did get the hang of it and was pleased just to be making contact with the balls that were coming at me (on what was probably the lowest speed). Whether I was crap or not didn't really matter to me, I'd finally had a go at it and had great fun in doing so!

In a place known as "Music City" there's more music to it than just the live variety. Record Companies, recording studios and offices fill whats known as Music Row - A section just outside the downtown area chock full of industry buildings. Indeed, artists come to Nashville to both record and play here. for many its a dream realised when they finally do. One such example was stying at my hostel. A guy called Lawrence had brought himself, his music and his guitar for the festival. You could see by the look in his eye that the whole thing had engulfed him. It seemed to turn a confident man into a nervous, bewildered one. Perhaps it was the realisation that there was so much talent here already or that his songs just might not cut it. Whatever it was the enthusiasm seemed to drain within a few days. Had it been me I would have wanted to be out there playing wherever and whenever I could and I got the impression he had come with such intentions but what I saw was a man afraid it seemed by what he was witnessing and awestruck by the experience.

I went to experience Music Row for myself, to see first hand the other heart of Nashville. Its impressive for sure. Building after building housing studio after studio interspersed with Record Company Headquarters or offices. Giant guitars surrounded many of the buildings, with road names dedicated to the great artists of yesteryear. There's no doubt that this City lives up to its billing!

Nashville is also home to a rather bizarre replica of the Parthenon. It seems so much out of place amidst everything else here. Set away in Centennial Park, just a few minutes walk from the hostel its place is not a natural one. It was designed as an exact replica of the Greek structure to go with Nashville's billing as the "Athens of The South". Now, I'm not entirely sure where that came from. There seems to be very little evidence of anything in this City being Greek at all, this building aside of course.

My three days in Nashville turned into five in the end. I had a real feel for the place. Its addictive in so many ways. The atmosphere and vibe of the place is relaxed, polite yet party filled. Its people and those visiting were friendly and welcoming and the ability to listen to live music all day, every day is bliss. The beer flowed, the music rolled and my time flew! Heck I was even doing the "Holla and Swalla" like a local by the time I left (if you're not sure what on earth that is, see the pic below. Raise your glass, scream your head off "Holla" and then drink your beer "Swalla" - Easy really)! Nashville, I WILL be back one day!

What the hell is CMT?

2007-08-30T03:39:00.000-07:00

I was sat in St Louis, perusing the Internet when an email popped up from the hostel I had booked in Nashville. A somewhat unusual request was contained within. Apparently they wanted payment up front for the 3 days I had booked there due to something called the CMT Festival.

My curiosity obviously got the better of me and I googled said event only to be horrified by what I saw. The Country Music Festival! OH MY GOD! I was going to be in Nashville during the biggest Country Music Event in the World! Many thoughts ran through my mind, most of which had involved me wondering how on earth I was going to deal with 3 days of nothing but Country Music, of Country Music obsessed fans. I remember feeling like I was in my own private nightmare!

I happened to mention this to Emily when I saw her, only to be laughed at (sympathetically of course) "So do you know any country music?" She asked. "Do the Dixie Chicks count" I feebly replied. More laughter "Oh and I know that Achy Breaky Heart Song". More laughter, less controlled this time. I felt a sick feeling in my stomach.

And so it was that I came to be in Nashville for the Country Music Festivities of 2006. Unwilling to spend the rather hefty sums of money required to get passes to the main events I satisfied myself with the live music that seemed to be oozing from virtually every bar in town. Besides what was the point of paying to see someone you dont know sing a pile of songs you don't know when I could get that for free in any of the plentiful bars on Broadway and down 2nd.

From 10am till 2 or 3am the live music rolled out of bar after bar. During the day I was happy enough just plonking myself down in a bar, writing, listening and watching. Taking in the atmosphere, the people, the vibe. I knew very little of any of the songs, occasionally something by Johnny Cash would ring familiar bells or Lynyrd Skynyrd would become recognisable. Generally though I just took it all in. Some of it I found I actually quite liked, I mean, I couldn't define what it was or if it was one sort of Country Music but there were definitely things I preferred.

I could sit, sup a beer or 2, listen and watch some cool live music, write and chat (they would have the volume just perfect for it) and then when it was something I wasn't over keen on I could move on, find another bar and so it went on. I must have visited a pile of different bars over my time there, seen dozens of live bands, even got myself an autograph or 2 - Sometimes the artists would come round during a show and just sign stuff, wanting a little souvenir but having nothing for them to sign I got them to scribble in my journal. I think its made for a nice keep sake.

The Stage and Tootsies became my favourite hang outs and places I went back to visit the most. Tootsies I later learnt had a very storied history in Nashville. It was the place so many artists and bands had begun their playing careers or been talent spotted. It was in this bar that something quite unexpected happened.

I'd met an Aussie called Steve back at the hostel and the two of us had decided to go and check out some of the bars and music in town. This ended up being put on hold as the two of us were asked to be part of a documentary being filmed in Nashville by a Polish group staying at our hostel. We'd both agreed to it and after signing our lives away for them we were given our instructions. They asked me to appear to be teaching this woman how to play a country song on the guitar. Having never heard the song before I had no idea of the tempo of how it really went, I just had the chords and that was pretty much it.. Still, they seemed happy enough with it and got me to whack out a few other tunes as well before I left, the cameras still taking all the action in. It was certainly a strange experience and I guess not everyone can claim to have been on a Polish documentary!

We finally did manage to get into town and bounced around between bars to see what was going on and what some of the ones I hadn't been in were like. Obviously I knew very little of the music but the odd song was starting to become familiar and we were both now able to sing a few words to "I Love this Bar". Of course we had no idea whose song it was, we'd both just heard it a few times and we pleasantly surprised to catch a cool bluegrass version of it while we were out an about. Later in teh even we'd ended up in Tootsies and John Stone (who I'd seen earlier on in my time in Nashville) was playing so we decided to stay for a bit. We'd got chatting to a couple of lasses who were in town for the festivities but were getting a little tired of the music after John Stone had finished and were thinking of leaving. It was announced shortly afterwards that ABC wanted to get in and so some filming so they were locking the doors. If you wanted to leave you had to do it now or else go to the upstairs bar and wait for about 30 minutes.

Not feeling like we could be bothered to wait around we had decided to leave when one of the girls turned to us and said "Don't go, when they do this it normally means that someone good is going to be playing". Thinking it could be interesting, we followed the girls upstairs. They seemed to know what they were doing so we stuck around the back of the upstairs bit nearest the stair to get back down again.

Rumours upstairs started going round that a band called "Sugarland" were going to be playing. Now, of course this name meant absolutely nothing to neither Steve nor I. We were being told all sorts of stories ranging from the "they're really not that good" to "Think Nashville's U2" Whilst this may have been a rather big overestimation of their size they seemed to be a pretty well known, popular band. The pushing and shoving for position started creeping in.

45 minutes passed before we got the go ahead to make our way downstairs again. Somehow what we saw when we got to the bottom of the stairs was not the half empty room we expected but one already packed to the rafters. Locked doors my ass! Still they allowed just a few people from upstairs in, and being amongst the first few down we were allowed in. The girls were pretty excited by the whole thing and we were both getting into the mood of the occasion.

TV cameras were everywhere, apparently it was to be screened in an ABC special. The band played just a few songs, a couple of them I realised, I'd heard many times over the course of the past few days. Only know did it actually click that they were Sugarland's songs and here they were performing in a cramped by, free of charge to me and just a few others! The girls were teaching us the words and we were trying to sing along as best we could. The band shot back out the door pretty soon after they'd finished but I was totally blown away by the whole event. The atmosphere in there was just incredible, it seems everyone knew all the songs and the band captured me in those moments they were on stage. It was all starting to make me realise that some of this country music stuff was actually alright! Who the hell saw THAT coming??!!

A Brit infestation and a Norwegian Girl

2007-08-23T03:26:00.001-07:00

It was funny saying goodbye to St Louis. I'd spent 8 days there, the longest I've spent in any one place while travelling till this point and the place had grown on me. I was sorry to have to say goodbye to the place and its people and had that strange feeling of leaving somewhere you know and headed again for the unknown.

My first flight in the US was a funny one, a plane taking no more than about 60 people, you could feel every movement and every turn in your stomach, something I've never had before. Fortunately it was only an hours flight to Nashville.

The hostel itself was pretty laid back, no one was there to check me in so a Scottish lass who was staying there and was at college for a while In Nashville showed me to my dorm. The place is pretty small and the only hostel in Nashville. One thing struck me immediately - It was full of Brits! They've never known it like it apparently but somewhere in the region of three quarters of the hostel population was British! I met a couple of English guys who had been road tripping together through the US and one, Lewis, was following a similar rtw path to me. They all seemed like a decent bunch and we agreed to meet up later and go out.

Later a bunch of us got chatting outside the hostel and we all ended up piling into 3 cabs and going downtown to some bars. My first taste of the Nashville nightlife was bizarre. We hit up 3 or 4 bars that night, country music filled the places we entered. Not knowing much about it at all I just went with it.

As the evening progressed I watched a rather entertaining moment unfold. One of the English guys had latched on to a rather stunning looking Norwegian girl. Now she'd been drinking most of the afternoon and evening and wasn't in too good shape. Still she knew what she wanted - The most expensive drink on the menu and yep, the English guy was going to pay for it. back at the table she proceeded to lose her balance and knock the drink flying all oer herself and a couple of others. Nice work! Even nicer was the way she proceeded to blame a couple from Leicester (Jon and Jo) for her work. They, of course, had done nothing wrong yet still made an apology. She wouldn't hear of this, called her a bitch and went off in a huff. Seriously I wouldn't want to be with someone so stuck up themselves like that, no matter how beautiful they are!

I returned to the hostel with Jon and Jo and was almost delighted to hear stories of the Norwegian lass puking her guts up, leaving the English guy to wonder what on earth went wrong! Can you say "just desserts?".

Beer, Baseball and Bowling!

2007-08-22T02:52:00.000-07:00

The three Bs make up the final chapter in the St Louis adventures. A game at Busch and the Gateway Arch may be what defines St Louis but there are certainly a few other little things to keep you entertained.

First to 2 of the three Bs, baseball and bowling. Not two things you would think go hand in hand, yet here in St Louis they sit side by side like a couple by a fireplace in the heart of winter. Let me introduce the ST Louis Cardinals Hall of Fame, also housing (and free as part of your ticket, the National Bowling Hall of Fame. Who knew the two were so closely linked!

The Cardinals HOF was, of course, my main main reason for visiting. Housing Cardinals historic memorabilia from past to present. Artifacts from the likes of Stan "The Man" Musial, Lou Brock and Bob Gibson and one of the modern day gems, the car given to Mark McGwire for hitting his record breaking 70th Home Run in 1998. One of the things about getting into baseball is learning how highly the history of the game and its players are thought of. The great players from the past enshrined not only here but in Cooperstown, New York in the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Somewhere I didn't get to visit on this trip but hope one day to make it to. Its something we just don't get in England.

A chance to view a replica World Series trophy, to take in game worn shirts and balls used in historic moments throughout the franchises history made a captivating day for me. It may not be every persons idea of an interesting day out but for me it was a perfect accompaniment to a few games at Busch.

Once done with the Cardinals HOF it leads you straight onto the Bowling HOF, something I know very little about but was able to take in and learn a little of the history of the game and whilst I may not have known who the hell any of those enshrined it made for an interesting half hour or so before hitting the lanes themselves to throw a complimentary few frames. I'd gone with Claire in the days she was around and we'd decided to stick about and have a couple of games, made all the better for the ludicrously cheap prices they charged! Undoubtedly a fun day out!

So it all finishes here on the subject of St Louis' other treasure. The beer. Here lies the home of Anheuser Busch, brewers of Americas favourite, Budweiser. The home of Bud lies just a 10 minute walk from the hostel and there was no way I could come her and not visit. So on my last full day in the home of the Red Birds I took the free tour of the brewery. The grounds are quite simply huge. Almost a mini City within the City.

The tour takes you around the various processes and plants, with a Chance to see the famous Clydesdale horses and, of course, to sample the wares at the end of the tour. I certainly wasn't aware of the huge variety of beers the place makes. Its Budweiser that is king of course but its certainly not all they make! I got to sample a fabulous Bock whilst there and am disappointed not to have seen it anywhere since!

It may not have the glamour of the Guinness tour in Dublin but you do actually get to see far more of the plant than its Irish counterpart. Given its free nature its more than worth the effort.

I also had the chance to sample another local beer "Boulevard". A tasty Wheat beer from the Kansas City region. Budweiser may be the king of beers but I was already understanding what the real joy of beer drinking was in the US! There is so much more to it than is portrayed back at home. We think of American beer, we think of Bud or Miller and such likes, what we fail t understand is just how big a part the micro breweries play in the beer market here in the US. I for one am delighted to be finding out! More beer and Whiskey or two may well be on the way as Tennessee approaches!

The Locals

2007-08-16T08:01:00.000-07:00

One of the greatest parts of travelling is meeting people. One of the single biggest fears of many who are thinking of going off on travel adventures alone is what will happen if they don't meet anyone. Anyone whose done a bit of travelling or stayed in hostels will tell you that you're biggest worry will not be meeting people but how you manage to get some alone time. Simply put, you WILL meet people. All sorts of them. Generally over the course of a any trip, particularly one as long as this, you'll wind up meeting the good, the bad and the ugly.

Meeting fellow travellers is one thing, meeting locals is another and can be as educational or as fun as any City, beach or other tourist attraction on the map. It can make or break a place for you. I'd been lucky so far with the locals I'd met up till this point and here in St Louis my good luck would continue to run.

Its generally not something you can go looking for but rather something that happens by chance. I guess before I'd left home I had imagined how great it would be to get chatting with some fellow Cardinal nuts at or before a game and whilst I'd enjoyed the experience of my first time in Busch stadium I hadn't really spoken to too many fellow fans. Game 2 and that all changed.

Sat watching the game I was next to a young couple, maybe my age or a couple of years younger. They seemed like the sort of people you could get chatting to and a couple of pointless comments got us going. I had met Adam and Erin, St Louisians and Cardinals fans. For me it was just great to be able to talk baseball, Cardinals baseball, with people that actually gave a damn and were fascinated that I'd come all this way to watch them play. Later on in proceedings they had decided to go and join some friends sat along the 3rd base line - The other side of the stadium to where we were residing at that time and asked me if I'd like to join them. I wound up meeting a great bunch of people. Adam and Erin offered me a lift home after the game and on dropping me as promised said a big thankyou to me! "Thanks for showing us something we sisnt know about our own City!". Apparently they weren't aware that St Louis had a hostel.

The following morning I received what I still believe to be the loveliest, kindest email I've ever had, thanking me for last night. No guys, it really is YOU I should thank for being the best advertisement for St Louis and Americans in general that you could wish to have! From the bottom of my heart I thank you both so much for your kindness.

Soppy stuff aside now, the good people of St Louis didn't stop there. Sat in McGurks one afternoon/evening I got chatting to a local couple also sat at the bar. Its so true what they say about St Louis being a true baseball City. These guys were on top of it all with the lady working for one of the Minors Independent League teams. They were overly generous in buying me a few beers, again, something hugely appreciated and a gesture from the heart.

St Louis was also the place where I had the chance to meet up with Emily (another Booty). Her and her friend were the ones kind enough to drive me round and get me to Ted Drewes and trying the Toasted Ravioli. The two of us arranged to meet up a 2nd time before I left.

Now, you may remember the Gateway Arch saga. The rain preventing me from ever getting down to see the thing. Well I did in the end. Claire and I managed to get down there, the weather managed to stay fine and I finally got up close and personal with St Louis' most famous landmark. It was well worth the wait. Its certainly impressive to see it towering over the City but walking round it I finally had a sense of the scale of the thing and in some ways, its simplistic beauty.

What we hadn't down however was go up inside the arch to the observation deck. With that in mind, Emily, a life long St Lousian who had managed to go her life without going up in it either, and I made this our day out together.

Its quite a strange thing really. To look at the arch you wonder how on earth anything can go up inside it. One you get inside your cramped compartment you understand why its not particularly obvious. Each "pod" is designed to take 4 people. If it was just for 2 people you'd call it tight! We ended up almost sitting in each others laps on the short ride to the top.

The viewing platform itself is a strange experience. You're on top of the arch of course and either side of the corridor is bending back down towards earth giving you the sensation that nothing at all is straight! St Louis may not have the most stunning skyline but the views from the top are worth it with the aerials of Busch Stadium almost sending shivers down my spine!

It was nice to be able to share the experience with a local as well and to get her doing something in her own City she had never done. Once again, the hospitality shown towards me was unforgettable. My impression of the City was set by some of the most amazing people you'd ever wish to encounter.

Not everyone is the same of course and everywhere there will be good and bad. There's funny as well. Like the guy who wanted to ask me something like "Where have you been?" He managed "So where y'all been?" which seemed far too Texan, "Where you all have been?" (less Texan yet more confusing) and, what I believe was the closet he got "Where all have you been?" It may sound funny, and really it was, but its just a small glimpse into how different the English language can actually be from place to place. An honorary mention should also go to the guy who on seeing my English cricket shirt asked if I was from Wales - Oh well!

Living My Dream!

2007-07-31T05:22:00.000-07:00

Coming to St Louis had always been about the baseball. This was why I was here, to see my Cardinals play, at home! In the many years that this trip had been in the pipeline, the dream had always been the same. To come here, to Busch Stadium, and take in a game. I first got into baseball around 2000 and had missed out on the McGwire/Sosa home run season in 1998. I hadn't even been aware that this had happened till quite a while into my baseball watching.

The Cardinals had got to me by accident. The first two games I ever saw both involved them. I knew nothing about baseball at all but it had really caught my interest and wanted to find out more. To do that I needed a team, I chose the Cards purely on that basis. The months that followed saw me start learning the rules and what all the abbreviations meant. I listened to games via the Internet from a local station and caught the two games a week shown very late on Channel 5. This was my initiation.

Listening to those games, and later watching them on MLB TV, I always got a sense of what it meant to be Cardinals fan. To be regarded as some of the best fans in baseball, to be a baseball City! I had images in my mind about the stadium and its surrounds, about having a beer in a bar with other Cards fans before a game, listening to them chat about the players and team the same way I do about my football club back home. I wanted to be there, be part of it, experience it all for myself.

I was doing that now, finally. I had purchased tickets to three games prior to leaving home. I'm not a big fan of having such firm dates where I have to be somewhere but there was no way I was coming here and missing out! The first of the three games was against the Cardinals biggest rivals. The Chicago Cubs were in town and not only was I getting to see a Cardinals game. This was a famed Cubs v Cards match.

The game would also give my first chance to see St Louis' most famous current star, Albert Pujols. In a way Pujols' story has been so much fun to watch. Him coming up to the majors around the same time I got into being a Cardinals fan. So as one legend (in Mark McGwire) was finishing his career in St Louis, another star was there to begin his. Pujols is essentially the man who has shaped the sport for me. My worst fear before I left home was that he would be injured when I was in town, or taken out of the team for a rest at the games I was at but nope, he was in the team, ready to belt some more home runs to add to his record breaking tally (he was on course to break the single season home run record at this point).

I arrived early to the game. I wanted time to soak it all up, to take in the stadium, the atmosphere, to look around and to capture it all! I got to see more of the stadium than I had actually planned by walking in through the entrance at the opposite end to where my ticket was. I was able to stop off near the field itself to take a look and some photos of the two teams practising before heading on to find my seat. I travelled up escalator after escalator each time feeling the field get further and further away, wondering just how high up me "good seats" were. When I finally reached the right section I found myself about two thirds of the way up along the first base line. I felt slightly disappointed in these being $40 tickets. For the same price at Wrigley I was in the Field box behind home plate.

I may have been a tad disappointed with how much these seats were but it certainly gave a good overview of the field and the stadium as a whole. I wanted to take in these moments and could feel the atmosphere build as the ground filled to become a sea of red. This was what I had wanted!! I sense of achievement passed through me. This was after all one of those things that had been just a dream a few years back and was now a reality!

My joy was short lived however when whilst fielding at first, after just 1 at bat, Albert Pujols was withdrawn from the game with an injury. I couldn't believe it. I'd travelled all this way, done all this planning and I'd seen him have one at bat. It wasn't a home run or even a hit. The man struck out! For a guy with more homers than strikeouts this was a rarity. That was it for Albert. He wouldn't be back in the other games I was here to see, but I'm probably the only person on the planet who can say he's seen Pujols strikeout every time he's seen him have an at bat! You have to look on the bright side of it all somehow!

My dreams of watching him belt a home run now shattered I would have to accept it and cheer on the rest of the Redbirds. It is, after all, a team game and there's more than one man on this team! Unfortunately they couldn't pull it together for themselves or me and lost the game.

The Cardinals would go on to lose all three of the games I went to see. I'm still yet to see them win a game live in my 4 attempts. I'm guessing if people knew that was my record, they'd be advising me to keep away from Cardinals game for the sake of the team!

That they lost all three was hugely disappointing. That I saw Albert Pujols have just one at bat was far from the perfect scenario. Despite those two key things I still had an incredible time and the memories from the three days at Busch Stadium will always stay with me. Maybe next time Mr Pujols will knock in a grand slam or 2 to make up for it. Well, you can always dream!

Grubs Up! St Louis Style!

2007-07-30T06:48:00.000-07:00

One of the many joys or travelling is being able to sample food form all over the World. I couldn't wait to get my mouth around tasty Thai grub, and sample the steak in Argentina. The States too had a world of food available for me to munch through!

I always remember my first time in New York, I just wanted to take some time to walk around a supermarket. Not to buy anything, but just to see what was available. Take a look at some of the junk you hear so much about. Some of my friends think its a little strange (and I might almost agree with them) but I love just walking around food stores and markets abroad checking out some of the local delights.

Whats better than looking is eating though and I was getting my chance all over the place already. You only have to take one look at the photo of my brunch in Chicago to know what that was like, but pizza in New York and, well, more pizza in Chicago. Two legends in the pizza making business. Now here I was in St Louis, where more food awaited me!

Whilst the aforementioned places are world famous for their slices of pizzas, St Louis is not. However it does have its unique brand. Unlike its Chicago counterpart St Louis pizza is thin and I mean super thin! Packed to the brim with toppings (I'm still yet to understand the New York one topping pizzas that seem to have been adopted by Pizza delivery companies throughout the country) and incredible tasty! Its certainly my preference out of the three cities pizzas.

I'd managed to meet up with a friend of mine who lives out here and talking to her before I left she mentioned two things I MUST try while I'm in town. Toasted Ravioli and Ted Drewes. The night we met up I got to sample both!

Toasted Ravs as the locals seem to call them is a St Louis speciality. Basically Ravioli breaded and deep fried and often (as ours was) served with a maranara style sauce. Its considered an appetiser so when we went into the restaurant and ordered two lots of Toasted ravs we were looked upon with scorn. No that was it, that's all we wanted. It appeared we were taking up valuable table room and with our minimal order. Still, it wasn't going to stop me sampling these delights. They looked like a heart attack waiting to happen and tasted like one but certainly weren't horrible. I'm not sure I'd order them again but sampling these things is a part of the trip for me and one i thoroughly enjoy!

If Toasted Ravioli is a local tradition then Ted Drewes is a local institution. Its Ice Cream, but not just any ice cream. Possibly the best ice cream anywhere in the world!!! A custard based concoction that is sold strictly just in St Louis. You can find a few pots of the stuff in the local grocery stores but the real deal is to be had from one of, what I believe are just 2 Ted Drewes counters. The one we visited was well out Downtown (as I believe the other is) and really only accessible by car (thankfully Emily had hers and was able to drive us around). Its a bizarre location for such a place. Something virtually every St Lousian knows about is so far detached from a town centre. Was it worth it? Hell yeah! If it wasn't ice cream I'd have filled my bag full of the stuff!

Travelling is about so many things to me and its a thrill to be able to sample local goodies wherever I am. Its something that just makes this trip even more of a thrill than it already is. So if anyone ever asks you what there is to do in St Louis apart from watch baseball and see the arch, you can tell them to eat the food! Its well worth it!

Rain!

2007-07-20T06:37:00.000-07:00

The weather is a funny little bugger. It seems strange that something so unrelated to you, something so detached from what you are doing can have such a huge impact on how you feel about a place and what you end up doing.

Its summer, really it is. Summer in the Midwest. It should be 90 degrees or more already, yet in St Louis, it rains and just when you think its stopped raining.... It rains some more. Not quite what I had expected here!

I'd managed to get chatting to a lass from Bristol who was also staying at the hostel after I arrived back from the pub the first day and we had decided to head into town together in the morning. Our first port of call had been the library for a bit of free internetting. Unfortunately no one, not even the people on the desk as we spent 10 minutes register ring, told us that we needed to book our session. Somewhat annoyed we headed out of the library. As we were doing so someone called us back "If you wait till quarter past and someone doesn't show up you can get on the machine for 45 minutes". Apparently it happens all the time. We waited it out and sure enough we were on.

Claire and I then headed down towards Busch Stadium. I would get my first glimpses of the Cardinals new home, having moved into their new stadium (built half on the grounds of the old one) just this year. It was certainly impressive just to walk around the outside of it. A feeling of really having arrived sunk into me. I was here, I'd made it. Number 2 on the must see list was here right in front of me. I almost couldn't get enough of it. I couldn't wait to get inside and watch a game, although I knew I'd have to wait it out.

We had planned to go over to have a look at the Arch afterwards but the skies darkened and we knew immediately what was about to follow. The rains came, and we went and did our laundry. How I love the rain. Still, when you're away for any length of time, washing your clothes becomes a necessary part of your travel.

The following day our plans to head to the arch were scuppered once again by the rain, it came with avengence, this time, no laundry to do we decided to take up a recommendation and visit the City Museum.

Expecting to find all manner of St Lousian artifacts and info we were both somewhat stunned to find it basically a kids playground. Shell shocked but in need of the dry indoors we settled on having a coffee.

The rain went away, we headed on down to the Arch via Wallgreens where I picked up my much needed pair of flip flops and as we headed off from there, yep, the rains came again. Now rather pissed off with the weather, the Arch seeming to tell us it really didn't want our company, we grabbed a cab and went back to the hostel!

Arriving in Baseball City!

2007-07-13T07:10:00.000-07:00

From the very first days of planning this trip, there had been two dots firmly on the map. Two places I must go to, must see. Two places that were almost what drove me on the North American part of this trip in the first place! One of those was New York. Since being there in 2003 I had longed to go back and knew whatever else happened that it was going to be the first place on this trip that I visited. The other, was St. Louis. Home of the St Louis Cardinals. Home of the Redbirds, the new Busch Stadium and home of Albert Pujols, Cardinals slugger and St Louis legend.

So as I left Chicago on the Megabus I knew that the next time I got off this it would land me at the home of my beloved baseball team. The feeling of anticipation was as intense as the day I left home. As the City approached I caught my first glimpse of the Gateway Arch, the landmark most synonymous with St Louis. The place where East meets West, you cant help but notice how imposing it is, how dominant of its surroundings it is. Its the symbol that I've arrived, that I've found my way to the City where baseball is king!

The first thing that struck me as I disembarked the bus at Union Station was just how much red could be seen. Now, I know St Louis is a baseball City, it loves its team and it bleeds red but the sheer numbers of people in red or some sort of Cardinals attire was astonishing!!

My attempts at finding the correct bus or any other form of transportation to my hostel failed and getting more frustrated by the minute I succumbed to paying for a cab to get me there.

The hostel here in St Louis deserves a story all to itself. As I pulled up in the cab it looked alright. I mean it was obviously a bit out of town but it looked ok. As I arrived though, everything started to change. No one was in when I got there and the owner was obviously put out by my mere presence there. I was a hassle he didnt want to deal with. After waiting over an hour and a half he finally showed up still mumbling things about me being there at the wrong time, he did eventually let me into my room.

The bed itself was ok, although the place was full of newspapers, more on that later. The bathroom though was dire! A swing gate to let you in and showers where the walls were black and the floor somehow even less pleasant. There was no way I was having a shower without a pair of flip flops on and even then you just didn't want to touch anything.

Unbelievably this place used to be an HI Hostel however it lost its affiliation due to lapses in standards. According o Rebecca, a sort of co -runnner of the place (she was the opposite of the owner - Kind, polite and chatty), the place had actually improved a hell of a lot in the last 6 months or so. When she came to help out the place was a mess, smelly, overrun by cockroaches and needed a complete overhaul. It needed her to do it, the owner just wouldn't do anything about it! I'm just glad she's been around a bit before I got there otherwise God Knows what I would have though of it!!!

Another part of my St Louis initiation was to get "the talk". St Louis is, according to a recent poll, the 4th most dangerous City in the US. That really shouldn't be taken lightly. So, I get my map from our friendly fun filled owner who proceeds to grab a pen, and circle half the places on the map..then put big crosses though it. "don't go here" he said. Wow, I feel so much better now I thought. Unfortunately one of those big circles with a big cross in it was between the hostel and Downtown. Apparently its wise to take the bus, especially at night! Bus it would be then.

An evening in the pub would help settle me! It did!! I found a cool Irish Pub near the hosetl and settled in a for a few drinks and to catch up with some writing. It was as Irish as they get, ell cheesy foreign Irish anyway. A constant stream of pretty dreadful Irish music was eventually replaced by a live band playing, yep, you guessed it, Irish music. Unfortunately there was no one there. The Cardinals were at home, and those that were in there seemed more interested in watching the baseball than the music (rightly so of course). So I was one of about 8 people no listening to this music with more than one eye on the TV screen. Still, it was an excuse to have a couple of Buds, St Louis' other claim to fame!

Doing the Tourist Thing

2007-07-06T07:21:00.000-07:00

I awoke feeling like Chicago was now my friend. Fired up and ready to get out and see the John Hancock I was, without doubt, in the best mood I'd been in over the last week.

I'd be going alone, I knew that. Its not the greatest way to see the building but when you travel alone, you have to do these things and I have no problem with it. On days like this it can be pretty nice as well, just taking the day at your own pace, doing what you want to do and not having to answer to anyone. Ahh, this was the life!

I was utilising the information I'd been given in the pub a few days before and decided to try it out, head up to the 96th floor and the bar instead of the 94th observatory. As you approach the Tower itself it imposes itself on you, dominating you and everything surrounding it. You don't realise just how impressive it is (and its twin tv antenna brother - The Sears Tower) until you get withing a few feet of it. Soaring up into the sky it seems to go on forever!

Upon entering I asked rather tentatively about getting up to the bar. I was pointed to the elevator, avoiding the people paying to get up to the top and on my way. It was all a bit strange, I had the feeling that I wasn't meant to be here, that I was in the wrong place but I found my way to the bar and sat down to enjoy a beer and the views!

So sure, the beer was $8 but that's still cheaper than paying, you're two floors higher and the views, oh my God! Those views! It sums up the diversity of this City so well - The heavily built up Downtown, the low level area out west and the lake front area with its great looking beaches. The views make it without doubt worth the effort to come here!

Beer drunk and enough photos to fill an album taken, I was done and headed out to another popular tourist site, Navy Pier. My sense of direction being simply stunning, I ended up at a pier but not THE pier. It seems i was a little North of where I wanted to be, still there were some cool views of the City and a little, I mean, really little beach. realising my mistake I moved onwards and eventually stumbled upon my initial target.

I can certainly see why Navy Pier is such a draw. There's plenty to keep you entertained here, lake trips galore, however the place is really aimed at kids. It was fun to have a walk around but I wasn't really for me. I can really see the attraction for families though. With the skies looking rather threatening now, I decided it was time to get myself back to the hostel, doing so with just seconds to spare before the skies let loose!

I met up with Nikki again back at the hostel. We had planned to grab some food together but plans had been scuppered by her forgetful mind and 3 German guys who she was now cooking with. Later on the Germans asked us if we wanted to go out with them, I'd have liked to but for catching my bus to St Louis early tomorrow morning and with the time already gone 11pm I knew it was going to be a late one. Nikki agreed to go and then changed her mind. SO instead the two of us hung around in our usual manner outside the front of the hostel.

A few people came and went and we were soon joined by a New Yorker who managed somehow to change our fun conversations about Home and Away and Neighbours onto politics and ethics. It was more tahn either of us could really stomach and when his response to one our questions was "look it up on Wikipedia" We both wanted rid! Fortunately a severe lack of cigs meant we had to head out on a ciggy hunt. Our good luck turned to bad when we everywhere we tried was closed, even the 24 hour shop! Eventually, after some 40 minutes or so we were pointed to a gloriously open shop right by Loyola Metro Station. By the time we had returned, the strange New Yorker had gone inside and was playing chess leaving us in peace. Our luck was out though as he returned to join us - Oh what joy!

By 2am we'd both had enough of both him and staying awake. I retired to my bed here in Chicago for the final time. My plans for sleep ruined by one of the loudest snorers currently on this planet. If he continues to snore in dorms like this he wont be on this planet for too much longer!!!

The Record Breaking Day

2007-07-05T04:55:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been in that situation where you're talking to a complete stranger, totally out of context and all they have to say is a few words before you know almost exactly where they're from? I'm not talking about oh, you're from England/Oz etc, I mean, you can tell down to about a 5 mile radius where they're from! Well, it happened to me in good old Chicago.

I'd returned from my day out with Jen and wound up sitting outside with a few beers bought round the corner store, and now being consumed in manner not dissimilar to a bunch of 16 year olds having a sneaky White Lightning hoping the wont get caught. The strict no drinking on the premises rule was being broken left right and centre generally speaking because people had just had enough and needed to do what travellers do...sit and chat crap over a beer or 5. It was the first time that being at the hostel (a subject of continuous groans throughout the evening) had actually sparked into something resembling life.

Outside then, one of the girls had said barely 3 words when a smile cracked over my mug. Clearly English, I knew, almost instantly where she was from...I spoke a few words back and a smile cracked on her face...we exchanged the usuals...She was from Edgware, a place a couple of miles up the road from my old abode in London. Apparently I was the first north Londoner she'd met on her trip (and she'd been in the US for 11 months studying and traveling!).

The night finally ended for me at around 2.30am after what had been a great finale to an awesome day. Maybe I was finally starting to get Chicago.

The morning brought breakfast with Nikki (the lovely London girl from last night) and we shot off around the corner, near the El station to get a bite to eat. The sun was already beating down on us and I could see my plans for the day being somewhat effected by the intense heat. Although we'd agreed to meet up today we both had very different things planned for the day, however when it was suggested that it might be a good day to go to the beach by one of the waiters we took one look at each other and knew exactly what we'd be doing that day!

Just 5 blocks away from our current location lay the lovely sandy beach we'd been looking for. Strange to think that if it hadn't been so hot I could have been here and not even known how close I was to this! Fortunately the record breaking 93 degree sun took care of that!

Today life slowed right down, a welcome break just at the right time. We at in the shade, soaking up the atmosphere, chatting away, stories about our trips, our homes and just general rubbish that makes the day drift along. She was off to see her boyfriend and meet the parents in Boston, feelings of dread welling up inside of her, knowing that they just wouldn't see eye to eye. He a middle class rebel related to John Quincy Adams and her, the rebellious Londoner were to meet the completely non rebellious, blissfully unaware upper class parents. Its one of those stories you really want to know how it ends.

Amidst the chatting and general laziness I managed to fulfil a little dream - To play footy on the beach! OK, so its not on the beach in Brazil but it'll do. We saw a kid, Mexican looking, kicking a ball about a bit by himself and Nikki suggested I go and ask him if he wanted a kick about. Sure enough I got up off my ass and went and asked him, next thing you know we're having a kick about! A perfect little moment!

We also managed to glimpse what we called "God on a bike", as we saw a man cycle past us. We didnt have our cameras at teh ready, fortunately I was well prepared as he came back past us!

Al sunned out for the day we decided to hit up a bar and grab some food. We'd found the place we wanted to eat at and when we came in were asked if we'd like to sit on the terrace. Sounded absolutely lovely, so without further ado we agreed and were taken outside. That's when we saw it. A shambles of an outside area that didn't look like it had been used in months! A few plastic seats dotted amidst the various bugs scattering the floor. Being Brits though we braved it and despite the conditions enjoyed a pretty good meal!

By the time we were due to meet up later, Nikki had caught a good dose of sun stroke and we decided to stay in (or just outside as it happened) rather than go out to a bar. Once again, we got chatting and the hostel seemed a much better place to be than it had just 48 hours ago!

Get in My Belly!!!

2007-07-04T05:11:00.000-07:00

One of those preconceived ideas that you have about the US is that they eat a lot of food...big portions are always served and its all about the big eat. Today, I uncovered the truth! Well, actually I didn't but I did get a glimpse of how it gets its reputation.

I'd met up with Jen as planned around midday, although her choice of location, in Addison, was probably not the wisest decision. Home of The Chicago Cubs and Wrigley Field, scene of yesterdays madness, we had chosen to meet just before game time, meaning I was clamouring to hold tight to a spot on the pavement hoping to be noticed amongst teh thousands of Cub fans now swamping me. I passed the guy selling the "Cardinals fans take it up the Pujols" T-shirts and a mixed smirk come growl could be seen across my mutt. Fortunately for me, as A Cardinals fan, I stood out handsomely above the blue dullness of Chicago's North Side and was located by Jen.

So we set about the main purpose of meeting at this hour...brunch. An American thing that has turned popular the world over it would seem, I was ready to tuck into a heart dish of fatty goodness. The cafe/bar/restaurant that didn't really know what it actually wanted to be was located right by the El, allowing you top soak up the sound of trains every few minutes as they rattled past. It was, in essence, a true slice of America!

If names are anything to go by I was feeling a mistake had been made. I'd looked at what was included in the meal, but not its name, realising afterwards that anything called "The Hog" is probably a substantial eating experience. I wasn't to be disappointed. What was delivered to me prompted "now that deserves a photo!", a comment only used on those special occasions where mere words cant do it justice! Let me attempt the description...3 eggs, 3 pieces of bacon, a decent chunk of ham, 2 sausages, 2 big pieces of french toast, 3 pancakes all on top of a mound of cheesy potato. Now, I like my food but this was one of those rare occasions when the food beat me. I failed in my attempt to devour the lot and my body, I believe has thanked me ever since!

To try and alleviate the strain now being put on my belt we took a walk out and around Lincoln Park and the free zoo. As zoos go its not the greatest but its free and a decent hours entertainment.

We put the fun on hold for a while as I was enlisted to help install a newly purchased air con unit in Jen's new apartment. Whilst she was purchasing the air con units I was trying to find some pain relief for my shoulder which had been killing me all day, unfortunately it seems you cant buy any decent medical cream here...the nearest thing to an ibuprofen cream was some hot and cold cream whose strongest ingredient was menthol!

I'm not exactly known for my DIY skills but between us we manged to get two of these units fixed up nicely and followed it up the best way, by going for a beer! I was lucky enough to be driven all over and a nice trip up Lake Shore Drive was certainly worth it. I'm glad I got to do this, I'm not entirely sure why, its just something that had me quietly pleased.

Keeping the food tradition of the day up, the early evening brought me a cake batter ice cream in close contact with each other. Something I never thought I'd eat, in fact never even knew existed but hey, when in Rome and all that...It was actually pretty darn good!

A Day At Wrigley!

2007-07-03T06:12:00.000-07:00

Speak to any baseball fan and they'll tell you that one of the great places to catch a game is at Wrigley Field, home of the Chicago Cubs (the enemy as far as a Cardinals fan is concerned). Its a place with a history and Wrigley attracts a certain kind of fan, those who just want a good day out and hence the atmosphere there is legendary! The place is talked about with a gleam in the eye or a desire to one day get the chance to do what I was now doing...enter the gates and go catch a Cubs home game.

The day certainly hadn't gone to plan, at least to begin with. I'd planned to go to the game with Cindy and she'd decided to take far longer than was actualy needed at the Internet cafe, meaning we were much later than I'd wanted to be turning up. It was Memorial Day Weekend so it was always going to be busy what we hadn't expected was to be told that there were only restricted view tickets left. As we pondered our misfortune we were called back to the girl at the box office who told us that 2 tickets behind home plate had just come available and did we want them. They were $40 a pop and that was quite a lot more than I had planned to spend but these opportunities come up so rarely and I was here to catch some baseball so, I stumped up may cash and was in.

The tickets were even better than expected! How we had come to get these seats will always be a mystery but here I was sat behind home plate, just a few rows back from the pitch, right in the heart of the action! The guy next to us had brought his kid up from Indiana to catch the game. Its strange how we think that travelling 5 or 6 hours to a game (an away game at that) at home is a great distance whereas some of these guys travel that far just to watch their home side!

Cindy had turned from friendly girl at the hostel to Miss irritating. Constantly leaning over me, grabbing my arm, and jolting me every few seconds was becoming unbearable. It was nice to have the company but I honestly wished I'd come on my own! Fortunately I had to leave a little early and didnt get to see the last inning. As I left the Cubs were on top and looking likely to pick up the win.

I've never liked leaving before the end of any game let alone a one off such as this but I was due to meet Francesca, another Boots girl down in Little Italy for a few drinks and was already a little late. Getting a tad lost as I exited the subway didn't help either. I had a voicemail with all the directions I could ever need, unfortunately I couldn't access it! In the end luck struck and I found the place.

After spending 30 seconds looking nervously around me I was waved over to a rather large group of people. As it turned out, she had brought along her Sister, Sister's friends and brother along, and we were joined shortly afterwards by her parents. They were another great bunch and Francesca was as friendly as any Bootie I'd met so far. We had a few drinks at the bar (I got chucked a free Stella seemingly for being English) at the end of the evening. The Cubs meanwhile had managed to lose the game in the 9th!

From the pub we headed to Francesca's Sister's friend, Jen's house for a few more beers with Francesca leaving shortly afterwards and me remaining with the other girls. We didn't actually stay that much longer ourselves and I was driven back to Roosevelt Station by Angela, a girl who seemed down on her luck but with ah heart of gold. Its a shame I wont get to see any of them again - Accept Jen who agreed to meet me for brunch the following day.

Back at the hostel, who should I bump into but the 2 guys from the train journey from Boston to here. They had been upto Niagara and now buy chance were at the same hostel! Funny how it goes sometimes!

LSD and the Bar Guy

2007-07-03T04:55:00.000-07:00

Me and Chicago hadn't really seen eye to eye at first. The location of the hostel, the lack of people I'd met and the general ambiance of the place had done nothing to help its cause. Maybe I was never meant to dislike Chicago because over the next few days things really started to change, led as it was by a guy in a bar downtown.

I'd got chatting the previous evening to a Taiwanese lass in the hostel and we'd agreed to meet up the next day to go see a few things. We ended up grabbing some lunch and exploring the area on and around Lake Shore Drive taking the sun and rain in equal doses as they exchanged blows throughout the afternoon. Sat on the edge of Lake Michigan, Chicago was suddenly starting to have a pull over me. Despite the mixed bag of weather, this was actually pretty nice. I guess we didn't really have a plan to see anything as such, just took in what was around us and I liked what I saw.

We eventually decided to head off to a bar for a couple of drinks, unfortunately the bar we'd wanted to go in didn't have any seats, just as we were about to leave we were told two seats had just opened up by the bar. The guy sat next to us began chatting and on realising we were out of towners offered to buy us both a drink "s a welcome to Chicago" he told us. How could we refuse such an offer!

We had a good chat about my trip and where I was headed to and so on and gave me a few great pieces of advice, he was also the first person I'd meet who would tell me to eat the steak in Buenos Aires! I jotted things down, drew maps, told us that we should go see the John Hancock instead of the Sears Tower as you could go to the bar there for free and have a couple of drinks for the same price as it costs to get to the observation deck of either tower. That and you wouldn't have to brave the queues and video gumf at Sears! A handy man to have met! As he left he added another drink to his tab for us both and disappeared off. The famous words of Red Dwarf spring to mind..."What A guy...".

Art and about in Chicago

2007-07-02T04:25:00.000-07:00

Travelling on your own can be a strange experience. It has its good and bad points. Its highs and its lows. I knew when I took this on that there were going to be times when I wished i had company but I also knew that I could do this on my own and I had a wonderful time travelling Europe the same way. I wouldn't have left to do a year trip by myself if I didn't think I was capable.

Still, there will be lonely times. My first full day in Chicago was certainly the first time I'd experienced that on this trip. I put it down to a number of things. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, the hostel was so quiet. No life there at all and being so far out of town just compounds that. I haven't met anyone there at all and not through want of trying. It makes you realise how important a good hostel is to your enjoyment. How a sociable home can help make or break a place. The other real trigger for the loneliness thing was that I was back doing an art gallery. Sounds strange I'm sure, but the last time I had done a similar thing was to the Met in New York where i was accompanied by Pilvi. Having had such a blast with her while taking in the art, somehow it just didn't feel the same now and I longed to have a voice just chirping in my ear, sharing my thoughts on things.

Upto this point I'd found Chicago to be somewhat annoying, irritating and lonely. I didn't feel comfortable and there are without doubt more dropouts here than in New York and Boston combined! Lets take that irritating point. Now I had fun with the El yesterday and now here I was again going through the same motions. I dropped $1.75 onto my card, what I believed to be the correct amount only to be told it was $2. Now, nowhere in the entire station does it actually tell you how much a journey costs! It seems like they are actively seeking to make you as annoyed as possible.

So, the Art Institute. Despite the loneliness feeling I ventured through the museum made famous (in my eyes) by Ferris Bueller. I couldn't find the painting that Cameron ends up sinking into though. Still there were enough quality pieces to give your eyes a feast. I think I'm actually getting to grips with what a Monet, a Van Gogh and a Picasso look like. That's a real improvement for me believe it or not!

I managed to get off around a bit more of town as well, locating the Chicago Theatre amongst other things and generally just perusing the sights and sounds of the City as I wondered around on foot before eventually deciding to have a couple of afternoon pints in a bar Downtown. Watching the Cubs game and having a beer brought me back around a little and I was hopeful that the coming few days would improve.

Chicago - What the El?

2007-07-02T03:02:00.000-07:00

I have a habit of getting myself lost, panicking about it and ending up finding what I need to find and everything turning out just fine. So I wonder to myself...Why do I panic? There would appear, from a history standpoint that there isn't any need. I end up sorting it all out, not getting myself in any real bother and nothing too bad has ever happened before.

So here I was, just arrived in Chicago..and lost.

Perfectly typical of me. I figured I could follow a map and directions. I mean, surely it can be that hard I've done it before, I'd do it again but trying to figure out what road I was on, where the junction was, if I was heading up the road or down it and as a result wound up walking around in circles for 20 minutes or so before eventually locating Clinton Station.

I have no one to blame but myself for getting lost and having a small panic attack every time but now at the subway station (known locally as the "El" or just the "L" as large parts of it are elevated) I couldn't believe what I was being told. After staring at the various ticketing options for a while I decided a 5 day tourist pass was the way to go. The problem? You cant buy the subway pass at the subway. Now...is it just me or is that just plain absurd? I eventually settled for banging $2 into a machine that proceeded to spit out a ticket that managed to get me all the way upto Granville - Location of my rather out of town hostel!

Unfortunately the hostel was closed to guests when I arrived, however they must have seen my rather tired looking eyes and allowed me in to go to bed, I duly obliged and woke again sometime around 6pm..feeling a little more alive!

The reception at the hostel could certainly use some updating and some of the "rules" here seem a little out of whack. For starters they didn't seem to know who I was or what my reservation was. Their "system (and I use the term lightly) for sorting rooms out and reservations for that matter was on a piece of paper, no computer in sight. I had to pay a $20 deposit. For what I have no idea to this day. After all, I didn't even get a key. The doors to rooms don't lock apparently (jeez, that's encouraging) and to top it all off their Internet computers are ALL broken. It would appear that they have been that way for several months. One day, someone might actually fix them!

The hostel was pretty dead, not a lot of life here and they wont allow you to drink on the premises so, not feeling like venturing out I wound up just crashing so I could be ready for a full day tomorrow!

2 Seats on a Train!

2007-06-28T01:28:00.000-07:00

When I was planning my trip I made a conscious decision that I wanted to travel a lot of the US by train. I'd journeyed around Europe the same way and enjoyed the mode of transport. Being able to sit by the window and watch the world pass on by, taking in what was around and able to get up and stretch the legs or grab a bite to eat whenever the will took me. Amtrak, Americas rail network had already presented some problems in that its actually a pretty limited service. Basically, it doesn't actually go to that many places and the ones it does go to you might be quicker walking.

Still, there were a good few parts of the route that would allow me to travel by train. I'd ventured from New York to Boston quite comfortably and quickly and was now about to embark on the 2nd such trip. This time, the much longer stretch from Boston to Chicago.

I had worked out prices before hand, using the Amtrak website to gauge how much my transport costs were going to be. What I failed to take into account is that the ticket price doubles (or there abouts) if buying your ticket a day or 2 in advance. So here I was, some $150 lighter and thinking it would have been cheaper to fly!

The thing with buying a seat on the train, especially going overnight, is that you buy one and pray you get two. You watch as the seats fill up, hoping the doors will close before someone asks those magic words "Is this seat taken?" and plonks themselves (and often their oversized, overly sweaty body) down next to you.

With no direct train to Chicago, the first leg was to Albany, New York State's Capital. O n my way to the station I had bumped into, yep, you guessed it, the 3 Scots, only this time they weren't heading to Chicago but dd have the change at Albany as well. As we boarded though we got split up and I was on my own, travelling to Albany with 2 seats to myself!

I wasn't so fortunate for the 2nd part of my journey. Just as the doors closed, two figures emerged into my cabin and with just a couple of seats left one of them dropped down into my spare seat. Damn it! As it turned out though they were both from Preston and doing similar to me although their primary aim was to get to New Zealand to go snowboarding. They were stopping off in Buffalo to go see Niagara Falls (I had made the decision to skip it as I wanted to spend more time elsewhere and the train scheduling meant it would be nearly a 4 day affair to spend a day at the falls). Part of me ,of course, wished I had decided to do it but I feel you have to be content with what you do as the trip will be full of incidents like this.

We sat, chatted, shared a few beers together before they departed the train around midnight and I seized the opportunity to spread out and act asleep before actually falling asleep!

I awoke at 7.30am, just 30 minutes before arriving in Chicago!

Boston's Hidden Gems!

2007-06-20T07:06:00.000-07:00

The girls last night had wanted to try and get out to Cape Cod today but with weather the way it had been I was far from convinced about going. We met in the morning anyway and it had transpired that their plans had changed anyway and instead they were going to head down to the Prudential Tower to go up to the viewing platform.

Now, I had my Top 10 Boston guidebook, and NOWHERE did it mention any such thing! Actually I hadn't heard it even mentioned before today. So, my conclusion (mostly jokingly ) was that if it wasn't in my Top 10 Boston then it clearly wasn't worth doing. So, of course, I went.

It was kinda nice not to have a plan of action, to just follow on in behind. I'd already become so used to thinking my day through , planning what I wanted to do, it was nice to have someone else lead the way and just go with the flow. The three girls (yes, there was an extra one who'd gone missing last night), Deg and I got on really well and I know I had a great deal of fun spending the day with them all.

The trip to the top of the prudential tower was very much worth it! I'd recommend that the next edition of Top Ten Boston include this most excellent tourist attraction! The views from the top gave you a nice overview of the City, it would have been an ideal starting point to do on the first day but as it is, its nearly my last and I still think its really worth while. Some excellent views of Fenway from up the top too!

I ended up going back over some old ground as the girls wanted to see some of the Freedom Trail and Emelie, the Swedish girl, wanted to go to the Cheers Bar. The others had no idea what we were talking about which made for some bizarre conversations but they all seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Back to Quincy market to sample some of the food and we got a glorious chance to listen to the man we dubbed "Mr Quincy Market" to sing some old kids classics in a Johnny Cash stylee! If he'd had a CD it would be in my collection by now! At the market Anja said he goodbyes and we were down to just 4 or us.

SO the remaining four headed off in search of the Boston Tea Party boat that, we found, after walking around for what seemed like hours, wasn't where we thought it would be and with time ticking we had a mad rush back to the train station so the girls could catch their Chinatown bus back to New York. It was a shame to say goodbye, friendships had developed and I hoped I'd stay in touch with Emelie.

Down to just 2 now, time for beer!! The streets around the centre of town and the bars seemed overly busy, it seemed Tool were in town and tonight's gig had attracted a decent crowd! We decided to try a few side streets before we headed to a bar that seemed to have some live music and a decent noise going on. Did we ever pick the best bar!!!

The Littlest Bar is not only the coolest spot in town, its without doubt the smallest too! Its named for a very good reason it would seem! Inside there was barely room for 50 people and teh place was jammed, a guy (Scott Damguard) was playing in the corner and the crowd were roaring along with him! With him, he had a book of over 500 songs you could ask him to play, and the song selection suited the place just perfectly!

We ended up chatting to a couple of guys who were down on a boat, "The Cat" from Nova Scotia and and between us, the music and the beer, we had an absolutely brilliant time! Unfortunately our hostel being where it is we decided not to risk having to get an expensive cab home and departed rather earlier than we would have liked.

On our way home we thought we'd try and get a few beers to take back with us. After all it was only 9pm. It seems that in Boston, trying to buy beer on a Sunday afternoon or evening is nearly impossible. We ended up asking if there was anywhere open and were taken to this homeless black guy who claimed to know of a place that was open but it was a subway trip away. His girlfriend meanwhile was on the phone asking around. This all seemed rather strange to me. Maybe they were desperate for a drink a thought we'd buy them one, my thoughts turned a lot more suspicious than this and in the e end all we wanted to do was leave! We would have liked another beer for sure, but not THAT badly! We saw our opportunity and ran like hell!

Back at the hostel we settled down to watch to watch the ballgame and play some poker, straws and sugar sachets as chips (you make do with what you can get!), just about getting a pizza in before time as well. The evening drifted on and with a train to Chicago to catch in the morning I retired to bed.

I'd liked Boston, not perhaps as much as I thought I might, but I had liked it. I'd met some great people again, had great fun and a few good stories to tell. I wished I'd been able to stay closer to town but thats life and I wouldn't have met the people I had if I'd been elsewhere, so maybe it worked out for the best. New place, new people tomorrow and a nice 24hr train journey ahead!

NB: Since I was there I believe that The Littlest Bar has been knocked down and being replaced by some development. Its a shame others wont get to experience this wonderful place and I'm sure those locals will miss it even more than me. In honour of a place that will be badly missed,I'd like to dedicate this post to The Littleast Bar.

Th Green Monster and the Finns

2007-06-20T06:00:00.000-07:00

Back in England the Boston Red Sox are probably the 2nd most known (and supported) team in Major League Baseball, teh Yankees probably edge them out of the top spot. So today I got my chance to See the famous Fenway Park. Home of Boston's finest and, of course, of the famous Green Monster, the giant 37 foot wall in left field, famed for keeping some big hits going for home runs.

Unfortunately the BoSox weren't playing at home during my stay and the upcoming series against the Yankees had been a complete sell out weeks ago so no point sticking around waiting to see a game. Instead I ventured down under my own steam to go check the place out.

I had been hoping to take a tour of the stadium but after locating the stadium, no one seemed to be around and no tours seemed to be being sold. I had to settle for a mooch around the outside. The Green Monster certainly dominates the stadium, and you cant help but get the feeling that this really is the pride and joy of Boston, something in the air around the place, I'm not sure but there is something special about it.

I was disappointed that I didn't get to see more but satisfied that I had at least seen the place and taken a few quick piccies outside (including a nice little sign that seemed to amuse me for a while - "Beer Works", something I've often said!

My baseball fix catered for it was off to see more of Bostons attractions. A walk down Newbery Street was pleasant if uninspiring (thanks mainly to not being able to afford virtually anything on offer!).

A walk back through the common via the vastly overpriced swan boats was I guessed an essential part of Bostonia and, again, a nice enough walk to lead me back to the subway and ready for the lengthy trip back to the hostel.

Wondering what to do for the evening I happened to meet two Finns who had just moved into my dorm. I definitely took a shine to the girl I have to say but figured she was with the guy. Apparently not, as she was quick to point out later on when she accepted my invitation to go for a few drinks. Meanwhile I'd met a Geordie called Deg who was going to come along as well. The more the merrier as far as I was concerned!

There was, of course, only really one place to go, back to our restaurant/bar and we settled down to a few beers and I got the chance to have a good chat with Nea, who, it seemed was pretty impressed with my knowledge of their Ice Hockey team and that I could speak a couple of words of Finnish (thanks Pilvi!).

We wound up back at the hostel and her travelling companion, seemingly a tad drunk was challenging people to an arm wrestle. I guessed he liked her and was feeling somewhat jealous but it had the opposite effect of its intended one and soon he was in bed while the two of us were getting comfy in the common room.

Eventually we said our goodbyes, she was leaving in the morning, a shame but that's life on the road. People drift in and out of your life quick as can be, some you get on well with, others you dont, some you'll probably stay in touch with but whatever it is, its often a day or 2, maybe as long as a week and then its on to meet the new.

As the clocked started ticking well into the night I was still up and meeting new people already. Deg had met a couple of girls while I was with Nea and was now introducing me. I, apparently was married to one of them. A story created to get a creep who'd been pestering them off their backs. It seemed to work and in the mean time the 4 of us got on well enough to half arrange doing something the following day.

The Bootie, The Beer and The Bouncer

2007-06-12T01:47:00.000-07:00

Tracy arrived at the hostel around 7.45pm and we sped off into town taking a few scenic routes along the way. Some of the views of Boston were pretty impressive but unfortunately it wasn't possible to just stop in the middle of the road to take a photo! Still, I had my little guided tour before we pulled up (struggling to find somewhere to park) and walked to the bar she'd chosen.

Normally making a beer drinking decision is pretty easy, however this was not the case here. Sat at the bar, to my right I noticed a wall full of beer taps giving you the option of some 60 plus beers on tap and a further 100 or so by the bottle. I didn't even know where to begin. At home its normally a choice or 2 or 3 lagers or a selection of 2-3 ales and that's it. I honestly didn't have a clue so turned to Tracy and the barman for a little pointer.

I wound up with a pint of blueberry beer which I think sounds far worse than it actually tasted. Bot so much blueberry coloured or particularly strong in the fruity flavour department it was a lager with blueberries floating up and down inside it. Quite bizarre but actually pretty tasty.

Blueberry beer drinking experienced and food now eaten it was time to liven things up a bit. Tracy had a friend DJing at a club across the street so we agreed to go spend the rest of the night in there. Our plans however we scuppered by an annoying bouncer and some ludicrous Mass. State laws. I was denied entry to the club for not having correct ID. Now here in Massachusetts they will only accept an instate drivers licence or passport. Now, I'm not a lo9cal so that means its passport or nothing and be blowed if I'm carrying the single most important document I have around with me on a drunken night out!! I had many other forms of ID including my picture drivers licence but the bouncer who could clearly see I wasn't under 21 denied me entry even though he knew Tracy. Not saying its the bouncers fault but it was one of those moments that makes me think how idiotic some of the laws are in the US. They're so self centred its untrue! LIFE DOES EXIST OUTSIDE OF YOUR COUNTRY YOU KNOW!!

I could sense Tracy wasn't too happy but maybe that was half due to the amount of alcohol that she'd consumed through the night. I wont say how much, just that I thought it was somewhat excessive for someone who was driving! It seems the drink drive thing isn't played up in any where near the same manner as it home. Somehow here it seems accepted and part of life whereas back in the UK its something that is driven into you from a young age.

We decided to try our luck at another place out in Cambridge where Tracy new the bouncer and gave him a quick call to see if he would let us in. Unfortunately it wasn't him on the door when we got there and I fully expected to be rejected, at 28, from a bar for the 2nd time that night. However things went our way and my drivers licence was enough to secure ourselves a spot inside.

The club was typically cheesy with some songs you wouldn't even dare play at home now but the crowd here seemed to lap it up and Tracy not wanting to be outdone by Kathryn and Rachel and the babies bottle in New York had me up dancing on the tables! Brilliant fun!

Maybe in the end it worked out for the best. I was comfortable in a club like this, not too big, bit of cheesy music, some good indie tunes as well, good company, some nice beer and a whole lot of singing and dancing! Tracy dropped me back at the hostel which must have been a bit out of her way but was hugely appreciated and I knew the morning wouldn't exactly bring the earliest of starts!

Buying a Brolly in Boston!

2007-06-08T07:04:00.000-07:00

I'd been told whilst I was in New York that up Boston way they'd been experiencing some of the worst rains in years.. Was I worried about this? No, of course not! I mean, I'm English, we're used to the rain. This it seems was not ample preparation for what was about to hit me.

I'd arrived in the centre of town after navigating my way on the bus and subway before guessing my way from Haymarket station to where I ended up in Quincy Market. One of Boston's most famous landmarks was in reality, nothing more than a big food hall. Disappointed probably didn't cover it! Outside Quincy Market was where I first locked eyes on the red brick line of the Freedom Trail, marked out as route that takes in several of the important buildings around independence time. I was beginning to realise that without a map or guidebook of any description I had no idea which way to follow the red line or indeed what any of the buildings actually were! A quick stop in Borders fixed that, I had become the proud owner of the cheapest guide book in the world "Top 10 Boston".

So as I stepped out of Borders, guidebook in hand the skies just emptied! Within a few seconds I was soaked. Scrabbling to try and work out my best course of action I almost bumped into a man selling brollies. Now I'm not a bug umbrella fan, they're annoying, get in the way of others and always get ruined within about 5 minutes, still needs must so I shelled out the $5 an went on my merry way taking cover in Mass. State House.

After going through the various security checks I found myself alone and free to wonder. It was a strange feeling, there were so few tourists around, I bumped into more people that actually seemed to be working there that I had to question if I was really supposed to be here or in certain parts of the building. No one told me to leave so I continued walking and snapping until boredom and an urge to see if the rains had abated got the better of me.

The rain had abated enough for me to continue walking down Beacon Street to go grab a beer in the Original Cheers bar. Inside its completely different of course but I still had to stop off an enjoy a pint of Sam Adams (what else?!) before continuing on my way.

Rain had turned to sun as the afternoon crept on and the new beams of warmth had given me the desire to walk the freedom trail. Now with guidebook in hand, things were a lot easier. I'd found my way to the starting point and managed the first 8 of the 11 suggested places along the way. Not too bad I say, and I feel now far more educated in the Boston Tea Party and such like than I ever was before.

Culture done it was time for a good night out! Fortunately for me a friend who lives here in Boston had got hold of me in the afternoon, saying she'd come and pick me up at the hostel later. Brilliant, time to get back, shower and relax a little before the night ahead!

The "Local"

2007-06-07T03:11:00.001-07:00

The Prescott was a funny ol' hostel. Located way out of town in what appeared to be a quintessential slice of American suburbia know as Everett it was the oddest place to have a hostel. American hostels are unlike anywhere else I've been. They're few and far between, Major cities having just a splattering (for example, Boston and Chicago both have a grand total of 3 each), compared to somewhere like Barcelona where the choices number over 70 and unlike their European counterparts, tend to be well away from the action.

The hostel itself was actually pretty nice, decent bathroom, free Internet, a comfy TV area and so on but its poor location really let it down. The "5 minute bus journey" that we'd had to take from the station to the hostel had been more like 20 minutes and those buses would stop running at midnight making a proper night out on the town almost impossible.

After grabbing some pizza with the 3 Scots we went in search of a bar. The man running the hostel had told us there was a bar next door, "it looks like a church but just knock on the door and they'll let you in". Ok, seemed reasonable enough, right. Only problem, it WAS a church! We knocked and poked our head round the door only to find 4 old men sat round what looked like an old school dinner table drinking beer from cans. This, we decided, wasn't for us! It was like nothing I'd ever seen before, and something I really never wanted to see again!

Apparently Everett is rather lacking in the bar department. After walking around the streets, one end to the other for about 15 minutes we eventually came across a Chinese restaurant...with a bar attached! There were a few people scattered around the tables and some spare seats at the bar which we took up. A couple of beers later and they were already calling time, the bar eventually closing at the ungodly hour of 10.30pm. An early night was probably needed anyway!

Goodbye New York, Hello Boston!

2007-06-06T05:20:00.000-07:00

Leaving New York behind was in a sense leaving behind the last piece of familiarity. Now it was all uncharted territory for me. The adventure was about to get going for real.

My nervousness about missing my transport had kicked in as usual this morning and arriving at Penn Station I had over an hour to spare. This had been the moment I had dreamt of since departing New York back in 2003. I lost count of the number of times I would sit and think about just getting to the train station and going on somewhere else, anywhere else, just going, moving from place to place at my own free will. This was that moment. It felt as good as I'd always hoped it would be!

Maybe I was daydreaming about being here or maybe I just missed the announcement but in the end I made my train with just 4 minutes spare. Settled into a window seat, music plugged into my ears I was ready for the 4 or so hour trip to Beantown. The magic of New York just slaps you round the face as you leave, the skyline in all its glittering beauty! Its a sight that just reminds you what an incredible City New York is.

When I first came to New York I remember vividly the scene of seeing the City, seeing Manhattan for the first time as we were in the taxi from JFK to our hotel. I recall that moment in all its glory as I looked down upon a dazzling display of high rises, an immense City. The Big Apple.

Now here I was looking again, from a different angle, at the majesty of Manhattan. The sheer scale of it is something to behold. Once you're in it that feeling goes away. You're immersed within and cant gain the same perspective on it. I knew of course that New York is a one of a kind, that other places in the US are going to be different. Heck, it would be kind of dull if they were all the same, but still, it was a sad goodbye.

The journey upto Boston took us through Connecticut and Rhode Island before arriving in Massachusetts. The scenery along the way reminded me of Dawsons Creek. Little harbours, quaint towns set on the waterside. I wished I could have got out to see some of these places. I decided I'd love to drive up here and onto Maine one day but that would be a trip in itself!

Arriving in Boston I set about the arduous task of figuring out the Subway system. Should be easy you would think. I mean I lived in London for 6 years, I used the tube every day, how hard can it be? Lets just say that before you even Begin you have to figure out if you need a token or a paper ticket or both. They couldn't make it all the same could they!

Whilst I was busy at the machine trying to work it all out I bumped into non other than the Famous Scots. They, it seemed, had planned to go to Washington but couldn't find accommodation so instead were now in Boston. Where were they planning to stay? Oh yeah, the Prescott International Hostel, that'll be the same one as me then.

Only upon finding our way there did we realise just how far the place was away from town. I had originally planned on staying in the HI but they were fully booked so with a choice of just 2 other hostels left in Boston, that's why I was here. The place is a couple of subway lines and a bus journey away, only by chance did we actually get the right stop on the bus as well! That could have been a LOT worse as I would later find out!

Every Picture Tells A Story

2007-06-06T02:29:00.000-07:00

My time in New York was flying past, I was having a great time, met some top people and had already seen a decent amount of what I'd wanted. Following a lazy day, hiding from the miserable weather, it was time to have another go at a museum. My first experience hadn't been the greatest but now at least I was going to where I had originally planned - The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Known generally as the Met, its possibly the single biggest indoor attraction in New York!

I wouldn't be going alone this time either. A night spent down the Irish Bar around the corner from the hostel had found me chatting to a very beautiful Finnish girl called Pilvi. I might have had trouble pronouncing her name but it didn't stop us getting on well. Consequently we had arranged to meet in the morning to go visit the Met together. Good as her word she was there on time and we set about finding the place.

Located up on 82nd and 5th it was a good subway trip away but boy was it worth it! Unlike the MOMA its a recommended admission so we both payed the student price of $10 instead of the full $20. Its worth every last dime as well! The place reminded me a lot of the British Museum in London. An eclectic mix of art and history. Together we spent a good few hours wondering around taking in some priceless works of art, names familiar (Rembrandts, Van Goghs, Monets) and not.

As we continued around, becoming dazzled and somewhat dazed with the amazing collection a source of amusement was growing between the two of us in the form of the painting titles. Childish and immature humour was ruling the roost as we began trying to name the pictures. Strange you may be thinking, and you'd be right but when you see a picture of a woman with a basket and the pictures is called "Woman with basket" you'll get the idea of the game. Somehow I don't think the place would have been the same without the company I had though.

We wound up walking back to the hostel. Yes, you heard me right the first time, its on 82nd and 5th. Some 60 blocks from where we were staying. Still a walk down through Central Park and back through Times Square, stopping for a slice or 2 of fine New York Pizza along the way and we were back home ready for a well earned rest!

That evening I'd put aside for an early one. I had a train to catch to Boston in the morning and had been a busy man for the last few days. This IS New York though and no one is going to let you get away with things THAT easily. I ended up being almost forcibly dragged to the bar that night. It was late, I was tired and I was honestly having trouble keeping my eyes open. I stayed for the one drink, then bolted for bed as fast as I could!

The Sunburnt Cow

2007-06-05T07:45:00.000-07:00

A bar with no name. Its the sort of thing you see in the movies or read about in books but you never imagine yourself in one of these joints. It had actually happened to me once before in London, when one night crawling around Soho looking for a place to get a drink at 3am we were invited into a building that you would never imagine was a bar and would never be able to find again even if someone gave you a map! That night we wound up in a cool jazz club, tonight was different.

I'd met up with Kathryn and Rachel again as planned and shared a few drinks down in the East Village before they decided to take me on a little trip to Alphabet City. Once one of New York's most dangerous areas (and still is east of D according to the girls) the area has transformed itself into a trendy bar area, vibrant and full of odd characters, haunting and mesmerizing all at the same time.

We wound up at a bar somewhere around 9th and C, no name was apparent anywhere outside or in although it was hardly hidden in the depths. On our arrival we were greeted with a free shot, served rather bizarrely from a babies bottle. For a moment we all stood there in amazement, wondering if what we were seeing was indeed real. Rachel, getting a sneaky look on her face proceeded to call the barman over. "My friend here, he's from London and he needs a story for when he gets home, can he drink from the bottle?"

Moments later, unbelievably, the barman was filling up one of these bottles (we noticed several in the fridge) with whatever shot type mixture it was, proceeded to put a hole in the top and chucked it down the bar at me. How could I say no?!

It was cool to sit there, relaxing and chatting after a hard days sightseeing. I'd wanted to get to the Met but they were closed so I ended up at the Moma, any attempt to avoid the pouring rain really. New York's Museum of Modern Art is exactly what it says. If you don't like the ultra modern stuff then there really isn't a lot here for you. I think Van Goghs's "Starry Night" was about the only thing in there actually worth a mention. For the excessive $20 entrance I was more than just a little disappointed.

I'd gone on from there to catch up on another of those things I didn't get round to doing first time here; Strawberry Fields. I'd made a brief appearance at Central Park back in 2003 but hadn't delved into it at all. This time round I made sure to go for a good walk around, making the most of the drier state of affairs that the afternoon had become. At the Lennon memorial, the light strumming of a guitar coupled with the steady rustle of people coming up to pay their respects gave the place an ambiance kept for only a given few. I could have sat there all day, just drifting in an out of thought.

The busy day was now far behind as the beers rolled by one after another, interspersed with a blast on the babies bottle. During the course of the evening we had been noticing a rather Bobine theme to the place and eventually had to ask what it was all about. According to the barman, the place is actually called the Sunburnt Cow after an incident involving the owner and his 4 legged friend. I guess sucking on the teat made a little more sense now (not much, just a little).

The evening was finished off in style at the chippy. No ordinary chippy though. More gourmet chips. A choice of over 100 sauces could accompany your potato chunks in several different way. My layered curry chips hit the spot perfectly! New York's not all about Pizza and Pastrami you know!

Take Me Out To The Ballgame

2007-06-05T05:02:00.000-07:00

I came here for a game in 2003 and saw Roger Clemens win his 300th game and collect his 4000 strikeout in the same game against my beloved Cardinals. Quite the game for my first ever! Now I was back! Back in 2003 I have felt that the game I was watching might just be the only time i ever got to see a live MLB game. I savoured every moment, was amongst the last to leave the stadium that day and wished i was going to see more. It might not be the same series, or even the same year but I was back!

A big part of this trip for me was about watching baseball. The US portion of things had more or less been defined with when the Cardinals were playing at home and tickets for 3 games at Busch stadium had been purchased before I'd even left home. I wasn't just about watching the Redbirds though. I wanted to go and visit some of the great stadiums, let the history of the places surround me as I was there.

I was getting my first chance to take it all that in now. The House that Ruth Built, where Jo D played, Where Mantle would have strolled on a daily basis and now, where ARod and Jeter were ruling their own roost. I'd seen Clemens pitch last time I was here, now I was getting teh chance to watch another future Hall of Famer in the Big Unit, Randy Johnson. To top it all off, he would be facing the man I had been collecting cards of since his young days as a Cardinals, Dan Haren.

I had gone along to the game with 3 others from the hostel and found out as we arrived there that we could only get tickets together in the bleachers. a little disappointed we accepted it all and payed our money. Following a near death experience with a stadium hotdog we found ourselves in the pre-game bar just outside the stadium. Enjoy a Bud a woman caught our attention. She had 4 tickets to the game that she couldn't use. They were ours if we wanted them. "How much?" we asked. "Oh, nothing. I cant sell them, they're yours, take them." she replied. That'll be The story of how we ended up NOT in the bleachers but with tickets behind home plate!

I remember so little about the actual game. Haren outpitched The Big Unit and Oakland took it 6-1. I couldn't tell you who hit the rbi, who scored the runs or anything like that now. I can tell you that I had a thoroughly great time though. After all its about the event, the atmosphere, the just "being" at a ball game that makes it so cherished.

The Famous Incident of The Three Scots

2007-06-04T07:53:00.000-07:00

The evening had been spent meeting my first Booties of the trip in a place called the Peculiar Pub down in Greenwich Village. Kathryn and Rachel, both of whom call New York City home, were absolutely lovely. Typical Booties in every way, full of conversation and very welcoming.

Between us we sampled several of the 100+ beers on the menu at the Peculiar. Initially being issued with a list of countries. Under each country, a selection of their finest! Who could resist a round the world beer night! I forget some of the beers I tried that night, although I know I sampled Dos Equis, a Mexican favourite here in the US, for the first time.

We agreed to meet again before I headed off to Boston and with them both having work in the morning we departed at a decent hour. I wound up back at the hostel and joined a bunch back there for a few more beers and in doing so wound up agreeing to go catch the Yankees game tomorrow! I was positively buzzing when I went to bed!

My satisfying sleep was broken however by the return to my dorm of the 3 Scottish guys staying there. Now, its a hostel, a dorm room in the heart of Manhattan, you EXPECT there to be some noise. That kinda comes with the territory. What you DON'T expect is to witness Chelsea International Hostel's first ever Pukeathon.

Around 4am the three lads returned, unknown to me at the time was that they were celebrating a birthday, so a few minutes later there's a fair bit of crashing going on, someone walking into a wall, crashing on the floor and then someone letting loose the nights beer in the bathroom. Within a couple of minutes I can hear the oh so pleasant sound of yakking coming from just outside our front door. 2 of them, in tandem now.

Moments later and there's a third puking noise joining the other 2. But, hold on, so this one isn't coming from outside, it isn't coming from the bathroom but it IS coming from nearby. Yep, Scotsmen number 3 is giving the bedsheets a beautiful coating of carrots and peas. In unison then the 3 set about their pukathon leaving me trying not to join them as I'm struggling to push away the stench that's now circulating!

I did fall to sleep in the end of course, the puking did stop and the boys were busy cleaning when I awoke. The story though would NOT die. That would live on, already doing the rounds in the hostel before I had even surfaced. I hope one day I'll go back and someone will tell me about the famous incident of the three Scots!

The Cup Final!

2007-06-01T06:13:00.000-07:00

Amongst last nights festivities I had found myself agreeing to go and watch the FA Cup Final with a bunch of people from the hostel first thing in the morning. This of course meant a bright and breezy start at around 9am. not too bad you may be thinking, but I'd only crossed the Atlantic yesterday, been awake for over 24 hours and had a fair few beers to boot. Still, energised by the trip and eager to get my hands on one of New York's finest bagels I was up and ready and out the door at 9.30am.

The plan was simple, go down to Greenwich Village, find one of the many bars showing the football, plant ourselves there and enjoy a nice morning Budweiser. Things, as were to often be the case, didn't quite go according to plan.

We found the bar one of the girls had said would have the footy on. It did, and it was ours to watch for a measly $20 each. We refused,m and quite rightly so I think, to pay what would combine to be $120 between the 6 of us just to plant our arses down. There would be other places showing it we'd just go find one of those.

We found plenty of bars, the ones not showing it couldn't and wouldn't get it (as it was a pay per view event) and every single one we found that was showing it wanted $20 a piece. Bargain! We walked around Greenwich Village, ended up in Times Square, even ESPNs Sports Bar were blissfully unaware of it even going on. Whilst we walked we kept in touch with the scoreline thanks to my mobile phone, witnessing what was one of THE games of the season from something worse than teletext!

With 5 minutes of the game remaining and Liverpool trailing by 3-2 we found an Irish Bar willing to let us in for free to see the remaining few minutes. It was straight to the bar for a round of Buds and sit back and soak it up for all of a few minutes. Except of course where there's a Steven Gerrard there's always hope. And so it came to pass that we got to watch extra time free of charge and never had footy and beer gone down so well together!

I split from the group for the afternoon and set about some sight seeing. I had done a lot of the major sights last time I was here so the pressure was largely off to get and see things as quickly as possible. I wanted to take my time and enjoy just perusing neighbourhoods and seeing some of the things I had missed out on in 2003.

I had planned a little sight seeing tour whilst at home that I set about that afternoon. It was down to Greenwich Village to try and located some of the significant buildings and bars associated wit Bob Dylan and on a different note, the beat poets I had become so fond of over the last few years. The tour largely centered on McDougal Street where many of the bars and such like were located. Some were easier to find than others. The Gaslight Cafe and Kettle of Fish seemed to have been turned into something else or were at least keeping their identities close to their chest. I had trouble locating the Fat Black Pussycat but maybe the same was true about it as well Cafe Wha? Where Bob Dylan first played when he arrived in New York was still there. On E13th ST I found where Allen Ginsburg once lived but didn't get down to the Cedar Street Tavern which once would have played host to Ginsburg and Kerouac.

The buildings may not have looked like much but just strolling around, taking in the the little nooks and crannies around the area and losing myself for a little while you could easily imagine the beat essence thriving in this place.

The remainder of the afternoon brought me back to more conventional sightseeing in the form of the Brooklyn Bridge. It seemed amazing to me over the past 3 years that I didn't do this last time and I sure as hell wasn't going to miss out this time round! New York's Subway system was doing its best too try and keep the two of us apart. From subway station to subway station I walked only finding the "Uptown" entrances! Seriously ,If they're that far apart, just a simple signpost would help! Eventually I did manage to get on the Subway and wound up at the Brooklyn Bridge stop (The first time it had assisted me all day!).

The views as you cross the Bridge are stunning. I don't think any picture I took can do it justice. I made sure to walk all the way over and into Brooklyn, although just stepping foot on the other side was enough for me. I had already done my share of walking for the day!

Beer and Baseball!

2007-06-01T05:17:00.000-07:00

The Hostel turned out to be ideal in the end. A comfortable enough dorm room, nice communal areas and a great location on 20th between 7th and 8th. I had taken quite some time back at home deciding which hostel would be best for me in New York. With it being my first stop I wanted somewhere that would be good to meet people and a decent location which going by reviews the Chelsea International Hostel seemed ideal and, of course, it was.

Having arrived in the City early afternoon I couldn't resist the urge to get out there and re- familiarise myself with this great City. A walk up to the New Yorker (scene of my last visit here) and off around the Empire State Building vicinity brought everything flooding back. I knew already that I was going to have a great time here again, it just felt so right almost straight away

As the evening wore on I had decided to head out and find a quiet bar to have a beer or 2 in and catch up with some writing. With it being a Friday this sounds easier than it actually was! I'm not entirely sure how long I walked for but suffice to say I had gone at least as far as 14th Street and wound up back on 23rd at an Irish bar where I was able to grab a table, a beer and watch the Yankees take on the Athletics. This was the life!

Although it wasn't late, sometime around 9.30pm the day was starting to catch up with me. I decided to head back to the hostel and try and get a decent sleep so I wouldn't feel the jet lag come the morning. Things didn't quite go according to plan! I was, shall we say, sidetracked, by fellow inhabitants of the Chelsea and copious amounts of beer stacked on the outside tables. Needless to say, I couldn't resist the urge to chat to a few people and drink a few more beers!

I finally caved in at around 1.30am local time, essentially 6.30am back in England and had been up for over 24 hours now! Sleep was of paramount importance and I went to bed praying that the next week wouldn't be screwed up by me ignoring my own advice of an early night!

The Curious Incident of the American and the Air Stewardess

2007-05-31T07:59:00.000-07:00

Some people are just jerks. Plain and simple. I'm sure most people understand exactly what I mean but for those still a tad unsure, allow me to help you out, its not everyday after all that you get the pleasure of meeting someone so utterly contemptible!

Now aboard my first of what was to be many flights over the forthcoming year and have myself a nice little aisle seat and a spare seat next to me. To my right a seat further down is an American, whose name I would be leaving out if I did in fact know his name. Readying for take off and our American friend is playing with his phone, fair enough of course but not so fair after the third time the air stewardess has asked him specifically to turn it off. Each time going to put the phone away, waiting till she had gone and continuing where he had left off.

Shortly after take off, phone now finally immersed in pocket for good he gets his book out. Once again, no problem here, why should there be? Oh right, yes, he's reading aloud. Mumbling the words to himself, and of course, to those around him. Following this came another incident with the air stewardess who he seemed to completely ignore when she was bringing round food. The air stewardess had finally had enough, "I do speak English you know, so you CAN look and talk to me!" she verballed at our American friend. His response? Oh yeah, to take up the seat to his right, the one to his left and the one he was on. Leaving him with 3 seats and me, with his smelly socks far too close to my face for comfort, with just one. All I could do was shake my head in astonishment and ponder just how much spit the stewardesses had managed to get into his food!

Other than our American friend, the flight over to New York was long and uneventful. I was tingling with excitement and unable to really settle and watch a movie or do anything constructive for longer than about 10 minutes at a time. Eventually, after what seemed like 14 hours, not 7, we arrived at JFK International airport.

Fortunately I'd been through all this before, having spent some time in New York in 2003 but now, unlike then I was on my own. Unlike a good few that were turned away at customs for incorrectly filled in forms (American Airlines did a wondrous job of not even mentioning these forms on the plane) I was accepted into the Land of The Free for no longer than 90 days, sharing a chuckle about baseball with the customs officer along the way.

Taking the shuttle from the airport to my hostel was painless enough although when the bus pulled up outside an old dilapidated building in what appeared to be a not too good looking part of town I was just think how I pitied the person staying here before realising it was in fact I who would be inhabiting this building for the next 5 days.

Departure

2007-05-28T04:41:00.000-07:00

Excitement and nerves were hitting me in equal measure as the day of departure got nearer. I had done a fair bit of planning for the, what was essentially a fairly structured, North American leg of the journey. There had to be some considerable planning going on in this one as I need to make sure I was in St Louis and Portland at fairly specific times. There was of course room for some flexibility but I had a certain need to be in those places at pre-arranged dates.

The rest of the trip was largely unplanned. I had figured a vague route and highlighted places that I would like to go to if nothing else came up but there was plenty of room for plans and routes to change along the way. hopefully I'd get a few hints and tips along the way!

I had a fairly small leaving party in London at the beginning of May and a dinner out with my family back home a few days before I left. With just a day or 2 remaining it was to late to really change much now and just a case of packing and making sure everything I wanted to take was there and ready. Stuff went in and then back out of my backpack like a yoyo in those last couple of days. Eventually it was set and there was room at the top of it for my day bag.

My flight out of Heathrow on the 12th was at a pretty sociable time, however having to be there 3 hours early and having to make the one and a half hour trip up to the airport meant an early start and away by 6.15am! My parents and sister had come up to London with me to see me off, I have to admit I did feel more emotional saying goodbye than I thought I would. Now it was just me, alone, in Heathrow, the next year staring me straight down!

The nerves were in full swing despite having been abated for a few minutes as I checked in. The very sweet girl at my desk was startled at how many flights I was about to take and proceeded to confirm, with a smile, every single one of them. She was also kind enough to book my seats on all my upcoming American Airlines flights! I could have sworn the airport must have heard my heart pumping as I passed through security into the departure lounge, the realisation of what I was about to do now firmly taking a hold of me.

Leaving

2007-05-24T06:50:00.001-07:00

In May 2005 I handed my notice in at the job I'd been doing for the last 5 and a half years. I had no other job to go to , a house on the market that had already been there 3 months without any development, a stack of bills to pay and no income. This is the moment I had been dreaming of for the last 3 years!

It appeared as a rash decision to my employer who, perhaps if they had been slightly better at their job would have realised this was going to happen sooner or later especially given the crazy circumstances that had been developing between us over the previous 24 months. Needless to say I was glad to be out of there and with a chance now to follow my dreams.

Things certainly didn't run smoothly over the next few months. I had decided to have a proper break from work and had to take out a loan to cover me until I could eventually get rid of the flat that was now hanging round like a bad smell. It, of course, took far longer for my flat to sell than I had originally figured for and my plans were slowly but surely being scuppered. Despite this, I was enjoying the first real freedom I'd had in 6 years and feeling much more like my old self for the first time in just as many years.

Th flat sale did eventually go through and once I'd found y buyer things flowed like never before. Strangely in this situation the buyer and I got on well to the point where we would still consider each other friends 2 years down the line.

With the flat now sold it was time to get on with what this whole thing had been about in the first place! Debts were paid off and within 10 days of the sale being completed I was on the Eurostar out of London hurtling towards Lille at over 100mph!

For the next month I proceeded to travel across France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Czech Republic, Holland and Belgium before returning home full of beans and even more determined than ever to get on with the real deal - A magical year travelling the world! The European taster had worked out just perfectly! I had seen more of Europe which had been a huge part of the plan all along, I'd found that travelling WAS something I loved and that going alone WAS for me!

I now had 8-10 months to get myself planned and together for the trip of a lifetime! Guides were read, travel shows visited, travel agents hounded and websites scoured all in an attempt to actually figure out where I wanted to go, what I wanted to see, if indeed it was all possible and just how much hard earned would be going on it!

A few months later with the help of all of the above (a special mention to www.bootsnall.com for endless streams of quality information) I walked into Trailfinders on London's Piccadilly to book my ticket....

...4 hours later (yes, really, 4!) I walked out of there with my itinerary set and details of each flight I would be taking. A total of 24 flights across 5 Continent's in 12 months. I would begin my journey in May 2006 with a flight from London to New York!