he was right. This IS an oasis!

Back in May, Ollie met a drunk American at a bar in Riga, while on a stag do in Latvia. The two got talking and when Ollie mentioned he was going to travel the U.S the guy said he had to visit San Antonio, Texas. He described the city as a ‘rare Oasis’ and plugged the place so much that Ollie felt it would be rude not to take up the suggestion. So at 6 A.M this morning we arrived in San Antonio, without a clue as to what we might do or see and absolutely freezing our bare legs off. The temperature had clearly dropped over night and having been living for the past few weeks in boiling heats, the change came as a highly unwelcome shock.

Leaving the bus station we walked into the night. The sun was far from rising and the only life about were birds squawking fiercely in the tree lined streets and a few homeless searching for tin cans. Shivering, we wondered around aimlessly. The over night ride had given us little if any sleep and we both felt sick we were so tired. Desperate, we found a coffee house just opening and ran in. Usually the caffeine would give me the energy I needed but this morning, the warm coffee just made me want my bed even more. As the sun eventually rose the city started to wake. We moved on in search of breakfast. The food court at the local shopping mall provided us with some tasty breakfast tacos but we still didn’t know what to do with our day.

* * *

One of the best parts of travelling is the wonderful surprise a place can give you. San Antonio has definitely given us our biggest yet! It’s a most unusual place. Running through the centre is the San Antonio river. It is situated down below most of the buildings so that it gives you a feeling like perhaps Venice would. There is an amazing ‘Riverwalk’ that runs beside the water, sprouting fountains, trees, greenery and lots of wildlife. The tranquil pathways are lined with little restaurants and cafes that set their tables all the way down to the waters edge. As the midday sun filtered its way through the leaves it was easy to forget where we were. There is a river boat tour that ferries passengers up and down and lots of families were out for a Saturday walk. It was here we ate lunch in a small Tex-Mex restaurant that made their own salsa and warm tortilla chips. We could certainly understand the drunk guys description of an oasis, this area certainly felt that way.

I had seen on a map that there was a market square and so persuaded Ollie to walk to it. And I’m so glad I did. The large market is where Mexican culture meets American in a great mix of food, arts and music. What made it even better was the ‘Dia de los Muertos’ celebrations taking place. The walkways were littered with little arts and crafts stools and many different hot food stands. I have always loved the ‘Sugar Skulls’ made at this time so was really excited to see so many different types hanging around. The festival interests me because although it’s about remembering the dead it’s more about celebrating life. For someone so petrified at the thought of death as me, to experience a culture that faces it head on and makes it a far less sombre ordeal as perhaps others can it is a welcome view point. 

The local Mexican museum was offering free entry today so of course I took them up on the offer! I learned all the Mexican history I now possess in 40 minutes! There was a large art exhibition and some of the work was fantastic. So many different styles and ideas to ponder at left me with a whole new appreciation of the country! I particularly enjoyed the work of Jose Guadalupe Posada who was a satirical cartoonist famous for his 'skeleton' sketches. My favourite picture though was of a skeleton eating a watermelon but I can't remember the artists name! A giant dressing screen had been painted in 1929 showing a map of Mexico split into its different art areas. It was a super piece of work. While I was finding the museum so informative, Ollie was suffering! Museums aren’t his favourite thing and especially not when he’s only had two hours sleep the night before!

I hadn’t thought it would be possible to go to Mexico but apparently I didn’t have to! San Antonio is so rich in history and so tied to Mexico that it would be impossible not to find links to the country everywhere you look! And it was our next discovery that proved just how ignorant we had both been arriving here...

The Alamo! How could we have not known that this was where such a major battle and great historic building stood?! I mean David Crockett fought here for goodness sake! And who knows how many times we had sung along to the Disney song about him while working at Raze The Roof! I can’t deny I felt very foolish as we turned the corner to see the old building standing there! But I’m so glad we did find it. We got to walk all around the church and last remaining parts of The Alamo as well as learn all about the famous battle on the way. Again I had a complete history lesson in only a few minutes! I now know why Texas is called the ‘Lone Star’ state, what David Crockett actually did apart from wear a furry animal on his head and when Texas became an independent state. While we were looking around I realised I did actually know something about this period. I remembered having watched a John Wayne film when I was little that was very, very long and in the end the people he was fighting with had still lost. Turns out that was The Alamo! It’s a great place to visit and has many artifacts including long rifles, old musket balls and uniforms as well as documents and letters preserved for all this time.

Overall we’ve had a very informative and erudite day that we hadn’t expected at all. San Antonio is one of the most fascinating places I’ve visited on our trip and a real coming together of cultures that work so well together. Although in the past of course they didn’t always get along so great!

29/10/11

let's find some Jazz!

As I write, I’m sitting in a small brick courtyard at a tiny ornate table drinking coffee and listening to early afternoon easy jazz. The female singer has a voice that eases away any other sound. Accompanied by a solo guitar, they are most definitely present and yet utterly unimposing. This is not a special occasion here at Cafe Beignet. This is everyday. Little birds scatter around my feet and chirp faintly around the bubbling fountain. Brass statues stand around showing off legends from the past. I am only a few meters from the busiest street in New Orleans and yet, I couldn’t feel further from the crowds. I’m trapped in a bliss that only ends when I chose. Sweet hot Beignet’s are served heaped in icing sugar. Melt in your mouth delicious. 

The previous day I sat in this exact same spot. It was late afternoon. Coffees had become cold beer. The music now with more energy. A three piece on stage, an enthusiastic banjo player leading the Bluegrass favourites. From table to table he moves. Conversing with his audience. It’s easy. This is his life and he couldn’t be happier. The trumpet smiles as he tells us when he moved here. His bright red converse only reveal his late age more. They are spotless; a younger pair wouldn’t be so clean. 

Back out in the street and cooler now. Fresher. We’re on the way to meet the rest. A haunted history tour of the French Quarter to begin our evening. We don’t see any ghosts. Then again did I really expect to? We learn the stories, the fact, the sadness of the district. We see buildings that have stood forever; only their purpose changing over time. Their balconies or galleries creep up in complex patterns to surround the high windows. The painted walls, some fresh, still keep their original colour. Our guide is an excellent story teller. Our fellow listeners are less impressive. Drunk already they stumble with us, heckling. So it’s true. American’s don’t handle their drink so well. A woman who can’t contain herself explodes on to the group, thoughts about her Father’s ghostly presence still surrounding her. Inappropriate and yet she seems to experience some twisted catharsis from giving us all a collar tugging moment. This isn’t the time. This isn’t a psychic circle. Finally embarrassed she moves to the back. And it is her husband who gets thrown off the walk. He can’t even stand. And the shame of it for me? The entertainment value was priceless.

We leave our guide at Jackson Square. It’s 10 P.M and time for the city to wake. Making our way through winding back streets we pass homes decorated in Halloween, lighting our way forward. Gas lamps flicker above hotel doorways, ambers fall from the fingertips of porch swings. Growing closer now the distinct sound of a muted trumpet, the tug of a bass. Frenchman St. ‘The Spotted Cat’ is crowded as the act draws to a close. A girl, handkerchief in her hair laments into the giant shining microphone. She’s in love. The bar clears a little and we find seats along one side of the cramped room. When was the last time this place was cleaned? Dirt clings to every molecule of air and it tastes wonderful. The taste of history, music, good times. Cigarettes burn, their smoke making my eyes water. It’s not illegal here. We wait expectantly as the next group prepares. 

‘The Moonshiners’ play classic New Orleans jazz and they do it extremely well! The clarinetist puts his full eighteen stone weight behind every screeching note he hits while ‘Phil Jupitas’ backs him on drums. A steady double bass plucks away; the singer plays banjo perfectly. The other force behind this wonderful band is the trumpet player. He’s one of the best I’ve ever seen. Lying back in his chair, feet and legs spread wide, he kicks out riff after riff of insane note combinations that make it impossible not to smile at his brilliance. People are taking pictures but they’re foolish. What they are trying to hold on to can’t be kept in a photograph. A camera won’t capture the feelings, the electricity. It can only disappoint when, a few days later, they try to relieve this evening, only to find a static pose that has no voice. Without knowing it my feet are stompin’ on the stool rung and my palms tapping fiercely at my knee. This kind of music is infectious. My whole body moves to it in a subconscious wave. A crowd of bobbing heads and shaking knees applaud each song so that the atmosphere is almost suffocating as it takes hold. This is why I’m here. A man stumbles into the bar alone but immediately finds a girl to take in his arms. They strut about knocking into body parts. But nobody cares. They’re too busy dancing themselves. Outside the guy on the door is confronting two men looking for trouble. They taunt him until he snaps and goes to punch them. The doorman is strong. He lunges them into a parked car. Punches fail to begin properly. We watch as the music beats a sound track to the brawl. We’re with the locals now and this is the way it’s done.

Tearing myself away from the bar because there’s so much to see, we cross to the next sounds. A Jazz Funk band. At first we’re part of the only few in there. But as the jamming grows feverishly the bar begins to fill. Everyone is dancing. The group on stage are again amazing. Tenor sax, keys, bass, drums and guitar each take turns to wow. Suddenly a man walks in playing a Euphonium. He jumps on stage and takes a solo. He’s only been in the room a few seconds and yet he already knows the tune by heart. He passes round the tip tin and of course we all offer up the green. The night continues as we try out more doors on the street. The ‘Apple Barrel’ is the smallest bar I’ve ever been in. Just large enough to be somebody’s front room a four piece is crammed into one end. Onlookers squish between each other. Fighting to see. Fighting for air. A few people are scattered around two small tables covered in years of spilled beer. The singer is Krusty The Clown but he doesn’t have green hair. A tambourine makes an unexpected entrance from the street. She joins in, her rhythms unbelievable. Smacking it hard against her wrist, forearm, elbow and knees this woman gives it her all. It’s as if rhythm flows freely through her, exiting through the instrument she holds in her hands. Everyone cheers her on. A spectacle and a marvel, she swings her hips. 

It’s 3 A.M but I don’t feel it. As people start to disappear down alleys and the bands pack up to leave I wish it was all just beginning. We walk back to our hotel lost in our own personal critiques of the night. New Orleans now running in our blood. But it almost wasn’t this way at all...

* * *

The stench hits us first. A surge of facies, urine, stale alcohol, sweat, horses, bins, drain water, heat surrounds and clothes us. You’d stop breathing altogether if you could. The smell is almost blinding; its fog that thick. But then we turn a corner and for a moment it’s gone. People crowd the broken and severely degraded sidewalks. Don’t keep an eye on where you’re going and you’ll twist your ankle for sure. I don’t know how many times we both tripped over as we made our way through the packed streets. Balconies and galleries spit down on us; their flowers freshly watered. Somewhere, someone is playing an out of tune recorder. Turn another corner and suddenly without warning, you reach it. The mass of luminous signs blaring into our faces. Cheap drinks, 2for1’s, sex, ladies and trivial souvenirs are shoved down our throats. Girls wearing nothing; shaking their asses in open doors while their ‘bouncers’ attempt to tease a group of suits in. And children are walking past with their parents. Little boys wide eyed and giggling clutch their Dad’s hand; necks strained backwards. It just seems wrong. Horrific Karaoke blares from across the street as bands playing hackneyed covers try to compete for domination. Is this what we came for? Or did we just stop off in hell? Bourbon St stinks.

Knowing no better, my dream of New Orleans is shattered within the first hour of being here. I look at Ollie and he already knows. My heart is breaking. We find a place to eat, to reassess what we’ve just walked into. We order sandwiches. They arrive and instantly I become a vegetarian. Over an inch thick with meat I can barely get the damn pig in my mouth. For the first time since we’ve been here we agree; this is too much! Even for Ollie, so much meat is a difficulty. But he manages, of course! We move on and back to the booze. Here, a soft drink is the same price as alcohol. I almost start drinking again just to try and ease the pain. Something small and hard whacks me on the head. I look up. Men and women are standing on hotel balconies throwing Mardie Gras beads at passers by below. It’s chaos as cheap plastic collides with the ignorant. Pot luck whether

the head sees the funny side. Sitting in the only bar not blaring out crap we listen to a guy singing the blues. He’s the size of a small car but has a voice that’s surprisingly high. He’s good but he’s not all that I came for. 

Bourbon St is only just getting busy when I decide to leave. I can’t stand it any longer. Back at the hotel I get on the computer to do some research. What we’ve just experienced can’t be all there is. New Orleans can’t have evolved to be as empty as this?

* * *

The next morning we go back into the French Quarter with a new sense of optimism. As it turns out we had been in the wrong place. A friendly guy in a walking tour shop sits us down for half an hour. He chats about his city, which he clearly adores, and tells us like it is. The places to go. The places not to go. What to see (the houses and buildings really are beautiful!). Where to eat. Who to speak to. Who not to. And most importantly, where the real music is. And it’s all about Frenchman St. As we leave he shakes Ollie’s hand but me? Well I get a hug! This man has given me hope. New Orleans can be everything I wanted. I’ve just got to walk on the right side of the road.

New Orleans is an extraordinary place. It contradicts itself with every new corner you take. It has an undefinable atmosphere that whips you up and carries you along relentlessly, tirelessly and unforgivingly. New Orleans can be what ever you want it to be. It makes no excuses and it isn’t about to quieten down just because you want to find some peace. On first impression you might feel cheated. That the history and music you hoped for has been lost. But it hasn’t. The city won’t just hand it’s most deepest treasures over. You have to make the effort You have to want to find them. And if you are willing to take the time, I promise you it’s worth it. Whether it’s the best place to eat Jambalaya (seriously yum!), to hear the best music (some roads are filled with the greatest street performers), the most haunting, captivating stories or to shop for beautiful antique jewelry you can’t be disappointed. Forget the degrading banality. Disregard the cheapening of self and soul. Look deeper. Push further. And then there, in that unimposing courtyard set back from the world, amongst the birds and the cobbles, you will find, your New Orleans.

28/10/11

it's one small step for Amy...

Yesterday was the second best day of my life!! The first being marrying Ollie of course, as without him the second probably wouldn’t have happened! Ollie took me to...THE KENNEDY SPACE CENTRE!!! When I was little all I wanted to be was an Astronaut (After I got over the fact I could never be a tomato of course) and it wasn’t until I was about thirteen that I realised it probably wasn’t ever going to happen. I just wouldn’t  be clever enough! Visiting the space centre though was a dream come true and I couldn’t have been more excited!

We hired a car and drove down to the island, crossing the giant NASA causeway to get there. In the distance we could see the outline of launch platforms and the giant building where they construct the rockets. As we walked down to the centre, speakers played out music that sounded like the start of a blockbuster space film. ‘Very Cheesy’ was Ollie’s comment. We queued up to buy our tickets and were very close to joining the ‘Commanders Club’ but settled for just a normal entrance in the end! Looking at the map we had been given I decided on our itinerary for the day. I’d never looked at this kind of map anywhere else before but I didn’t want to miss out on ANYTHING today! I found the place where we could meet a REAL astronaut and hurried over...of course I wanted to be first in line! 

Viewing the exhibits, we waited for the astronaut to arrive. They were all about the jobs NASA employees have to do and how many different people it takes to conduct the studies, build the rockets and design future space travel vehicles. Suddenly this pumping music started and a guy called ‘Ken’ bounced out onto the stage and started talking in a weird voice that was far to over the top for the ten people in his his audience! He gave a speech about how ‘we’ could be the future of NASA and the ‘endless possibilities’ out there for us to discover. His presentation was interesting but mildly ridiculous...especially the hand gestures that looked like he was dancing to the YMCA. A little confused I looked down at our map and realised we were in completely the wrong place! ‘Ken’ wasn’t an astronaut at all! Tugging Ollie’s arm we ran out of the room and over to where we should have been. 

We entered a large lecture hall and right at the front stood a man in a bright blue jacket in front of a slide show. Creeping over to a seat I felt like I was back at university; arriving to a lecture late and severely hungover! The man in the blue jacket was Mark Lee and he was an astronaut! He was also the guy who helped develop the jet pack astronauts use in space as a rescue aid if they become untethered during a space walk. Pretty cool! Mr Lee had been on four missions to space, on three of which he had been the Commander. His talk was extremely interesting. He told us all about his missions to repair the Hubble telescope and all the space walks he had participated in. His pictures were fantastic shots of him in space and he told stories about day to day life on a mission. I didn’t want his talk to come to an end! Everyone applauded as Mr Lee left the stage and we were all invited to go out into the lobby for a photograph. I literally ran and Ollie and I got to be the first to shake hands with Mark Lee and have a photograph with him. I couldn’t believe it. I had met a real astronaut! 

Next we decided to go over to the IMAX theatre and watch a film about the International Space Station. Wearing our bright red 3D glasses we sat down to wait. I have never been very good with 3D films as I am constantly pulling my glasses off to see if they actually make a difference! I’ve also never been very impressed with the quality of the 3D. However this experience was different. From the moment the film started I was totally captivated. Even the titles shooting out from the screen impressed me! We learned about how the ISS was created and then built in space. Who was involved in making the project possible and what it was like to actually live up there.  The film used some graphics, but mainly it was all real life footage astronauts had recorded during their time on the station. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a documentary so much! It was utterly brilliant.

Sitting back in our seats, seatbelt on, we were ready. The on screen guide took us through a few final instructions and then it was time to begin. Ollie and I were about to go through a shuttle launch! As the countdown clock grew closer to zero our chairs moved backwards so that we were lying horizontally, we began to shake, the rockets roared beneath us and 5...4...3...2...1 BLAST OFF! As we hurtled upwards the speed at which we were traveling pulled on our faces, we shook about wildly and the noise was almost deafening. Finally we broke the speed barrier, past through the atmosphere and entered space. The fuel rocket disengaged and our shuttle arced down so we were sitting upright once more. What an amazing experience! Apparently that simulator is the closest you can get without actually taking part in a real shuttle launch!

Leaving the simulator we both felt a little queasy. Above us was one of the shuttles they had used to take parts of the ISS into space. The NASA shuttles have now all been decommissioned (as of April 2011) as the ISS has been completed and they now want to design a new vehicle to take astronauts into space. Something designed specifically for their new missions. So I got to walk inside a shuttle that had actually taken trips to space! It was weird to think I was walking inside something that had been 200 miles above the earth, in a place I’ll probably only ever get to see in pictures or on television. It was quite hard to believe.

‘The Rocket Garden’ is a circular walkway, home to old rockets that are no longer used. They ranged from very old to some that were relatively new. I was able to get inside and lie in a tiny capsule that astronauts go in when they return to earth. I also walked along the platform that the crew of Apollo 11 walked along on the way to their rocket. I took some of the same footsteps that Neil Armstrong did! There is so much at the space centre that was used for an actual purpose and that you can actually touch. it’s not just a museum with a few artifacts behind glass windows. We went to the ‘Early Space’ exhibition and learnt all about space travel right from the start through to the present day. There were loads of news paper extracts and scale models to look at, as well as the opportunity to try and land a pod on the moon. Ollie managed it perfectly. I crashed mine straight away. Here I also saw Neil Armstrong’s space suit!

After taking a look at the giant Astronaut memorial we headed for the bus depot and the next part of the tour. The memorial paid tribute to all the astronauts who have lost their lives while in service. Although it was sad to see all the names written down and the pictures of the men and women, I couldn’t help think that actually the loss of life was relatively small. Space travel has its dangers of course but really when you think about it, it is worth the risk. Saying that I’m not sure if I’d dare to go, I can barely get on an aeroplane! On the bus we watched a couple of information videos as we travelled over to the viewing platform. We climbed up the steel tower to see the launch pads dotted around the island. They looked huge even from a distance and I could just imagine what they would look like with a rocket standing next to them. There’s going to be a launch in the next few weeks. The platform we were on was No. 39 and this was the one used for the Apollo 11 launch. More history we were standing on!

The last part of the tour was to the building that holds the rocket that took the Apollo 11 crew to the first moon landing. Inside the giant hall all the badges of each Apollo mission hung from the ceiling and I was able to learn about each mission. I can’t describe the size of the rocket but it was soooo big! We saw the capsule the astronauts came back to earth in and the van that had taken them to the rocket the day they went into space. There was also a real piece of moon rock that we saw and even touched and smelled! We were shown a video about the history of the Apollo missions. At the front of the theatre was the actual control centre used in the launch of Apollo 8. All the computers looked so old but just like the ones in the film Apollo 13! One of the astronauts, Jim Lovell, who went on the Apollo 8 mission and was also on Apollo 13, told us all about the launch.

Finally it was time to leave the space centre but on our way back we stopped at the Astronaut Hall Of Fame. Here we could learn about all the astronauts who have ever been sent on missions and see their uniforms and equipment. There was a G-Force test machine but neither Ollie or I could face the thought of spinning around that fast for two minutes! In space your blood moves unevenly to the upper part of your body, making your legs look super thin; like a bird. We stood in front of a mirror that should the effect and our heads and midriffs looked very puffy (Yes Ollie’s expanded even more!!).

Ollie had said I could chose one thing to take home from the centre so I picked the badge that the Apollo 11 crew had sewn onto their uniforms to mark the mission. I was very proud to be able to finally have a ‘space badge’! As a surprise Ollie had also bought me a ‘Space Commander’ pin badge...needless to say I was a very happy Amy! When it was time to leave I really didn’t want to. I could have stayed for hours taking in all the information. There was just so much to know and I hope I remember it all!

This really was a very special day, one that I will never forget. I’m so grateful Ollie made it possible for me to go and I think he even enjoyed it too!

25/10/11

what a pleasant surprise!

I had the worst night’s sleep yet on our over night bus from Miami to Daytona Beach. For some reason I just couldn’t sleep and then when I finally did, we had to get off the bus for a three hour layover and the Policeman wouldn’t let me lie down! Ollie met a blind man who he looked after and made sure he got on the right bus. While they were chatting the guy, Neville, said he was originally from London but had moved to the states in the 80’s. At first he sounded completely American but as he and Ollie spoke, a strange sounding but definitely Cockney accent started to appear in his voice. It was as if his accent had been tucked away as some dusty memory but was now coming back to life as Neville talked about his time in England. He even gave us his number incase we knew of any English women he could meet as his wife had died. Even at his age he was still a player!

Daytona was already hot by the time we arrived and wearing our packs was almost unbearable over our....eeek....sunburn! We looked like proper English fools! As it was Sunday we guessed the buses would be difficult but they were awful! Routes didn’t match the ones on the map, the drivers didn’t know which buses went where and some didn’t appear to be running at all. Eventually we got on a bus and a really nice man helped us to find the way to our hotel. It was difficult at first because we couldn’t remember the name of the hotel! But once Ollie did, the guy rang an operator and got the address for us. We promptly forgot it however when we got on the next bus! It was like a moment from that film (The Lady Vanishes?!) as Ollie and I tried to remember the street and building number...only we didn’t sing! 

I was very excited to be staying in a hotel for the night. We had found an internet offer which made it cheaper to stay here than to find a hostel. Spending a night with just Ollie and not six other men was a very big deal for me! Sharing rooms is fine but I was desperate for just one night where I didn’t have to lie near sweaty, snoring foreign men that farted every time they turned over! Our room is great! We have a balcony, sea view, two double beds, microwave, fridge and a big T.V. This is as close to bliss as we’re going to get! And as it’s only £42 for the both of us it just makes things even better!

Since we’ve been away we’ve found it very difficult to eat healthily. We’ve found that although we can find grocery stores in towns and cities, they never sell fresh fruit and vegetables. Those that do charge an absolute fortune. A diet of donuts, crisps and chocolate seemed like my perfect meal times but after two weeks all I want is a bag of lettuce! And so does my waist band! Luckily just opposite our hotel is a big enough super market that does sell what we need so I have stocked up on as much fruit as possible...who knows when we’ll next be able to get any! It does make wonder though if maybe this could be the reason so many Americans suffer with obesity. It really does seem as if in town shops only sell ‘on the go’ food and don’t care about ‘eating healthy’ at all. If you try to buy something nutritious it’s more than likely to be twice as expensive so I can understand why people just wouldn’t bother, or may not even have the time to.

For breakfast though I really fancied pancakes and fortunately there was a IHop opposite our hotel. I thought Denny’s breakfasts were good but they are nothing compared to IHop! I had banana and strawberry pancakes with whipped cream on top and maple syrup. YUM! The best pancakes I’ve ever had! Ollie had a cooked breakfast that came with unlimited pancakes. He tried his best but he could only eat six! Our server, Kenneth, looked a little sad when Ollie refused his third round, I think Ken thought Ollie was letting England down!

Daytona is very different to what I expected. It’s like a giant English seaside town really. A little run down and past its best maybe, but very friendly and relaxed. There are a few high rise hotels but apart from that the sky is left pretty empty. It’s nice to not see a steel horizon for a couple of days. The beach is ‘World Famous’ according to its sign but it reminds me of the one at Bognor Regis! The sand is very compact and if you stand in one place long enough you sink! When I was little Dad taught me how to bury my feet in this kind of sand, so of course I had to have a go today and yes...I got stuck! All along the beach we saw these tiny little birds that could run ridiculously fast so that they looked like cartoons. It was hilarious to watch as they zoomed across the sand. It was like a Bird NASCAR! 

I really like Daytona. It’s a quiet, unassuming place that is a refreshing from other places we’ve visited. It’s a place I think ‘average’ Americans live and visit. Being here feels like I’m walking through childhood seaside memories, which is strange ‘cos I’ve never been so far from home as I am right now. I’ve even asked Ollie if we can stay another night tomorrow, I like Daytona so much. It’s not amazing, eye catching or wondrous. But it's real. Honest. And this is so important in a country that lives to be larger than life.

23/10/11

no one can say we didn't try...

So we thought we’d give Miami another chance. Well I did anyway...Ollie was pretty keen on the place from the start! With the promise of a BBQ at our hostel never coming to fruition (it’s not the greatest of places...great lobby but apart from that it’s a bit rubbish!) we decided to give in and spend some money out, having dinner. Wondering down the street we couldn’t seem to find a bar where we’d actually ‘fit in’; jeans and flip flops just don’t cut it here! Eventually though, we settled on Johnny Rockets, my choice as I’d loved it the other day. If anyone has seen the film ‘Scarface’ then you might be interested to know that the staircase used in the Chainsaw Massacre scene is situated on South Beach beside Johnny Rockets. If you haven’t seen the film then you won’t care what staircase is there...it may as well be the one ‘Banana’s in Pyjamers’ came down!

The burgers we had were some of the best we’d ever eaten. Sooo much meat and loads of topping. Just how you always want a burger to be but end up being disappointed when it’s not! Ollie really wanted a cocktail so for one night only I agreed to spend $20 on one. It was 45oz (massive!) and he got to keep the giant cocktail glass! It was called ‘Rocket Fuel’  and contained 153 proof alcohol, the strongest legal liquor in America! It was basically a slush puppy! It took him over two hours to drink so actually in hindsight perhaps it was quite good value for money! He did feel a bit ridiculous walking down the street with a bright red drink in a comedy glass but that just made it funnier for me! It must have been pretty strong though ‘cos even though he was fine while we were out, as soon as we got back to the hostel that was it. He passed out!

After dinner we wondered up the street, stopping to watch a guy hand rolling Cigars. It was too good an opportunity to pass buy so we bought one and decided to smoke it on the beach. Having left our lighter in the tent that was now somewhere, still soaking, in Ollie’s pack, we had to ask the guy if we could borrow a lighter too. Not so cool! 

Down on the beach we climbed up to a Life Guard hut and sat looking out at the black sea, smoking and passing the night away. Maybe this was the way to enjoy Miami...

* * *

Today we didn’t have to catch our bus until the evening so we spent our time back on the beach. We sunbathed and swam all day. It was boiling and although I was wearing sun cream I still went a little red (of course I did, it’s me!). Ollie refused any sun cream because as always he thinks because he’s Cornish he doesn’t need it. Well. Now that he has a big red torso he feels a little foolish! Ha. Ha.

We left Miami as it began another of its relentless outrageous nights, heading back across the bridge towards the city lights. I’m not sorry to be leaving but in the end I did enjoy the experience of the last few days...a bit! Our parting gift was an $11 dollar taxi ride to go five minutes down the road. We had to take it because we couldn’t cross the interstate on foot but never expected to be so ripped off! The driver got mad when we didn’t tip, but all I wanted to do was kick him! Goodbye Miami. It’s time for you to exploit your next victims...

22/10/11

We don't have shoes. No clubs for us then!

I knew that Miami, for me, was going to be Marmite. I was either going to love it, or hate it. This is our second day here and I think unfortunately, for Miami, the latter statement maybe the correct one. However ‘hate’ is a strong word so perhaps rather than ‘hating Miami’ I just simply can’t relate to it. I’m finding it hard to even give the place my opinion I am that distanced from its rhythms. Miami is another planet. Inhabited by many people I would never care to see again. In fact if someone paid me even just one cent never to come back here I’d take the deal. Miami and Amy are never going to bond!

You might think I’m being a little harsh considering I’ve only been here two days but lets be honest, first impressions are deal breakers (whether we allow ourselves to believe that or not) and Miami’s, for me, have been mainly obscene! Now this is only my opinion, others may love this place, and I wouldn’t blame them, it certainly has a weird intrigue and the weather is pretty spectacular! But to try and best describe South Beach, Miami I will rely on the typical stereotypes often related to this part if the city. 

Yes the women here are pretty well in shape, most have large boobs (that Ollie reckons are real) and a lot of them seem to be loaded! The men do work out on gyms set out just behind the beach, they are all extremely tanned and they do have bodies you see on posters! The nightlife here is mental, places stay open ‘til 5 A.M and only open from Midnight (Mum and Dad try SPing here!!). There are neon clothed people all about and the fashion, judging by window displays is as garish as the cities general outlook. I can safely use the words vain, judgmental, shallow, fickle, superficial to describe some of the people here. But it's mainly the people visiting who seem to be this way. Well, I suppose some residents are too. But the ones working just want your money any way they can get it. They are relying on your need to 'have a good time' and to make outlandish payments for flashy goods. Something is feeding the obscene but I can't decide if it's the city feeding the tourists or if the tourists feed the city. Perhaps it's both. Either way I dislike the vibe. This is party central, flash the cash heaven and anyone who comes here is desperate to play the part.

I think coming here as a traveller may be worse than if I had planned a holiday. It certainly doesn’t help things when you turn up after sleeping on a bus, smelling a bit, carrying a newly formed paunch from all the cheap food you’ve been eating, wearing clothes that are either damp or dirty and with a tan that looks more like you’ve been drawn on with a brown felt tip in odd places. Looking as we did we were just asking for stares. Looking good is probably a commandment here!

Our hostel is in a pretty awesome location for being in the centre of the ‘action’. Situated on the beach front in the very popular and seemingly affluent ‘Art Deco’ district, it plunges you straight into Miami life. The district itself I have to admit does boast some fantastic architecture. All the buildings look they’ve come straight from the 1950’s and are all painted super colours! One of our particular favourites is a diner called ‘Johnny Rockets’ which has classic booth style seats right out onto the pavement and all the tables come complete with authentic looking napkin and straw holders. Oh and not forgetting the most amazing Milkshakes I’ve ever tasted! I had never had a ‘real’ milkshake up until now. This one was so thick that I could barely suck it up the straw and it was the most filling drink ever! One of the highlights for me!! All the staff stand in the pavement outside of the bars and restaurants trying to tempt you in. It is impossible to walk past without being jumped on unless you cross to the other side of the street! It’s always the way in a tourist destination but that is precisely why I avoid touristy places! I freak out, shrivel up and dissolve into a tiny ball trailing behind Ollie, holding his hand as tight as I can. 

We wanted to at least have a drink in a bar to say that we had so last night we set out for the evening. I’d even said I would consider a ‘club’ because you know...when in Miami! But to say we were out priced is an understatement! Everything here is crazily over priced and tips are added on whether you like it or not AND they expect you to add even more on your own! The cocktails do look huge but at almost $30 a time so they should be! Bars do 2for1 but you’re still looking at least $14 for one drink. We would never pay that back home so we certainly wouldn’t here! We found that to get into a club was $20 (oh and you needed shoes which we don't have!) and once inside even a single sprit and mixer was $15. Ridiculous is the only word I can find to describe this ‘night scene’. Who pays that much?! And why?! A night out could cost well over $100 and what would you have to show for it...a sore head? O.K so maybe I’m being a grinch and if I was here for that kind of holiday (trust me I never will be) I might view the situation differently. But on a traveling budget there is just no way. Another thing I wasn't comfortable with was the fact that young families were eating dinner just opposite girls dancing practically naked on bar tops. There is a time and place for both of these things but I'm just not sure its together! Content with a walk through the mayhem Ollie and I decided to go home. Sober but with our wallets intact!

* * *

This morning after over sleeping (must have been catch up from our camping torment) we got up and headed straight to the beach. The only place I like here! The water is the perfect temperature and the most gorgeous greeny blue, so that instantly the wretchedness of the city is washed away. We saw huge shoals of fish swimming in the waves, some even jumping out of the water; it was great! The morning sun was lovely to lay in but by midday it was really strong. I loved it but for Ollie he was bored and needed to move on! We took a walk down to the Marina which is on the tip of South Beach and it was actually a pleasant experience! On the way back we walked along the beach and for a moment I was able to forget the giant hotel complexes and just focus on what is left of the natural beauty! Although we have a feeling even the beach has had the ‘hand of man’ touch!

Miami isn’t the most unpleasant place but it certainly isn’t for the gentler personality. Certainly give the madness a chance for a day, but more than that and you might end up trying to chase your soul as it books the next flight out of there!

21/10/11

is it ever going to stop raining? PART 2

Washing finished we returned to our patch in the relentless rain. While I sat in the tent trying to rearrange things for ‘Jabba the Hutt’ to fit in (We would have both bags in with us as well tonight), Ollie went off to see about starting a fire; or trying to. Refusing to buy dry firewood in these weather conditions and as he said 'looking foolish', Ollie tried to find some undergrowth that had not yet been soaked through. Yeah right! I emerged from the tent about ten minutes later to see the fire lighters, a few twigs and some soaking leaves sparking in the fire pit. Ollie was standing over it. Dripping. He managed to get a decent size flame (don’t ask me how) and for one microscopic moment it seemed perhaps all was not lost. Maybe this small fire would be enough to get cooking! But our hope was short lived. As the flames began to die and the only wood left too wet to ever catch, we watched on as our dreams fizzled into nothingness. 

In silence we walked back to our tent. Neither of us dared speak for fear of making the other cry. Squeezing into the space I had created we lay/sat contorted and wet. Before we did anything Ollie needed to put on dry clothes. I won’t go into details but I can assure you a 6ft 2” chunky male changing clothes in a space no bigger than half a telephone box is not a pretty sight. In fact, I think I’m scarred. We both are. Next it was time for dinner! The rain had reached its loudest point yet and was hammering against the tent so hard I thought we would be setting sail soon for sure. Using my calf as a prep table I carefully made plastic cheese and BBQ sauce rolls. They weren’t half bad considering! For desert we had grapes and ‘Teddy Grahams’. All was not lost it seemed. And we did all this in the dark. With only a tiny book light and a head torch for guidance (Thanks Adam you have no idea how that has come in handy!).

After supper there was nothing to be done but sleep. We tried to get comfy but for Ollie it was impossible. I tried my best to lie as thinly as possible but there was so much of Ollie to spread about that at one point I feared suffocation! After being bitten in every place imaginable and in a complete state of itchiness Ollie had sprayed the whole tent for five minutes with repellant so that we almost died of asphixiation. We couldn’t breath for another reason as well. Our failed attempt at a fire had made us stink of smoke and now we had that stuck with us inside the tent too! Add in the fact that it was still so hot outside that our wet clothes and damp bodies had created a ‘steam room’ inside the tent that made the humidity literally unbearable, and you have an outcome that wouldn't result in sleeping! The more uncomfortable it got the more Ollie tossed and turned which just made the whole situation even hotter!

The rain stopped finally and I almost felt sad that we had thrown the burgers and popcorn away in a hurry. Perhaps we could have had a late night fire after all. We were lying down as best we could and trying to sleep but if it wasn’t the rain keeping us awake it was the cacophony of insects making the weirdest sounds we’d ever heard! When I next awoke, what I thought was hours later, I found Ollie trying to roll himself out of the tent in order to go to the toilet. The whole ordeal was another upheaval and before we could settle again the rain started once more. Hard as ever it beat down upon our tent, making sleep impossible for fear that we would miss a possible leak! I looked at my watch and to my horror it was only just past eleven. So many more hours to go! So this was the way we spent the rest of the night. Twisting, steaming, clock watching and listening to the torrents splashing around us.

                                                                            * * *

We woke at 6A.M. Silence. There wasn’t a rain drop to be heard. In a rush Ollie and I packed up our sleeping bags (well I did the packing while Ollie shone the light) and emptied the tent. Stealthily (well as stealthily as one can be in soggy flip flops) we carried our packs through the woods and past cosy RV’s over to the washing machine shelter. Once there we took turns to have a shower and then as soon as the sun began to rise we headed back to dismantle the tent. All this time the rain held off. Maybe our prayers had been answered! Thankfully we were able to pack the soaking tent away with ease and soon we were back under the shelter, waiting for our bus. While we were waiting we sprayed as much repellant over us as we could and counted each other's bites. Even with the spray we still had over twenty giant ones each, all of them ridiculously itchy. 

By the time the bus arrived the clouds had dissipated and the sun was once again beating down. Ollie was definitely ready to leave James Island County Park. Cursing everything, including the fact that it was my idea to camp, he sat down on the bus and turned his back on the whole nightmare. I didn’t tell him, but secretly, I had enjoyed the experience. It was a writer’s dream...

19/10/11

is it ever going to stop raining? PART 1

If I had had only one word to describe Charleston with that word would be ‘Stunning’. When we decided back home the places we would like to go, we only chose Charleston because we wanted to be able to say we had visited as many states as possible. And I am so glad that we were that ignorant back then to chose Charleston in South Carolina because it was the biggest writing on the map in SC...

Charleston has been the biggest surprise so far on the trip. We had know idea what we were coming to visit and even if we had I’m not sure we would have been able to conjure up a picture as beautiful as the town is. The southern tip of Charleston is where all the original buildings still stand (although most definitely renovated) making up a town in-itself really. The houses and buildings are all Colonial Georgian with a massive touch of Italian influence, making them some of the most astounding pieces of architecture we have ever seen. I don’t think I can find the words to describe just how lovely they are so will have to post pictures to demonstrate! They are all wrapped in a deep and important part of history that surrounds the civil war, George Washington and some of the men that signed the Declaration of Independence. Most of the houses have amazing wooden balconies (on every floor of course!), ornate little gardens and wonderful little fountains. These homes are still lived in today and sit on the edge of gorgeous tree lined streets (some still cobbled), winding there way to the sea.

The seafront itself is so very English. There is a promenade that runs the whole length of onside of the town and has water fountains and gardens spread along it. One can even dip there feet in the fountains if they wish. Which I did obviously! It is so quiet in this old part of town, not even a car or person is to be seen really, that you could forget you were in the present entirely. Both Ollie and I agreed that we were expecting a group of soldiers to walk around the corner at any minute or to see a Georgian Lady in all her fine clothes. The place has been kept so well that it is so easy to imagine how it might have been all those years ago. 

The other part of Charleston (which I keep referring to as a town when its probably a city but feels more like a town so I shall continue to refer to it as such), is more modern and yet the new buildings have been constructed to fall in line with the original architecture. King St is the bustling shopping centre with brands such as Louis Vitton and other posh names finding a spot here amongst lovely smaller boutiques and countless antique stores. The later were selling some extraordinary pieces and I think for the first time Ollie realised what a pontion I have for chandeliers the way I kept on about them!

Another important part of Charleston is Market Street. Originally a meat and fish market way back in Colonial Times, it is now a place for souvenirs, trinkets and wonderful grass baskets made by the locals. It was in one of the shops along side the market though were I had my ultimate treat of the day. In a sweet shop to be precise. It cost $3.28 and was worth every cent! A ‘Bears Claw’ or a giant Florentine to you or I. Massive pieces of pecan nut sprinkled over a thick layer of liquid toffee, all held together by a huge dollop of solid white chocolate. More than delicious! It was a taste sensation!!

After walking all around the town (yes our map was to scale today woop!) we decided to head out a little way in search of a super market. And we found the best super market ever! Well I thought so anyway! It was called ‘Piggly Wiggly’ and used a giant pig as its mascot. Piggly Wiggly made loads of announcements in store in an hilarious voice that sounded like (and I am certainly so being racist here) a plantation worker! Further to that, employees would keep getting on the microphone and say stupid things and get all the shoppers to wish certain staff members ‘Happy Birthday’! It was an hilarious experience and we finally found some cheap food and fresh produce. Winner!! 

We had seen back at the campsite that you could have a BBQ and fire so we purchased some burgers, marshmallows and popcorn that you could make on a fire. All yesterday afternoon I had been looking forward to the fire we would have this evening and was, as always, far to over excited about toasted marshmallows! Heading back to our shuttle bus, food in hand we couldn’t have been more happy. A wonderful day in a beautiful town and tonight would be awesome around the camp fire. And then it started to rain...

* * *

As I write this I am sitting beneath a small wooden shelter that is home to the washing machines on site here at the camp ground. Not only is the only place with plug sockets we can use to charge our various electrical items and clean our clothes (yay no more stinkyness!), it is also the driest spot we can find! 

Now when I say it is raining, I mean it’s raining. A rain so solid that I have only ever seen similar on programs about rainforest. A rain so fine a persistent that you would be soaked through before you even realised it was raining. A rain so penetrating that after a few moments our day sack was soaked through. A rain so heavy (yes you can have a rain that is heavy and fine...I’m sitting in it) that it fills up the ground to ‘super soggy’ level within minutes. A rain that although you would never allow your head to admit it, your heart knows it could go on for hours, days. Or perhaps even years. This kind of rain is the worst imaginable thing for campers. Yet we are not just campers. We are campers in the tiniest type of tent that any small amount of running water could just sweep away. Never to be seen again.

But that’s not the least of our troubles. What did I say we bought in ‘Piggly Wiggly’? BBQ food. And only BBQ food. Won’t that be an interesting dinner in the rain?! Without the meat there is only cheap plastic cheese (that only tastes good on burgers), BBQ sauce and bread rolls. Yummy! So my wonderful plan is for now on hold. We will get our delicious feast? Only the rain can decide...

Please note - There would have been pictures but due to unforeseen weather conditions, the camera equipment cannot be used at this time.

18/10/11

so glad Auntie Sarah gave us insect repellant!

Yesterday we had planned to go to Memphis. However the draw of the hostel atmosphere was too great and ashamedly, perhaps, our need for visiting Graceland could not match it. What can we say? We just weren’t born in the right decade! 

It was another boiling hot day in Nashville and about all we could manage was a lazy morning sitting out in the sun chatting and saying our goodbyes. We took a trip to Subway in one of the girls’ car we had met because Ollie just couldn’t miss out on the $5 footlong offer! But eventually it was time to leave and both of us tried to ignore the thought that maybe we should stay just one more night. We both knew however that it wouldn’t be just ‘one more’ and that we had to get a move on. There was still so much to see...

We boarded our coach and set off on our 17hr journey. We each took it in turns to finish the book we had been reading. At Heathrow Ollie had decided he wanted to buy a book. This was a complete first for him! We chose him a murder mystery and I wondered just how far he would get before he gave up. However I don’t know if it’s the totally empty time spent on the buses or a new passion for the written word but Ollie has actually finished the book in under two weeks! Intrigued to know what I was missing, and my own book proving mind boggling to read, I started reading the book a few chapters behind him. O.k so it wasn’t the greatest literary classic but it certainly was an entertaining soap opera! Ollie loved having the upper hand, knowing things I didn’t, and for the first time in our relationship we have had conversations about a book! Who would have thought? This trip is certainly throwing up some surprises...he even wants to read another one!

Anyway I digress. The journey was the usual uneventful ride complete with annoying lay overs in the middle of the night and passengers that felt the need to talk to us at every inappropriate moment about something neither of us had a clue. There’s only so many times you can smile, nod and answer ‘Yes I am English and that’s my real accent’ before things get a little tedious!

* * *

We arrived in Charleston, South Carolina this morning to more beautiful weather. This was the only part of the trip so far that I had organised on my own; accommodation and transportation. Naturally I was eager to prove to Ollie that he wasn’t the only one who could take control of our plans. Well. Things didn’t exactly work out the way I’d planned. Firstly I had no idea which direction ‘downtown’ was so had no idea of which side of the street to catch the bus from. Had I been on my own I would have just waited until one came along, asked if it was the right bus and then acted accordingly. I should know better by now though; that isn’t the way Ollie operates. He remained quiet as we waited to find our bus but I could tell from the ‘Why didn’t you write it down like I do?’ and ‘We’ve already been here 20 minutes’ that he wasn’t impressed. Eventually we caught a bus going in the right direction and I was doubly pleased when it stopped right at our next bus stop. Jumping off happily I felt sure Ollie was coming over to my way of doing things. 

After an hour and fifteen minutes our next bus was still a no show. We had seen one no.31 but I had said it was going in the wrong direction so we didn’t take it. By this time Ollie was steaming, sweat dripping down his forehead, knee shaking vigorously. I was in trouble. He had had enough. When the umpteenth no.10 bus pulled up Ollie stormed over and asked the driver when the next 31 would be along. Another fifteen minutes. He sat back down and commented that the first bus we’d seen was the correct one and that we’d have been at the campsite hours ago if only I had either written down the information we needed or just let him organise it in the first place. I had tried my best but clearly my skills don’t lie in the area of ‘trip organising’. For me I was perfectly happy to wait around and somehow figure out the next move; that’s how I always do things! So I told Ollie that maybe he should stick to what he was good at and that I would stick to what I was good at from now on. To which he replied ‘So what are you good at Amy?!’

* * *

We arrived at James Island Park (No wonder we couldn’t find the right bus I’d been calling it St James Park all morning) and walked to the campsite that was situated right at the back. It would have been a lovely walk around the lake, through the woods and across the playing fields had it not been a million degrees! Soaked through we finally made it to the registration office and received a lovely amount of information from an old man, very intrigued by our appearance. We (well Ollie. I was just allowed to check the pegs were in correctly) put up our tent for the first time without any complications and I was very impressed by the actual size of it and so was Moomin. After a shower to cool down we took a walk around some of the 700 acre park. It is so nice to be away from the cities for a day. The tranquility of this place is just wonderful and all you can hear is the insects, birds and a few people walking their dogs. It’s so different from anywhere we’ve been so far on our trip and we have taken the opportunity today to just relax and forget about the rush and roar.

in America we drive on the right side of the road...

We went to bed at 3 A.M and Ollie woke me at 8.30. Ouch! We had spent the previous night hanging out with a group of guys staying at the hostel, drinking beer (well Ollie), putting the world to rights and then tearing it apart again. This was the best evening we had spent in America so far and we hadn’t laughed so much in a while!

We walked into town and caught the bus to the airport. No we weren’t flying anywhere...we were going to hire a car for the day! It was the only way Ollie could get to visit his dream place. The Jack Daniels distillery in Lynchburg. As we left the parking lot and slowly made our way to the turn pike we were both a little nervous. Neither of us had ever driven abroad before and now were about to take on the wild American Interstates! But Ollie was brilliant and got the hang of the ‘right side’ really quickly. I wasn’t so bad myself and read the map and followed our scribbled down directions perfectly so that we didn’t make one wrong turn! That doesn’t even happen when we’re at home so it must have been our lucky day!

The distillery was set in the countryside, almost in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by lots of trees and stretching back into the hills it was a great spot. The owners (some big corporation now) had kept it in its original place and we found out that there in Lynchburg is the only place they ever make J.D. That impressed me immediately. I had thought that this was just going to be a museum like place and the the actual manufacturing of the whiskey had long moved away to more modern distilleries. But in fact J.D is still made the exact same way that it was back in the late 1800’s when Mr Jack bought that distillery at around the age of 14. He had chosen it because of a cave and its underground spring; the source of which has still ever been found. We got a lick of J.D 140 proof moonshine (the stuff they start out with) and it really took our mouths off! Next we got to take sniff in the huge vats of fermenting yeast, hops, wheat and corn. When you took a sniff the vapours flew up your nostrils with such a tear that everyone in our group immediately jumped back. It was hilarious to watch each individual person have a go. 

In the building where the whiskey is past through the smoked charcoal (a process which distinguishes J.D as a whiskey and not a bourbon) the guide flapped the huge wooden lids so that we could get a smell. And WHAT a smell! Beautiful smokey whiskey filling our lungs and running our over our lips so that it was impossible not to lick them. We moved into one of the barrel stores and heard how Jack Daniels makes its own barrels by hand because its the wood of these that give the whiskey its colour. They only use a barrel once because after that they think all the goodness has been taken from the wood. We were most surprised to find out that they didn’t then throw the barrels away but instead shipped them to Scotland. This is because the Scottish whiskey makes use them to hold their whiskey while it matures. Apparently some very distinguished Scotch whiskey makers use them. Who would have thought?!

Finally we saw the bottling room and learnt that Single Barrel J.D is the best and is aged for longest. We could have bought a Barrel (240 bottles) for $9,000 but we decided not to!!! If we had though we would have had each bottler personalised AND got to keep the barrel itself! I have gained a far greater appreciation for Jack Daniels and realised it’s not just a gimmicky popular brand but actually a really distinguished and traditional whiskey makers. The effort that goes into producing such a whiskey is definitely worth the price! Even Ollie said he won’t complain again at how expensive it is! 

If you would like to win the next postcard please answer the following question -

Can you tell us the cause of Jack Daniels death? And for a bonus point how tall was he?

                                                                       *   *   *

We drove the car back, had an interesting moment at the petrol station that i won’t go into because it will annoy Ollie to much if I do, and walked back to the hostel. We had arranged with a couple of other guys that we would try and go to the NHL game that was happening at ‘Smashville’ (awesome name!) that evening. Nashville Predators were playing The New Jersey Devils. One of the guys we were with was a Devils fan so he was really up for going.

When we got to the stadium we tried to buy the tickets but the damn ticket woman was so slow that by the time she had entered our details she announced ‘Sorry they’ve all been sold!’ Mad as ever the four of us left the stadium. We had only one other option. To try and get some tickets from a tout. Looking around it seemed hopeless. But then we saw four men with boards hanging round their necks that said ‘Tickets’. We can over and shouted that we wanted four. Immediately the men jumped around us all figheting over who would get to sell them. We managed to get four siting close together and when the guy said $30 each we couldn’t believe our luck! And to think we almost played $67 in the stadium! Parting with our money the sudden realisation that the tickets might not be genuine hit us. 

Lining up by the doors, the dreaded ‘beep’ of tickets being scanned and accepted, we awaited our fate. Ollie was first through. Beep. He was in and following close behind so were the rest of us. A cheer of relief and congratulating ourselves we went to find our seats.

The 18,000 seats of the enormous stadium were practically filled and the atmosphere was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. There was music blaring, chants of all kinds running through the crowd and the Megatron (big screens in the middle) flashed pictures of previous games. It was all so over the top and I loved every bit of it. There were cheerleaders and a Saber-toothed Tiger Mascot. There was a live band and an old guy playing the organ! As the opposing team’s (The Devils) team sheet was read out the Preds crown shouted ‘You Suck’ after each name and filled the room with booing. It was hilarious! It was all about the home team tonight and the opposition barely got a mention. It was so one sided and I thought it was so funny ‘cos back home everything has to be so fair. 

The crowd descended into silence as a young girl walked out onto the ice to sing the National Anthem. There’s something about The Star Spangled Banner that gives me goose pimples every time I hear it. I don’t know if its the haunting melody or the lyrics but sometimes I think it has more of an effect than our own Anthem. It’s so much more emotive I think. The girl finished and the crowd let out huge hoots and cheers. The game was on.

I have to be honest one of the reasons I had so badly wanted to see a ice hockey game was because of the fights! I know it’s bad but it’s also very true! On T.V I’ve seen some cracking hits but when you’re actually there it’s even better! Players slamming each other into the side screens and flying over one another. In the first period to guys whacked into each other and then so mad they threw down their sticks, pulled off their gloves and then just went at each other! So theatrical! The Refs just stood back and let the two of them, well, fight it out! Punches were flying, although not often making contact due to all their padding, body parts being tugged and wrenched, faces contorted, it was a true spectacle! Eventually the refs called time on the little bust up but not after the crowd had had their fix. We were all on our feet screaming and shouting, getting thoroughly carried away! 

The rest of the game was just as exciting only slightly less violent! Preds went 2 up before the Devils managed to equalize and finally win on penalties. Yes. There was even a penalty shoot out! It was my dream game!! I was sad the home side didn’t win though. I think one of my favourite people there was the guy on the organ though. He’d suddenly burst to life at random parts of the game and play some stupid tune to get the crowd going. I also like the film clips on the megatron every time an issue occurred or something major happened...mainly because they kept using Will Ferrel quotes! 

I was so glad we got to experience an NHL game. It was great to see so many people there supporting there team and how such a big deal it was all made. It was a real party atmosphere and there were so many kids around with their families. We sat next to a guy who had brought his son along for, as he called it, ‘Your first Hockey Game’. The little boy was hilarious constantly shouting ‘You Suck!’ and ‘Go Preds!’. We got talking to the Dad who said he had always wanted to live in Ireland, in Belfast. Well someone has got to I suppose...

Back at the hostel we sat down to play some more cards and I actually won a game! We’ve had a great time in Nashville and in particular the time we’ve spent at the hostel meeting and talking to some great people. For the first time since being in America I think we will both be sad to leave a place. Tomorrow is another long bus journey. Onwards to South Carolina.