Our trip to the
United States began as almost any other endeavour of ours turns out; a last minute rush. Things were still being packed as the taxi turned up. Fortunately Norwegian taxis enjoy a lucrative waiting time tariff and never mind having to wait. Getting into the taxi was a blessed relief and I finally felt myself able to let go and relax. From then on getting to
America was no problem whatsoever.
We met Maria, our friend and companion for the New York part of the trip, at the airport, waltzed through check-in, got onto the plane and had a very uneventful 10 or so hour flight to New York. Matilda, quite to our surprise, behaved perfectly the entire flight, behaviour she would repeat again and again, with only the odd exception.
Landing in the U.S. our first surprise was the lack of visible security. Thanks to the scaremongering in the European media we had been expecting something approaching a military checkpoint to enter the US. We had smiling helpful officials and a security guard that walked Matilda around by the hand while we were getting our stuff together. Where were the guards, guns and the scent of fear? The entire US is still on orange alert, but there was nothing like the police presence I have seen at Paris, Frankfurt, or especially any of the London airports where the police walk around in groups with machine guns at the ready.
The taxi ride from the airport to our Brooklyn apartment was a little like the movies; we had a driver with bad English who really had no idea where he was going. He claimed his satellite navigation system had been stolen, and spent half the journey calling people to ask for directions. Only slightly disappointing was that after seeing all those yellow cabs, by the time it was our turn, the next available cab was bright green.
Thanks to heavy traffic and an accident that blocked the Brooklyn Bridge we made slow progress and by the time we arrived at our apartment it was late in the afternoon and we were already exhausted from the journey. Alas our first day ended in unpacking and a short journey out to get some simple food.
It has to be said that while the apartment was better value than many of the hotels, it was misrepresented in my opinion. It certainly wasn’t as well kept or clean as the photographs looked, and to claim that it sleeps up to seven people? Well, two per bed and three more between the sofas, but still, it was made to sound much larger and photographed to look nicer. Everything worked though and it was spacious enough for the three of us.
Our first real day was spent exploring central Manhattan on foot. Basically up Canal Street, Broadway, Union Square and Times Square, window shopping and snacking along the way, and taking pictures of all the things that tourists are blinded by; for us tall buildings and squirrels. As late evening approached we realised we hadn’t eaten and had no idea where to go. We all wanted to avoid the burger chains and settled on a nearly empty organic diner where our first American dinner was decidedly bland; hot and cold vegetable salads. In retrospect it was the healthiest meal I ate during our entire month.
The days followed the same pattern; get out by 11-12, try to work out our subway stop, have fun pulling the stroller up and down escalators, and then walk around until we found what we had set out to explore on the day. Get a coffee and something to eat somewhere, preferably at a different place every day, at least somewhere other than Starbucks. This isn’t to say that Starbucks doesn’t do good coffee, because it does. Starbucks, in Manhattan at least, simply has no soul.
At least three days were spent shopping. That meant Macy’s, Century 21, and any shop that looked good in Soho (what fun it was trying on all the outrageously priced Versace and Armani, etc and trying to pretend to the shop attendants that we could afford anything. Had to admit though, Armani suits looked good on me.) Macy’s was just too big and you got tired walking so far to find anything. Century 21 simply had far too much stuff and no system to display it, meaning you had to literally go through things rack by rack. Still, Maria was in heaven.
Food was found in better places than our first day; little Italy, the Brooklyn Diner (just outside Central Park, where we finished up with something called Red Velvet that ought to come with its own health warning), Chocolate by the Bald man and so on. Chocolate by the Bald Man was especially amazing and equally sickening. We had already eaten so we just ordered a desert to appease Matilda and some cocktails for ourselves. Chocolate cocktails sound fun but the sweetness… I think we all found our personal chocolate limits that day.
Day 5 saw us exploring Brooklyn a little more than the walk from the apartment to the subway. First was Prospect Park, wonderfully empty, beautiful and full of statues of Germans, and Borough Hill, the orthodox Jewish centre of America. We must have arrived during a religious festival or holiday (Sukkot) as there was something going on with very expensive misshapen lemons and palm fronds, which were being sold all over the place. The day ended up at Brighton Beach (Coney Island) and a long walk along the boardwalk. Matilda loved the freedom there and ran around like mad for several hours and even managed to make a few friends along the way. Leaving with the setting sun and the rising bugs (literally you could see them lifting off in droves from the sand), Brighton Beach looked unwelcoming and glad to be rid of everybody as the sun finally dipped below the horizon.
The following day we rode the Staten Island ferry. This was in part because we wanted to, and to take in a better view of the Statue of Liberty. We didn’t want to queue up just to climb into the plinth beneath the statue to ooh and ahh. She’s a good enough sight from the boat, trust me. The view of the Manhattan skyline was fantastic, but thanks to the huge crowds on the boat there was no way to get a decent picture, but then that’s what postcards are for.
Staten Island itself had a few tours, but we thought that perhaps we could explore on foot and see for ourselves. By the time we were out of the ferry terminal and had walked up and down a few hills and along roads into some very quiet suburban areas we were ready to take whatever we could find. We turned up only one interesting place on Staten Island, an old coffee shop called Everything Goes, run by a pair of hippies. Great place, good coffee, lots of books and they even have a vinyl section where you can listen to old records and even space for bands to play live. The rest of the day saw us back at Century 21 to pick up various items tried on the day before ( I should probably ask Maria to do a fashion show of all the things she bought) and then a futile walk down the wrong end of Broadway to look for somewhere to eat. With out feet killing us, we just went headed off into side streets and managed to find a restaurant that was having a tango evening and had instructors giving lessons as we ate. It was a very nice meal up to the point where one of the waiters started setting the table for the next meal while we were still finishing our meal.
Our final day in New York saw us head out to Central Park. I had no idea what to expect but I did not think it would be quite as full of tourists in October (admittedly a nice October) as it was. It did not ruin the place, but after the peace and tranquillity of Prospect Park it was a little disappointing. We did get to see a wild turkey, well, probably one that had escaped from the zoo in the park. Oh, and lots and lots of squirrels.
A little more shopping and a lot more walking and finally the sun was beginning to set when we decided to check out the view from the walk along Brooklyn Bridge. Certainly it’s an interesting sight, probably better at dawn or dusk, the latter of which we had just missed. Instead of walking back across we decided to head for the subway station we knew to be just a little way across from the bridge. We found ourselves in a sealed walkway between the roads leading to and from the bridge. This took us a long way past the subway so we decided to find the next one. This is where we began to get a little bit lost. Here’s some advice; do not rely on a subway map and a bus route map to find your way around New York City. Get a street map. Thanks to various helpful passers by we finally found a subway station and headed for home. Thanks to the colossal amount of walking that day we lacked the will and the energy to do anything more than pop into a McDonalds on the way back Some last meal.
Our day of departure arrived and in the morning we said our goodbyes to our landlord and set off for Penn Station. Almost. No sooner was the door closed than we realised we did not have the phone number for the taxi company. We knock on the door, no answer. We ring the guy we just said goodbye to. Nothing. After ten minutes of trying to raise him we were standing on the doorstep with a mountain of luggage trying to figure out what next. The area wasn’t the kid of lace that seemed to attract a lot of taxi’s so flagging one down wasn’t an option. This left only the subway again... With the mountain of luggage.
Time was ticking and by the time we arrived at Penn Station I was already resigned to missing our train to Buffalo. By some miracle we made it through Penn Station just as the train was boarding. With only a moment to say goodbye to Maria we were on board and off. Sitting down never felt so good.
Our train journey gave me time to evaluate our New York stay. While we felt we had walked enough of it, at the same time it felt as though we had seen almost nothing. I’ve always been aware of the difference in a place when visiting it as a tourist and when you are there with the natives. Well, we’ve done the former, next time I want the latter.
The weather was a big surprise. It was sunny enough on two days to give me a little sunburn, and we all left New York with a little more colour than we arrived with. Maybe the weather was the reason everybody in New York was so nice.
The train journey gave us no surprises. Matilda had the freedom to run up and down the aisle and was quite well behaved the entire journey. The journey itself was a nice chance to keep my feet up, having had 7 days of 8 solid hours a day walking around NY. The scenery from Poughkeepsie onwards is beautiful, but you can only have so much and it’s an eight hour journey.
Our residence in Buffalo was Honu House, a residential bed and breakfast in the Elmwood area. Each of the rooms inside was decorated with a theme in mind and all artfully and tastefully done. We were supposed to have the top floor but due to a mix up with a seventeen year old Japanese ballerina we were given one of the other suites, which was a bonus to say the least. Our new rooms had super-sized bed and a whirlpool bath in the lounge. It would turn out to be a shame that during the day we were always busy, and in the evenings with Matilda asleep it was too noisy.
The communal area (lounge, dining room and kitchen) was filled with an eclectic mix of furnishings, again all fitting together to give a very warm and welcoming feel to the place. Behind a revolving bookcase, something Leni fell in love with and wants in any future home, was our landlady’s office and access to the basement and kitchen. After reading about Buffalo and its attractions and history we allowed ourselves four days there.
As usual, the day of arrival saw us arrive quite exhausted. By the time we were in our rooms and in any condition to venture out it was dark and Matilda was ready to sleep. Once Matilda was asleep, we were pretty much confined to barracks ourselves.
The new day saw us exploring again. Just up and down Elmwood first of all with a look around Delaware Park. Nice enough. The houses off of the main street were nice, and there were some amazing houses and area off of it, especially in Delavane. We decided to venture a few more roads out and found Main Street to be anything but. The area began to look run down and abandoned. This was still in the centre of the city. Apparently once outside Elmwood you have to hit the suburbs before things get nice again. Everything in-between has been decaying and deteriorating for the last few decades thanks to a long economic downturn and emigration away from the city. It suddenly felt like four days in Buffalo might be too much.
Peter and Barbara, friends of friends, were our hosts on a journey to the Niagara Falls. The falls are impressive, the scenery beautiful and the mist wet and that’s all I can really say about it. It felt like I had ticked off a place on a list rather than actually experienced anything. Perhaps we should have gone on the boat that takes people to the bottom of the falls. I rather began to think it may have had something to do with keeping at least half of my attention constantly on Matilda.
From Niagara we were driven around on a light sight-seeing tour of historic Buffalo and some other more recent sights of interest. When you know what you are looking at things fall into place a bit more. The great houses and mansions along Delaware Avenue were amazing and also depressing. It was quite sad to see all of them become schools and business premises, losing much of their majesty and grandeur.
Our last day in Buffalo was some shopping and a little sightseeing of the things we did not get to see on our second day. Again, Matilda seemed to charm everybody who came close. I should mention the Albright Knox art museum. $10 per person on the door for a particularly small collection, including that pet hate of mine, modern art, felt like robbery. And a dimly lit room with mood lighting is not art. It’s just a dimly lit room with mood lighting, ok.
While Honu House was great, I didn’t feel as though Buffalo had anything else to offer so leaving was quite welcome. Finding the Amtrak station to actually leave by was another matter. Driving back and forth trying to find the right turnings in the maze of one way streets was giving me another of those dread ‘we’re going to miss our connection’ feelings. As luck would have it the train was running 30 minutes late. Once boarded (and after a brief panic over ‘lost’ tickets that were in Leni’s bag) we were off to Toronto, Canada.
Arriving in Canada was delayed thanks to US customs deciding to check our train. Clearly they were looking for something and not someone as we were all herded towards one end of the train while the rest of it was searched. The logic of stopping things leaving the country was lost on me. I thought customs were more concerned with what came in.
Whatever the Americans did or did not find, the Canadian customs removed two people, one of them in handcuffs. And then we were back on our way, later than ever thanks to the US customs. The rest of the journey, which we had chosen to see some of the scenery, was now in darkness. Thank you US customs. Thank you very much.
Maria was beginning to be badly missed as moving around with all the cumbersome baggage was getting irritating, and worse still, thanks to various elevators/lifts being broken along our carefully prepared route, we often had to briefly abandon various pieces of luggage as we took stairs and escalators instead. Thankfully nothing went astray.
Toronto itself… Well the company was nice and to be fair to Toronto, it was them we came to visit, not the city. It felt like our first real chance to relax, and the walking/exploring was nowhere near as energetic as New York or Buffalo. Scott, Beckah and Rob were good company and the weekend passed quickly and proved to be very relaxing, allowing us to recuperate.
5am up and out by 6am, through the underground, onto the bus and in plenty of time so we thought. There was a long queue for checking in, then another long queue to have your baggage checked, then another long queue to get into another queue to get through customs and immigration. Thankfully we had already decided our luggage was too unbalanced and purchased a rucksack to help spread the load. Even then it turned out one of our bags was 3 kilos over the weight allowance. We managed to spread things out even more and barely scraped in under the weight limit of 23 kilos (50 pounds). That aside, the time spent queuing almost made us miss our flight. Luckily an official went around checking peoples’ boarding times and we were ushered through the crowd and straight to the front of the queue for immigration. Then it was just a rush to the plane, hoping that was the last time we would have to go through quite as much aggravation to get to any of our destinations.
Saint Louis probably deserved more than a single day, but it was just a stopover for us and a chance to meet another of Leni’s friends from the past. Staying at Cheshire Lodge had its charm; a mock Tudor mansion containing an eccentric collection of furniture, most of which was nowhere near the Tudor period. All we did was relax and met up with Jason for dinner at a brewery and a lunch the following day at a Mexican café. Coming up to 2pm our host for the next stage of our journey arrived and with our goodbyes said we drove off to Walnut Hill.
Walnut Hill was a sprawling but tiny collection of houses, the population coming in at less than 200 people. Our host, Arthur, explained that Walnut Hill was named after a cluster of trees on the upside of one of the dips there, the area not really having any real hills. For some reason, prior to our arrival I had in mind some kind of tiny wild-western style deserted town complete with tumbleweed. It was basically farmland with houses stuck at intervals between fields. If you wanted anything you took a trip into nearby Centralia or to its super-sized Walmart.
It was nice to arrive at a destination feeling relatively fresh. The house we were staying at was large but inside everything was in preparation for the camping trip to Otter Creek. Matilda didn’t care and was only interested in chasing their three cats, one of which was kind enough to let her play with it and even came back for more.
It would be fair to say that Arthur is a gun enthusiast, and he likes his blades as well, having the tools to make them and their sheathes (as well as a multitude of other leather goods). Thankfully the place had been made gun safe for Matilda, so that there was nothing lethal within reach. Still, it was strange being around so many weapons. I was even given a tour of some of them. I have to admit, nice as they are, and they are, the feel of a gun in the hand is an odd thing to me. More bizarre is how toy like so many of them look which makes me wonder if the toys of my youth were not a bit too life-like. The weight though, that’s the giveaway. A fully loaded gun is just heavy, solid and very, very real.
Early on we were warned that the previous owner of the house was paranoid about the risk of fire and had hardwired a very sensitive alarm system in to the mains. The upshot of it was that if you had a shower and a little too much steam escaped and hit the sensors outside the bathroom then the alarm would go off and only shut off once things had cooled down again. Further to this there was also an alarm wired into the propeller used to agitate the sewage in the cesspit, so that if for any reason it stopped moving another alarm would blare out until the propeller was moving again. If this required an engineer you could be in for an irritating wait. Disappointingly (well, a little) neither alarm went off during our stay.
Outside the house it was just fields, a highway, a large pond to the rear, and more fields with the odd house in the distance. The grass was alive with locusts and crickets, and we were told there were plenty of vermin in the form of rats, possums and skunks, as well as deer, coyotes and, on the day we arrived at least, vultures. While we did see a great many of these creatures, the only live ones were a pair of deer far off in the distance that we saw from a car as we drove back from Walmart, and a skunk that decided to spray its scent all over the outside of the house in response to a warning shot to scare it off. Everything else was road kill. We were told that rattlesnakes and the brown recluse spider were the only things to be wary of, but we didn’t see any of those either. However, we came to see our hosts, not the wildlife, and they were far more interesting than any mere four legged or slithering critter.
Arthur is the head of an offshoot, the Arthurians, of one of the American Gardinarian families, any offshoot themselves becoming a ‘family’. For want of a better word, he’s a witch. So is his wife. So are many of his friends. The American Gardinarians are a dysfunctional ‘family’, also witches, who have allowed feminism to take control of what was their pagan religion. At some point in the future the balance will swing back or they will fail, but that’s a subject beyond the scope of this letter.
And did I mention cats? Three of them. Nice creatures but their temperament has little bearing on our allergies. Surprisingly, I was relatively unaffected but Leni, well we knew there would be cats so we came prepared. Matilda, completely unaffected by allergies, loved the cats. Loved them all over the house with extreme shrieking and diabolical laughter. Poor things.
Our second day began with shopping for last minute supplies at the Walmart, as big a shop as I have ever seen, perhaps the biggest. Then we were packed and waiting for more arrivals for the trip to Otter Creek. By the evening the house was empty of equipment and full of people. The day wore on, people made last minute preparations, and we all went to bed early. With that another day turned the corner and then came Otter Creek.
Otter Creek lies just inside Kentucky over the Illinois border. It’s a fairly big park that borders Fort Knox, and sometimes you’ll even come across black clad soldiers at night on training manoeuvres, especially if they are lost. Similarly it’s not uncommon to see black helicopters roaming the skies either. The park itself is divided up into various camping sites, some for tents, others with cabins, activity centres, a children’s zoo (I think) and other points of interest for the curious outwardly bound. There’s wildlife too, although aside from the back of the kitchen which was covered in spiders, I saw nothing more than a deer and fawn all weekend.
While Otter Creek is good for camping, there was purpose to the trip beyond getting back to nature and that was a gathering of the ‘family’. While they see each other on and off, there is only the one time of the year that they all try and get together in the one place, and hopefully to perform what rituals they will. As an outsider to any form of religion, my perspective is one of spectator, where allowed, and over the weekend my eyes were opened, especially to the prejudice and infighting amongst the Gardinarians as a whole, but also to the structure, form and function of a Arthur’s ‘family’ itself.
From my point of view the weekend was about stories, mostly those tales being told during meals around the dinner table and in the kitchen but more so those around the fire outdoors during the evenings. While I enjoyed every moment of every conversation I had with all the people that deigned to speak with me, I have to make special mention of Randy who comes across as just the most well disposed good ol’ boy. Redneck as far as you can throw him, he really was a great guy. I have only good things to say about everybody that was there, even the people who snored on the second night and forced us to sleep in the kitchen.
I heard a lot of things about a lot of people that coloured them all and made them deeper and more interesting as the weekend wore on. I’ll treasure the tales but they aren’t mine to tell, so their story ends here.
But back to the camp. As it was coming up to Halloween there was a camp next to ours that was running some kind of Halloween trail though the woods and past certain creepy looking lodges. The night air was filled with screams(as much as laughter) and the sound of chainsaws and other chilling things. I say chilling but it was all just noise. I think if you want scary, just turn all the lights off, keep dead still and just listen to the sounds of the woods. If you’ve ever seen The Evil Dead your spine will soon start to freeze.
Matilda just enjoyed running around a lot and attempting (successfully) to charm all of the others with us at the camp. I think she even managed to learn a few of their names before we left.
Leni came away with a different experience as I did not attend the circle (an Arthurian as well as Gardinarian tradition), and attended and completed a basic Reiki practitioner course that Angie was giving. We did both get a full body massage from Debbie, who is in training to become a masseuse. I felt like I was melting and being put back together. I think she undid all the damage from the walking around New York and the carrying around of the luggage.
And then all too soon it was over. There was plenty more of Otter Creek to explore and I wished we had had longer, but that was that and after our goodbyes we were on our way back to Walnut Hill.
Including Leni, Matilda and myself there were still 10 of us when we returned to Walnut Hill, and people would come and go over the course of the remainder of our stay there. Despite having nearly a week still to go it began to feel like the end of the trip was upon us. In a way I was right.
The time for us to depart and travel onto Chicago. Again, via Amtrak, which I have to say is the best rail service I’ve ever been on. Rail services around the world could learn a lot from Amtrak staff’s professional attitude. They were the most helpful and polite rail employees I’ve ever seen.
Arriving on time, we had to manage with all of the luggage on our own once again. On the flat it’s fine, albeit heavy. Elevators were our friends but in far too many stations they were out of service. Stairs become the only way and then we have to shuttle back and forth with Matilda first and then what we can manage, hoping that nothing goes missing while it’s out of sight while at the same time secretly wishing that someone would take the f***ing heavy bags off of us.
Since we were flying out to New York for the final leg of our journey home we took a hotel near the airport. Finding it was easy and soon enough we were in the lap of luxury. Somewhere a little better for some real relaxation and to pamper ourselves a bit.
As usual the first day was all but over by the time we got everything settled. Matilda’s sleeping pattern meant that we were bound to the hotel in the evening. With a decent bar, swimming pool, spa and sauna it was something we could put up with. The first night though, we just fell asleep. The following day we were gorging at the breakfast bar and out to tramp up and down the mean mile and so on and so forth. More walking. You would think we had done enough. One toe on my left foot was numb and the ankle on the other foot barely supported me.
Chicago is a nice place. But after so many nice buildings, pretty buildings, tall building, you get the picture. So what they had Sears Tower, at this stage of the trip it’s just another big building. We went through downtown, down to the aquarium which we did not go into on account of the giant queue, decided against taking the water taxi to the Navy Pier and elected to walk instead, a decision we’d come to regret. The distance from the aquarium to the pier did not look that far. I think if anything life has taught me it’s that my judgement when estimating anything is next to useless. Add the freezing cold wind coming off the lake and you had a happy walk all the way to the Chicago river, where thanks to some works in progress we couldn’t take the bridge over to continue to the pier. More walking. We eventually ended up back where we began the day where we could finally cross the river (remember we had Matilda in a pushchair) and then walk back along and down to the lakefront and finally onto the pier. I forget how many hours my decision not to take the water taxi cost us. Along the way we found some nice pizza, well, it tasted nice. It’ll all be clear in a moment.
The pier was nice with a whole lot to do even in the off season. Clearly set up to provide all kinds of boat trips and tours, the main building of the pier was all that was open, housing museums (stained glass and a children’s toy museum), all kinds of shops both food and retail, and even various conference halls. There was a history of Chiacgo on placards throughout the place that made interesting reading, a Ben & Jerry’s for a welcome ice cream for Matilda and a mint choc chip ice cream milkshake for us.
Back out on top of the pier to the fair ground where Matilda began to get a bit hyper and clearly wasn’t going to be interested in staying put on the big wheel for the amount of time it took to go around. Tomorrow would be another day and another chance to take it, hopefully a bit earlier in the day.
WRONG.
Back at the hotel we watched Wall-E and put Matilda to bed. Exhausted as usual, we turned in and looked forwards to a more targeted approach to the following day.
Around 2am I woke up, felt ill and my body decided to cramp and try to twist my insides into a tight little ball. I threw up. Twice. Was that it? I felt better. Then my insides tightened again and that was it, I was stuck in the bathroom for the rest of the night and large chunks of the following day. When I wasn’t in the bathroom I was either laying on the sofa or in the bed. Food poisoning just isn’t pretty. It gets to the point where you don’t care any more, you just let your body do what it has to do and hope it will pass in time for the flight to New York. Leni would join me though her illness was far less severe. Thankfully Matilda avoided it completely.
Was it the breakfast? That complimentary banana and strawberry smoothie? The pizza? Ben and Jerry’s mint choc chip ice cream milkshake? It’s easy to point the finger at the last thing we ate, but looking back on the disaster of a diet we had been eating since we had arrived in America, topped off with gallons of coffee and containing more sugar that we would normally eat in a year, our sickness was an accident waiting to happen.
After a day and a half of being ill and feverish, I began to feel like I was recovering. It killed our last full day in Chiacgo. Even hotel bound there was no way to enjoy anything there. Couldn’t even watch a movie for falling asleep all the time through sheer exhaustion. And we still had the fun of getting through another airport with all of our luggage to look forwards to.
I don’t know how we managed it but we did. The shuttle to the airport helped enormously, and being dropped off right outside our check-in desk meant that we had very little carrying to do. Arriving early meant we had all the time in the world to make our way to the plane. The trip went as smoothly as any of them. Alas for my Chicago break, perhaps another time.
Newark was just a stopover to make sure that we had a whole day in which to get from Chicago to New York, so that we didn’t have an insane rush or even the possibility of missing our final flight home, barring some major unforeseen problem (like food poisoning perhaps?). The best thing about our stay there turned out to be when we saw a cop on a horse gallop after a car to pull them over. Why I don’t know, but watching a horse gallop through traffic like that was mad. Even our cab driver was impressed.
The Robert Treat hotel looked nice, but the area was lousy. The hotel staff even recommended not going out after dark. Venture out we did though, and I have to say that downtown Newark is interesting in its own way. Very different to anywhere we had been before, akin perhaps to Borough Hill in a sense but this time the area was predominantly lower class African American. Gangs and groups of people lined the streets as people wound their way around them going to and from work. Their yelled language was as far from American English as Canadian French is from what’s spoken in Paris. I can understand that people could feel threatened, especially after dark. All the area seemed to have though was thrift stores, bargain centres and the like. As far as window shopping or finding a mart went, forget it. Returning to the hotel felt like we were closing the book on our trip. I had to admit, I was done with America.
Back at the airport we put our bags through checking one last time and then we were through and waiting in the lounge. And that was it. Suddenly we were on a plane and taking off, saying goodbye to the US of A.
The trip was enjoyable but at the same time I felt like I had only looked and not done. While I don’t particularly enjoy treading over the same ground twice, there’s a lot more for New York and Chicago in particular to offer, and I would like to see plenty of the people we met on our trip again.
Stepping out of Bergen Airport to breathe the crisp fresh Norwegian air never felt so good. We were home. Everything was relaxed and uncomplicated. It really was good to be back.
Appendix A
But…
Q. How long were you away for?
A. 31 days. Too long in my opinion. Two weeks and more trips would be better, though if we had less to have to go back to then maybe the time wouldn’t be an issue.
Q. How much travelling was there?
A. Including time spent where we were exhausted and recovering from travelling, 9 days in total. Too much in one month.
Q. What did you do for Halloween?
A. We were worried that we wouldn’t be doing anything, but obligingly our bodies put on a horror show of their own the day afterwards.
Q. Do witches really dance around naked in the woods?
A. Not in the cold weather and definitely not without socks. People unfamiliar with pagan traditions generally find the idea titillating, which is why there’s so much curiosity surrounding it. The complete and absolute answer is that the weather was colder by then. Make of that what you will.
Q. Where’s all the wild parties and scandal???
A. Alas the constraints Matilda places on us has turned us into responsible parents. You’ll have to wait until she’s a bit older for things to get that kind of interesting again.
Q. What do you think Matilda made of it all?
A. She loved it. It also gave her a love of cats. What she will remember though, that may only come from our stories and photographs.
Q. You talk about a sugar filled diet. How much weight did you gain?
A. Thanks to both the exercise we got from all the walking and carrying of luggage, running after and playing with Matilda, and food poisoning, we both found that we had lost weight on our return.
Appendix B: The US Presidential Election
I left mention of the election to the end to condense the experiences we had into one meaningful section. From the moment we stepped off the plane the election was the subject of choice wherever you went. Every area we visited, every place we went to, every coffee shop, café, diner, shop, house and so on there were conversations to be eavesdropped. Surprisingly we got very little from our taxi drivers, most of who were generally concerned with finding out where the hell they were supposed to be going.
Coffee shops and cafes were the best where the conversations changed with the locale. New York was so hectic it was hard to keep a single conversation in earshot, while Buffalo was more laid back and full of students and ‘intellectuals’ who were intent on discussing Palin’s and McCain’s beauty or lack of. Everywhere and everybody had something to say.
Perhaps half of the television stations had saturation coverage, though each clearly had their own agenda and portrayed the candidate and news of their choice the way they wanted to; generally split four ways between Obama, McCain, Palin and Joe the Plumber. I can count on one hand the number of times I heard the name of Biden in the month we were there. Studio coverage was at best odious, with commentators attacking all aspects and manner of the ‘other’ candidates. I’ve always felt that in a negative campaign you’ve lost if all you can do is try to denigrate your opponent instead of extol the virtues of your own.
Queerest of all was the ‘fear’. In interviews, so many people expressed their fear of one candidate or another getting into office. The negative propaganda being blitzed into homes at every opportunity was close to something from pre-war Nazi Germany in places, with sheer scaremongering the order of the day. No wonder people ‘feared’ one candidate or another.
I don’t really understand how people can get behind the political process as much as people do in America. But they do. People accosted us on the street all over asking us to take badges or register our interest and so on. People had signs and placards up everywhere proclaiming their support for a candidate. And the parties themselves push the most punishing schedule on their candidates. Does it really matter if McCain turns up in Iowa for 25 minutes to give a speech, wave and fly onto his next six appointments around the country for that day? Does the voter really not care enough about the issues that they will only vote if the parties inflict this barrage of campaigning upon them?
I just don’t get it.
