Booze, Boats and Trains

Cabo San Lucas on the southern tip of the Baja Peninsula was pretty much exactly what I expected, a beach resort town with a rowdy nightlife and loads of Americans. This is one of the main places in Mexico where Americans go to have fun, equivalent of what Europeans have in say Mallorca or the Greek Islands. It does get crowded but for a reason, the beaches are gorgeous and with American standards things are cheap. I found a hostel and met some fellow travellers, but may have indulged slightly too much into the nightlife and not spent as much time on the beach as I would have hoped. After a few days of this, Tony, an Australian guy and I decided to move on to the nearby San Jose Del Cabo, which had more of a relaxed vibe, however the weather wasn't optimal for beachlife so we soon moved on to the city of La Paz once again heading north. La Paz is a major porttown and the place to catch ferries heading across the Sea of Cortez to the Mexican mainland. I had hoped to get a ferry to Mazatlan but soon found out the next available one would not be for another month or so, La Paz was not the kind of place I wasn't to spend a month in so together with Tony I decided to get the following day's boat bound for Topolobambo. That night I'm not sure what happened, but something I ate or drank was not agreeing with me so the 9 hour crossing on slightly rough waters was pretty horrible. Once we got across we found accommodation and got a couple of hours sleep before setting off for the trainstation where we would get on the Copper Canyon Express.

Even if I was still feeling a bit under the weather and couldn't eat or drink anything, this was the most beautiful trainride I ever experienced, travelling through dense jungle and between narrow canyons with incredible views for 15 hours before reaching the final destination of Chihuaha. Chihuaha is famous as the birthplace of the tiny dog of the same name and has got a reputation for being quite a dangerous city, however we didn't see a single dog and the only danger we encountered was how cold it was. We spent the day walking around the colonial mansions and churches, schooled some Mexican homeboys in how to play pool and drink tequila, and then got a very long nightbus for 22 hours to the Unesco listed town of Guanajuato.

Guanajuato was a very picturesque small town with colourful houses, grand churches, theatres and townsquares nestled in a little valley. At one point this was the wealthiest city in Mexico due to the abundance of silver but today it's a quiet place, heaving with tourists. Underneath the city channels once dug to divert a river have been converted into an intricate system of underground tunnels trying to divert motor and pedestrian traffic off the cobblestoned streets above. We left the following day and got to the polar opposite, the massive capital Mexico City.

Baja Buses

Mulegé happened to be the name of the town my finger landed on further southeast on the Baja Peninsula, and the very friendly people at the busstation promised me it was a pretty place. The bus took me overnight through the desert, when I awoke I was amidst a jungle of cartoon-like cacti by the eastern coastline and shortly after the busdriver told me this was my stop. I looked around and thought again that my gamble had not paid off, but then I found the entrance to the town and the promises that had been made were true. It was a tiny little town or maybe a village I forget how the two are defined, but very charming nonetheless. I found a cheap hotel, and went in search of the beach, unfortunately this is where I found out my beachhunt had been in vain, because I arrived to find that it was a pebble beach and even if I have got some Brighton blood in me, this just wasn't what I was looking for. The following morning I heard about some nearby beaches but you would need a car to get there so I decided to hitch, I couldn't believe my luck as the first car to pass was a van with three French and Spanish hippies, they gladly drove me south and about 30 minutes later I found the beaches I had heard of. I thanked my drivers and walked towards the water, now this was more like it, white sand, turquoise waters, small islands just offshore in a guarded and peaceful cove. I chilled out in paradise for a few hours, only problem is that I don't carry the amenities to camp, so I went back to the road hoping to hitch a ride further south once more. This time I stood for more than an hour and not a hippievan in sight, so I decided to cut my losses and try to get back to Mulegé where I could maybe still get a bus or at least I knew there was a hotel. This proved more fruitful as a local Juan picked me up straight away and dropped me at the busstop. There was one more bus that day so I bought my ticket this time heading for Loreto a place people had told me good things about.

Loreto was a much bigger place, and I arrived late at night and walked towards where I had heard rumours of a hostel. Every now and then while travelling you come across hostelowners who are doing everything right and this was the case once I found Mike and Gus at Coyote Village, free beers, free breakfast, free bicycles, all the information you could want, the list goes on but hell they had me at free beer. I spent the next day biking around Loreto which had a nice townsquare a harbour (malecon) buzzing with pelicans and a quiet ambiance, but once again the beaches weren't up to my standards so the day after I got another long bustrip south to what I expected to be a sure card, Cabo San Lucas.

South Of The Border

It was kind of strange to be sitting on a greyhound bus again after being spoilt with private chauffeurs for so long but the three hour trip was not bad. We started walking around town in search of a hostel and before we had found one we bumped in to Simon, who had left Los Angeles the day before us and he guided us to where he was staying. San Diego really has a much more relaxed vibe than L.A. it is very walkable and if you cant walk to your destination public transport is good. During the days we walked around the bay, Balboa Park (which is the largest urban park in U.S.A) and took a bus to nearby La Jolla where sealions and very wealthy Americans share a strip of the coast. Our hostel was in the gaslamp quarters which happens to be the main bar area, so needless to say we felt at home. After four days we all went in our separate directions and I decided that my time in the United States was officially over. From San Diego you can actually catch the tram all the way to San Ysidro where the busiest border in the world lies, I did this and 40 minutes later I was in Mexico. Only problem was I hadn't realised I was in Mexico and had completely missed the border control, so I went back and got my passport stamped to avoid future problems, I guess the border is more for keeping Mexicans out of USA than vice versa.

The short walk from the border to downtown Tijuana provided me with more clichés and stereotypes than I had expected, within minutes I had been offered countless drugs, sombreros, tequilas, beers and women. I turned all offers down, found a cheap hotel to put my bag down and walked out to see what else was on offer. Turns out that was pretty much it just in much larger quantities, shopowners, stripclub promoters, salesmen and donkeys painted as zebras stood at every corner, and everybody wanted part of this newly arrived gringos wallet, and we had only just passed midday. I stuck to the main downtown drag the whole day, drinking in the crazy before calling it a night. The following morning I decided to get out and went to the busstation, I told them I wanted to go South and they asked me where. I had no idea so just pointed at a town on a map that looked of decent size and asked them how long it would take. San Quintin, where my finger had landed, was only 5 or 6 hours away, so I should get there before sunset. In actuality I arrived way after sunset and what on the map had looked like a decent size town turned out to be a very dark line of closed shops and restaurants parted by the highway. In very broken Spanish I asked the people at the terminal how far the beach was and if there were any hotels nearby, they laughed and said that at this hour it would be very difficult to get there, so I looked at the map again and pointed to a new destination, asking when the next bus there would be leaving. It was only a two hour wait (in actuality it was a four wait) so despite the ticket being expensive I decided to buy it and hope for better luck in the morning.

Californication

We arrived in San Francisco safely and the following morning said farewell to our trusty companion, the silver Chrysler which had driven us over 4000 miles. I knew San Francisco was hilly but I didn't expect the ridiculous slopes that awaited and if my legs were tired after the hiking in Yosemite, this really wasn't the right city to relax in. It really is a nice city though and it has a good vibe about it. We walked up and down the hills and visited some of the famous sights by day, like Fisherman's Wharf and the former prison island of Alcatraz which was really interesting and then sampled the excellent nightlife on offer in the evenings. Ideally I would have loved spending a few more days here but when a group of fellow hostellers were renting a car and driving down the Pacific Coast Highway it was an offer too good to refuse. Anna was going in the opposite direction so I said goodbye to my fantastic driver who I am very grateful to have met, without her I wouldn't have been able to see anywhere close to as many amazing sights, and somehow she coped with me for over a month.

My new group of travelbuddies consisted of two Germans, Maryam and Simon, and two Aussies, Leah and Grant. We set off in the morning and drove south on the famous highway number 1. The scenic route passed through quaint small towns like Carmel and all the way had the rocky coastline and sandy beaches of the Pacific Ocean by our side. After watching the sunset we decided to stop at a motel in San Luis Obispo which is allegedly the happiest place in the United States, and continued our drive the following morning. This had more of the same gorgeous scenery as the previous day and we stopped for lunch in Santa Barbara before reaching Los Angeles that night.

We stayed at a hostel just off the Hollywood Boulevard, the famous strip with all the Hollywood stars, 90 percent of the names I've never heard of and the whole area feels quite run down and tacky, not at all as glitzy as the name implies. Los Angeles really is an enormous city and very difficult to see without driving. We took advantage of having a car the first day and drove down to Venice Beach where all the crazy people, potheads and bodybuilders seem to congregate and then to the Grove in the evening. We couldn't believe our luck when we saw that none other than legendary Anchorman Ron Burgundy (played by Will Ferrell) was here to sign his new Autobiography, and didn't miss the opportunity to see him up close and personal. This was the highlight of my time in L.A. and later that night I managed to avoid getting a fine for jaywalking playing the innocent tourist card, as the police pulled me over and pushed me up against a wall. After walking around the Hollywood Hills (stopping for every redlight) Grant and I decided we had had enough and that it was time to get out of the this giant metropolis and took the greyhound to the fictional home of Ron Burgundy, San Diego.

Parks And Recreation

After leaving Austin we have been on an almost two week long roadtrip, I have been too tired to update, but here come's a summary as brief as I can make it, fasten your seatbelts! It's been a lot of driving for Anna, I don't know how many miles, but five States, three different timezones plus daylight savings made things even harder to keep track of especially seeing as Arizona doesn't observe such comformities. Our first day we drove through middle of nowhere Texas with tiny empty towns where almost every business seems to have closed down. We found a motel which hadn't been shut in one of these towns called Post and set off again next morning. When we got into New Mexico the landscape changed into a more rocky desert which looks perfect for cooking crystal meth in an RV or settling a drug deal gone bad, at least that's all that I could think of. That night we slept in Walter White's (Surely everyone has heard of Breaking Bad by now?) hometown of Albuquerque, which seems to have flourished due to being on the historic route 66 with motels, diners and fastfood joints lining the main strip now called Central Avenue. We continued getting our kicks the following morning taking some detours into painted deserts and petrified forests before entering Arizona and getting some sleep in Flagstaff. Flagstaff is also on the route but it's main claim to fame is it's proximity to one of the seven natural wonders of the world, The Grand Canyon.

I visited the Grand Canyon as a child almost 15 years ago, but I was still gobsmacked once we reached the edge of the gorge. We spent the whole day walking around the rim, staring in awe at each new angle, view and shade of red the canyon could offer. We slept in a small town consisting of one motel, a petrol station and Bedrock City: the life project of a Flintstones fan who has now passed away. His wife continues to run the campground and theme park, unfortunately we couldn't sleep here but the morning after we had breakfast and paid the five dollar entrance to see the park. It is always sad to see dreams that have gone downhill, but nowhere epitomises this sadness as much as a desolate themepark I think.

The cartoon village complete with dinosaur slides and replicas of Fred and Barney's houses which may at one time have been the dream of every child to visit was now completely empty and run down, the location in the middle of the desert made the sadness if possible even more obvious. So much time and money must have gone into building this and I hope it can stay open forever, I urge everyone visiting Grand Canyon to pay it a visit as it is a special place!
After this crushed dream we drove to an example of the exact opposite which proves you can make something out of nothing, the capital of insane dreams, Las Vegas. I wish I could tell you all what happened here, but you know the saying right?

We stayed three nights in Sin City and then drove into California through the lowest point and one of the warmest places in the U.S, Death Valley. We made our resting point at a motel in Bakersfield before heading up to Sequoia National Park the following morning. This is where the mighty Sequoia Trees grow and it was incredible to drive through the giant forests. These are the largest trees on the planet, not the highest but in volume they are massive with bark as thick as three feet, the oldest ones are over 3000 years old and the largest specimen, General Sherman is believed to gain the weight of a 60 foot tall tree every year! The park offered some great views with one of the countries highest mountains, Mount Whitney as it's backdrop. We drove out of the park in pitchblack darkness due to perhaps staying a bit longer than planned and got to a very dodgy motel in Fresno late at night. Things didn't get better as Anna was getting eaten alive by bedbugs so we had to find a new accommodation at midnight. The second motel was better and we got a couple of hours sleep before once again setting off, this time for Yosemite National Park. We had two full days here, driving around the beautiful scenery the first and then spending the second hiking some gorgeous forest trails past waterfalls with amazing vistas of the slick mountain domes and jagged peaks all around you.
Today my legs are killing me and it is also the last leg of our roadtrip as we will soon set off on the final stretch taking us to the Pacific Coast and San Francisco!

Austin Powers

Our streak of free accommodations ended once we reached Austin and checked into our hostel. Our first night was relatively quiet due to the previous nights lack of sleep and the fact that a giant storm swept in over us. When we awoke the storm had gone and also we had to check out because the hostel was fully booked, this turned out to be lucky as our second hostel (Yes an American city with more than one hostel) Drifter Jacks, had a great crowd staying there and a very chilled out atmosphere. I went out in search of "Franklin's", who allegedly have some of the best barbecue in the world, when I got to the restaurant just after midday, they had big signs out saying "Sold Out" but having walked all that way I decided to go in anyway. They still had quite a bit of meat left for me and their reputation really didn't let them down, whoever I would tell the story couldn't believe how lucky I was.

Halloween night happened to fall during our visit to the Texan capital so we had a big night out with people from the hostel, as I wrote before people here take this very seriously and even with months of planning I wouldn't have had a chance competing with them. With items I could find in my backpack I decided to go as "David Hasselhof if he had auditioned for Braveheart" (Nobody on the night got it either) and we had a great night. The next day the hostel was slightly more subdued, but we decided to go see one of Austin's top attractions, the nightly flight of the bats. From March to November as many as 1.5 million bats call the Congress Bridge their home, and at dusk they all come out at the same to hunt for food, in one night the group can consume up to 15 tons of insects!!! This benefits Austin in two ways as number one they have no problems with insects and secondly they have a tourists attraction as people flock here to see the spectacle.

Next morning we all got up early to witness and participate in a completely different American show as we were invited to a tailgating event. For those of you who don't what tailgating is, it pretty much means you get up early in the morning and drink as much alcohol you can possibly handle before the football starts. Hundreds of thousands gather in the parkinglots and other areas surrounding the stadium, barbecuing, playing games and did I mention drinking alcohol? I turned out to be a natural at beer-pong and walked/stumbled away as undefeated champion. I then left the group in search of tickets for the game and managed to get a great deal as I payed ten dollars for a ticket worth a hundred. Arriving at the stadium, I had missed the first quarter but I somehow managed to swindle my way in to the wrong section and before I knew it I was literally on the field, just feet away from the home team. At half time I got kicked out but again managed to walk straight to the best seats in the house, front row, on the halfway-line. This was a college football game, but don't be mistaken, this is the real deal and the enormous 111,000 stadium was almost at full capacity. The University of Texas team, "The Longhorns" comfortably beat The Kansas Jayhawks 35-12, so the local fans and I could all walk home happy in an ocean of orange clad people. I passed out early that night and the following morning we started driving further west in Texas.

The Big Easy Living

Upon arriving in Natchez we drove to the Mark Twain Guesthouse, but just as we were about to check in, Bob, a local resident started talking to us and before we knew it our plans had changed from sharing a small expensive room to each getting a private bedroom with a kingsize bed in Bob's beautifully restored mansion for free. Natchez is the oldest city on the Mississippi river, and was where plantation decided to build their huge antebellum homes more than two hundred years ago. We drove around looking at the beautiful architecture the next day then said farewell to Lisa and our group once again got smaller as our trio went down to a duo. The two of us then chose the detouric (not a word, I know) but very scenic road along the river to New Orleans where we got to stay at a friend of Anna's. New Orleans also boasts some very beautiful architecture, but in contrast to Natchez has a chaotic and boozy atmosphere in the old French Quarters.

We happened to be here on the night of the Halloween parade and Americans don't play around when it comes to this holiday. For the past month all bars have been covered in cobwebs (I hope because of Halloween) and I don't want to know how much time and money some people have spent decorating their houses. In some parts of town, particularly the Tremé neighbourhood where most houses are wooden, the effects of the devastating Hurricane Katrina are still visible but it seems as if things are getting back to normal slowly but surely. After four nights enjoying the delicious Cajun and Creole cuisine we set off again and headed for the wetlands in western Louisiana.

We went on a boat tour seeing alligators and birdlife on a spooky but very pretty swamp lake and then drove to the small town of La Fayette. The only hostel was once again fully booked, but the bartender at the adjacent bar overheard this and kindly offered us to stay on his couch. Only "problem" was we had to wait for his shift to end at 2 AM and drink all the free beer and shots he gave us. Early the morning after, after a couple hours sleep we got our heavy heads up and Anna somehow managed to drive for 9 hours finally taking us to Austin, Texas which is where we are now.

Walking In Memphis

I put on my blue suede shoes, got off the bus and made my way to the only hostel in Memphis, it is part of a local church outside of town, there was no religious feeling to it but you had to complete one small chore every day. This part of the United States really is a cradle for many genres of music and I started my musical pilgrimage by visiting Sun Studios, the place that discovered Elvis Presley among many other stars and recorded the first Rock and Roll song. I was lucky enough to be in Memphis on a Sunday, when soul legend turned reverend, Al Green, hosts the Sunday service at the church which he founded himself. The gospel was more of a two hour long, energy filled concert and standup comedy routine than a religious sermon and was quite possibly the best experience so far on this trip. After this I went to see Graceland, the former home of Elvis to see what all the fuss was about. To be honest the house itself wasn't as grand as I would have thought but it was interesting to see what kitschy decor you could buy if you had unlimited funds in the seventies. Next up on the weird and quirky tour I saw the Peabody Ducks, a very strange tradition dating back to 1930, where every day at 11:00 AM a group of ducks are first led down from their penthouse room in the Peabody Hotel before they are then marched back up at 17:00 after a day of lounging in the lobby's fountain. Hoards of people gather round to witness this short and peculiar act every day and I don't know why, but I actually saw it twice.

I had to wait in Memphis, as my new creditcard was being sent here and spent my evenings drinking beers by the Mississippi river then eating catfish and drinking more beers listening to rock and blues in different bars and clubs on the famous Beale Street with fellow backpackers. The creditcard did finally arrive so I decided to tag along with Anna, a German girl I met in Chicago, another German called Lisa and Filip a Swedish speaking Fin, as Anna drove us all to Clarksdale. I was really lucky to find somebody with a car, as these parts of the Mississippi Delta are virtually inaccessible without a private vehicle. Clarksdale is a kind of Mecca for Blues lovers worldwide but when we got there it felt like everything in the small town had shut down.

We did manage to find an incredible place to stay at the "Shack Up Inn." Formerly a cotton plantation we rented a shack which once used to house the slaves. It is a surreal place with old American cars, farming equipment and random artefacts scattered around the grounds but definitely one of the coolest accommodations I have ever stayed in. On our second day in town, it felt slightly more opened up as we had an option of two Blues clubs, the first one, owned by Morgan Freeman, wasn't quite our cup of moonshine, so we went to "Red's" instead which hit the spot more accurately. This juke joint was no more than four tinwalls and a roof and walking in you hit a wall of musky odours that are probably left best undescribed, but the beers were cheap and we could listen to a one-man-band play his harmonica and cigarrbox-guitar whilst complaining about all the woes in his life. The following morning we decided to drive south so first we dropped northward bound Filip off in Jackson as the girls and I headed for Natchez.

Torainto and the Windy City

Since starting this trip over a month ago I have been extremely lucky with the weather, with summer temperatures and clear skies throughout, bar a day or two in New York. However that changed once I got to Toronto where black clouds and torrential rain awoke me on my first day in the city. I chose to stand up against the elements and did my usual walkabout, a few hours later I was soaked to the bone but had managed to see a lot of the downtown area. There are loads of skyscrapers in Toronto and judging by the construction sites on practically every corner, this will be a very crowded skyline soon. It's not all high buildings though as the city offers some very charming parts as well, notably the hippie street-stalls and shops of Kensington Market and the different ethnic neighbourhoods scattered around.

On my second day here the skies had magically cleared up so I decided it was a good day to visit Niagara Falls which are only about an hour and a half away by bus. Waterfalls are one of those things in life that never grow old or get dull for me, and Niagara didn't disapoint either. The mighty falls were very impressive and it was a new experience to get up close and personal as I took the boat ride on "The Maid of the Mist" which takes you as close as is possible to the walls of water and mist which despite wearing a plastic poncho got me pretty soaked once again. When I came back to the hostel a delicious turkey feast was waiting and lasted long into the night as Canadian Thanksgiving happened to occur during my stay. This was a good way to end my short tour of "America's Hat" and the next night I got on a series of delayed and detoured buses that finally brought me to Chicago after almost 17 hours.

I have visited many nicknamed places but never has one smacked me straight in the face quite as quick as the Windy City. Cold temperatures and what felt like gale force winds accompanied me for my whole stay here but I still had a great time and I like the city a lot. It is another one of those cities where you walk around with an arched neck constantly looking up but whilst Toronto's buildings seem fairly modern, Chicago's architecture feels more unique and historically important as the first skyscrapers in the world were once erected here around the turn of the 20th century. I spent three days walking through the different areas, with the iconic railroad tracks and rattling sounds of the "L-Train" following me around overhead and viewing the famous skyline from different angles but now it is soon time for me to leave as my nightbus will hopefully get me to Memphis by tomorrow morning.

MontReally Annoying!

After my tour of the North-East my feet were killing me due to tremendous amounts of walking and unsupportive footwear so it was nice to get back to New York and feel like I didn't have to walk around and look at stuff constantly. Perhaps I got a bit too relaxed as I somehow managed to punch in the wrong pincode for my creditcard three times and hence got it blocked. As you can imagine this lead to all sorts of complications and after calling my bank they confirmed they could only send me a new card in two weeks time. Luckily I had some cash and could get some more off my grandfather which will hopefully get me through the wait. Due to limited choice in public transport, I decided to skip my planned visit to Boston and instead opted to use the far cheaper train direct from New York to Montreal. The 12 hour trainride was very scenic travelling through the fiery autumnal landscapes of Northern America.

Montreal is a really nice city offering a wide variety of different vibes, from the European historic feel of Old Town to the urban highrises and the peaceful parklands of Mont Royal. Another interesting aspect of the city is that you can pretty much walk underneath the entire place using an intricate system of underground tunnels. After enjoying three nights and two days in the frenchspeaking part of Canada I am now on a bus which will take me southward to Toronto.

A Tale Of Two Cities

The bus from Philadelphia dropped me way out in the outskirts of Baltimore and it took me almost two hours to get into the city due to poor public communications. Once I got into the city I walked to the restaurant where Eric (yes same one as in New York) works, grabbed a few beers and then made our way to his house. Baltimore happens to be Eric's hometown and he was therefore very excited to show off everything it had to offer. The first day his friend drove us to Annapolis, a small town roughly an hour away which was once the capital of the country and to this day is capital of Maryland state. It was a very quaint little place, with cobblestoned streets and small stone-cottages by the harbour, but it did have a slightly artificial feel to it. The rest of the time in Baltimore had a completely different feel, those of you who have seen the TV show "The Wire" will know what I'm talking about, those of you who haven't do yourselves a favour and watch it! We walked all around the city, to the dodgiest areas, where people queuing up for methadone clinics or sitting on the stoops of their houses would just look very confused to see two white guys walking down their street. Baltimore isn't just boarded up houses, drugaddicts and desolate housing projects though, as crossing one street can take you from American Ghetto to American Dream neighbourhood. Eric really had a jampacked schedule planned once more as we hung out with his friends in sketchy stripclubs, punkbars, trendy pubs down by the waterfront, went Duckpin Bowling, and much more. My favourite excursion of all though was the visit to "The National Great Blacks in Wax Museum." As the name suggests it is a waxmuseum depicting the history of the African American population, highlighting many greats such as Martin Luther King Jr, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, Barack Obama and of course the founders of FUBU-Jeans... After four days of walking "Charm City", I thanked my brilliant tourguide without whom I would have seen considerably less and been completely lost, and caught the MARC-train to Washington D.C.

Arriving in the nations capital I was surrounded by police sirens as there had been some kind of crazed attacker shot on Capitol Hill, I found my hostel and then went out to meet Preston (another friend I made in Uganda.) Of course I managed to time my visit with the chaos Government's Shutdown, something that hasn't happened in almost twenty years, this meant that all Museums and National Parks were closed, but I could still see most monuments even if some where from a bit of a distance. I spent two days walking by what is probably the most famous home in the world and all around the different statues commemorating different Presidents and Wars. Even if it is a very pretty and clean city, I have to be honest and say that I'm not a big fan. With all it's history and iconic landmarks it still just lacks personality and soul, probably due to the fact that everybody seems to have moved here from different parts of the country. I am now sat on a bus which should take me back to New York City. Arriving in the nations capital I was surrounded by police sirens as there had been some kind of crazed attacker shot on Capitol Hill, I found my hostel and then went out to meet Preston (another friend I met in Uganda.) Of course I managed to time my visit with the Government's Shutdown, something that hasn't happened in almost twenty years, this meant that all Museums and National Parks were closed, but I could still see most monuments even if some where from a bit of a distance. I spent two days walking by what is probably the most famous home in the world and all around the different statues commemorating different Presidents and Wars. Even if it is a very pretty and clean city, I have to be honest and say that I'm not a big fan. With all it's history and iconic landmarks it still just lacks personality and soul, probably due to the fact that everybody seems to have moved here from different parts of the country. I am now sat on a bus which should take me back to New York City.

It's Always Sunny In...

Getting the morning bus proved unproblematic despite not getting many hours sleep after the previous nights escapades. I have now been walking around the streets which Bruce Springsteen sang about for three days and it really is a pretty city. Philadelphia played a vital part in the country gaining it's independence and was at one point the capital city. This is evident when walking around, with signs bragging about different important Philadelphians, places of historical interest and a bell with a big crack in it. I also walked to the Art Museum which boasts one of the biggest and most significant art-collections in the U.S.A. However most people seem to opt to do what I did, ignoring the museum and just running up the staircase made famous by Sylvester Stalone in the Rocky movies.

I have also made a realisation which is sad, as I doubt I will be able to do the usual spontaneous travel which I love to do. The United States just aren't used to backpackers, and prices for bustickets go up a lot if not booked well in advance and hostels are few and far between meaning reservations are often very necessary, I was very lucky to get a bed last night without booking. As an example Philadelphia has a population comparable to Budapest, but while the Hungarian capital has over 260 hostel listings Philadelphia has a measly ONE!!!
Now it is time for me to leave the city of brotherly love and catch my bus towards the next city which is Baltimore.

ReuNYons

I'm getting very used to the New York lifestyle by now and it really is an amazing city. For those of you who don't know my Grandfather, he lives in a small apartment in Manhattan with his wife and thousands of different antiquities mostly Mickey Mouse models. Every square inch of their flat is occupied by the antiques, yet one day my Grandfather thought it would be a good idea to buy a new sofa. What followed was a farcical event, similar to the famous "Pivot-scene" in Friends, as me and a moving-man maneuvered the giant piece of furniture up 8 flights of stairs and then somehow managed to squeeze it through the apartment door and fit it in the already crowded space. Last week we celebrated Cicci's birthday, then I met Linus and Joa, two Swedes I played football with in my youth and haven't met in over 10 years, and then my friend Mikey decided to come over from Stockholm, so it's been a busy time meeting up with everyone. Tonight I will have one last New York reunion as I'm going to meet Nico, a New Yorker I met in Tel Aviv almost two years ago before I hopefully manage to catch my early bus to Phiadelphia tomorrow morning.

The Mickey Mouse Madness that is my Grandfather's home

(Half)Englishman In New York

Start Spreading The News...

I'm leaving today... Since my last post over a year ago I've gotten back into the normal routine of things, working at the same pub for 10 months before resigning to enjoy what turned out to be one of the best Stockholm summers I can remember. I also went to my Uncle's wedding in Brighton and had an epic one month long roadtrip of Eastern Europe with a few Aussie mates, flying to Macedonia and travelling up through some beautiful countries before getting the ferry back to Sweden. Now however is the beginning of my new big trip. My first destination will be New York City, I decided the date of 9/11 was an appropriate day to get the ball rolling and from there I plan to travel by road all through the Americas hopefully getting to Brazil before the Football World Cup has begun in June next year. The route isn't set in stone but I hope to be able to share some amazing experiences with you readers over the coming months, hopefully it wont be as dramatic as my last trip across the Atlantic...