Heart

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.

Welcome to Seattle!

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!

Its a Funny Old Game

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!!!

Decisions, Decisions!

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

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.

Getting the Memphis Blues

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.

Arriving in Baseball City!

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!

Chicago - What the El?

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!

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!