Travelogue Chapter 11: San Fransisco, California,USA

Dear Readers

We aw now in Collyfawnia (as the new governer of this sunny state might say).

The drive up to San Francisco was really very beautiful and we stopped in two small towns that none of you will ever have heard of: Bishop and Wesley. The drive was quite disconcerting though because, while road-kill was a phenomenon that occurred in some abundance on our trip, we saw evidence of far more serious
collisions on the Californian interstates than anywhere else. There weren't enough remains to see exactly what the animal was but the blood splatters were enormous. Those of who how might under-estimate the seriousness of such an event, please see attached jpg [aw crap there's no attachment: it was a deer in a windscreen - scary stuff].

San Francisco itself provides traffic hazards of a very different variety: hills like you wouldn't believe (I still can't get over them myself) and *very* expensive and/or treacherous parking. Myself and Rob ended up abandoning the car on the far west of the city near Golden Gate Park (for the initiated) and undertook an odyssey of some scale trying to get back across the city by public
transport on a Sunday night. The crazies were out in abundance, and were unavoidable given the overcrowdng of the buses at this hour, but luckily we escaped with our money, lives, and innocence.

Last night we went out hustling pool with Jeremy (who I met through Ryan Portland). That was a lot of fun. Jeremy seems to be a very 'good' driver, but being unused to the hilly terrain, and indeed travelling through narrow streets at high-speed in general, I came very close to losing my dinner on quite a few
occasions. This morning, myself and Rob hauled our ailing bodies out of bed at the ungodly hour of eleven to catch our boat to Alcatraz and very thankfully our stomachs withstood the boatride over (rob was perhaps the more likely would-be thrower-upper, if I might descend to one-upmanship for a moment). It was a worthwhle journey, and while its an interesting place, the history pretty insignificant: it's a prison on an island and that's about it. There weren't very many prisoners there and few of them were of any real historical importance. The one thing that is of some historical interest, the events surrounding the Native American Reservation that was there in the sixties, wasn't even mentioned on the tour. The best thing about Alcatraz is the view it gives of San Francisco - which is amazing. It was a really clear day and the city and the bridges looked great.

Tonight will probably be a quiet one, starting the treck to LA in the morning.

If anyone has any requests for books fro city lights, get the in immediately, I'll be checking my mail at about 6pm (tues) irish time.

Oh and the stuff about bums and queers in San Fran... believe the hype.

James.

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Travelogue Chapter 10: Barstow, California, USA

Dear Readers,

My nipples are pert (but everything else has receeded). Somehow in the Californian heat of Barstow, there exists a motel pool with a temperature just shy of freezing. Enough Said.

The weather has been pretty sweet since Flagstaff. From there We went to Boulder City, Nevada, and then to Las Vegas for two sleepless nights. Boulder City was my first experience of the desert heat. I think it was weirdest there (or maybe I've just become accustomed). The air felt like you were breathing in the rejected air from a vacuum cleaner or like you were walking around in a reasonably inocuous but none-the-less ever-present fart-cloud.

Perhaps, for a city like Vegas, one should start with something like: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," but alas it's already been done. Vegas is a wonderland to the happy and a suicidal nightmare to the sad - and either way extraordinarily expensive. The 'free' booze of the Casinos and the universally available cheap food for which Vegas is for many most fondly remermbered had dried up by our arrival. Maybe we're out of season, maybe that's just not how it's done anymore. That said, I had the most amazing Buffet in the Bellagio - the only thing that could possibly spoil such an excuisite meal would be one's own gluttany - and I pushed it as close to the edge of
exploding all over the room as I could. I also had the pleasure of the company of five delighful young women at the buffet who were impressively as much martyrs to self-gorging as I was: a bunch of fellow fourth-year-trinitarians who were J1-ing this summer. It was great to meet them Vegas was (at times) a lot of fun.

I'd like to dwell a little on the ills of Vegas, but I really can't decide what the most confounding aspects of this extraordianry living circus are. I'll talk about it in greater detail in person I think, but to draw a quick analogy - imagine feeling like that caterpillar that has to keep secreting goo so that the swarm (or whatever) of ants won't consume it: that's Vegas if you just add lights and people constantly offering flyers for strippers and hookers - throw in a few zombies for good measure too. We left having had no more than four or five hours sleep for the nights we spent there - and are probably not quite recovered.

I feel like I should have more to say, perhaps if Vegas wasnt' so Vegas I would have. Now when I think about it, the novelty I can remember quite clearly is getting static shock from just about everything I touched.

Hmmm.

James.

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Travelogue Chapter 9: Flagstaff, Arizona, USA

Dear Readers,

Those of you who are still reading these emails and not deleting them immediately upon their arrival - I commend you. It is a feat of endurance that is easily more impressive than a three-thousand mile roadtrip with flatulent travelling companions. And to those of you who have long since given up - well you're not reading this are you? So nevermind.

In 'Maloney's' of Albequerque, they serve beer in litre-glasses. Like I don't feel like a mini-me enough of the time already? Still, though my puny arms could barely manage to get these herculian goblets to my lips, I persevered and succeeded... if success is measured by the severity of one's hangover. It wasn't just the beer actually. A woman who worked there also gave me a cocktail (called a punany - whatever that is ;-p), which though it was nice, was a flavour I could still taste approximately twenty-four hours later. The people we met there were fun and it was one of the most enjoyable nights out I've had so far.

From Albequerque we somehow managed to stumble out of bed in time for checkout and travel over 300 miles through the incredibly beautiful countryside of New Mexico and Arizona. The horizons were just amazing and sometimes were 360 degrees. I've never seen anything like it. The skies are so beautiful, and change dramatically as you pan around we could even see it raining in places miles and miles away. I really liked New Mexico. We didn't get to Santa Fe, but I find myself thinking to myself: "next time..." I definitely think I'll be back again.

We are now in Flagstaff, Arizona. Heading off to Boulder City tommorow on the way to Vegas. We went for a swim this morning in the outdoor (that's right!) pool - and it was really lovely. It's hard to believe that it's so warm and nice here when it couldn't be anything but cold and dark in Ireland. Or is there an unseasonal heatwave? I've actually been swimming quite a bit on he holiday - we've booked into places with pools every second or third night. It's been quite necessary as a counterbalance to the effects of greasey (over-)eating and spending so much time in the car.

Oh, and just in case my travels might possibly help some future tourist to America: here's a phenomenon you need to watch for. Most often, your toast will be buttered for you but the buttered side will be down. (I've put my heart in danger of immidiate seizure on more than one occasion as a result of this - luckily it has continued to beat despite the stress I've put it under). On a second butter-related issue, it's generally white and not yellow. On pancakes it will be in on top in a spherical scoop. Like icecream. It's not icecream. I know that now.

From Arizona University, wearing my winter shorts and sandals,
Adieu.

James.

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Travelogue Chapter 8: Albequerque, New Mexico, USA

Dear Readers,

Ok. It's now Thursday and about a thousand miles later. We've made it out of Missouri with a brief excursion across a corner of Kansas, through Oklahoma, across Texas, and into Albequerque, New Mexico. Phew.

By Monday night we had made it to Tulsa Oklahoma. AS for what happened in Tulsa, I can't remember a single thing. Tuesday was at the edge of Oklahoma in a little place called Elk city. On the way there, we went into what alleged to be the largest McDonalds in the 'free world' - 'Free world,' because there's a bigger one in Beijing. It was about the size of every other McDonalds I have
ever been in. Despite the fact that the building itself was quite large, it's capacity was comparable to the one on O'Connell Street. So I was profoundly unimpressed by its size, but what was kinda good was that it is loccated not beside the interstate but over it, and a statue of the famous Cherokee Will ('I never met a man I didn't like')Rogers (lasooing) is in the car park - because this is where he was from. Exciting stuff.

In Elk City, we went to a Karaoke night, and honestly, by the fifth song, I was still surprised that yet another person was singing a Country song. It's easy to forget where you are when you go from the discomfort of a car to a Holiday Inn that looks much like the last one. The lyrics of all the songs were gloriusly grim - from "I was drunk the day mother got out of rison" to "Papa loved Mama, and Mama loved men... now Mama's in the Graveyard and Papa's in the Pen." I was going to do "Indepedent Women," but I realised it wouldn't go down to well with the truckers just in the nick of time.

On the way through Texas we went to Groom to see a 150 foot metal crucifix and stayed for the biggest lunch I have ever eaten in my entire life (it also has a 'famous' leaning water tower (i.e. it's broken) - and despite what the signs said, I wouldn't exactly describe this as an 'attraction'). As for the rest of
Texas that we saw, well, yeah, it's pretty big... and we almost hit a low-flying owl... and it rained... and well that's about it.

So now we're in New Mexico, I've had green chile soup - so yes, I have lived. It was pretty hot. Albequerque is pretty big and it seems like a very nice place so we're going to stay here tonight as well. The chances of Dave getting a haircut today are higher than they have ever been on this trip. I still refuse to shave.

We're not going to make the wedding in Vegas, but we're going there anyway to meet some more Irish people - which should be fun because being in excusivley male company in confined spaces for long periods, while I'll not say it hasn't been fun, is of limited appeal.

Feeling zonked and honky-tonked,

James.

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Travelogue Chapter 7: Carthage, Missouri, USA

Dear readers,

We are fast approaching a It's-Monday-it-must-be-Missouri type scenario. All the Gas-stations, motels and Wendy's diners (home of the traditional-style hamburger) are merging into one - giving my unconscious mind the impression that we are driving around in circles all day and not actually going anywhere.

WE have made some fun stops since my last chapter though. We made it to the aforementioned Catsup bottle just outside St. Louis (Missouri) but were disappointed to find that the bottle itself was only about 50 feet tall. Rob spoke for us all when he said, "Well it's kinda big... I suppose." We were expecting a 170 foot bottle but actually, it's raised on a very high platform
which accounts for the rest of its height (See attached picture).

WE also stayed in the University town of Rolla where we drank a lot of beer but didn't talk to anyone except our barmaid and the woman who asked Dave for an ashtray. We're really going to have to step up our womanising if we're going to pull off this epic twenty-something's road-trip rite of passage type thing with
any dignity.

Having woken up hungover getting harrasssed out of the motel (the dingiest yet - holes in the sink, rubber sheets on the beds) first thing in the morning, we went forty miles out of our way because Rob kept singing the words "Meramec Caves" to the tune of "If you'll be my bodyguard" - which somehow made going there seem like a good idea. Fourteen dollars a piece and more stalagmite jokes than you ever need to hear later, we'd seen the cave lit in every conceivable color to make them seem interesting, and had sat listening to Katie Smith sing "God bless America" while they projected an American flag onto some 75 million year-old natural formations.TAcky though it was, and cynical as I am, I have to admit I felt a warmth somewhere in the cockles at the last encore. It was either admiration or indigestion from the Denny's breakfast we'd had in the early hours of that morning on our way back to the pub. AS a true American might say, I guess we'll never know.

Apart from a fifties-style Steak n' Shake, Springfield Missouri blows. It does, however, offer an oppurtunity to sing what one can remember of the 'Springfield Springfield' song from the Simpsons though (an indulgence gladly but poorly fulfilled by myself and Dave).

We're now sixty miles outside Springfield in a place called Carthage on the old Route sixty-six. Clark Gable stayed in the motel we'll probably stay in tonight. We came here because 'Road-Trip America' said it was a town like the one in the 'Back to the Future' films, and Rob sang the theme-tune until we agreed to go. This is the system that seems to work best for us.

We've now clocked-up about 1500 miles.

James.

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Travelogue Chapter 6: Evansville, Indiana, USA.

Dear Reders,

From Indiana, Pennsilvania, (in which we left screeching tyre marks in an attempt to flee Scott's motel before they discovered Dave broke the toilet) we've made our way, driving directly into the sun - d'oh, to the state of Indiana. What town in Indiana I hear you ask? WEll what else could it be but... yes that's right folks... Evansville.

Having been disappointed to find that a trip to a house shaped like a shoe in Halem, Pennsilvania was impractical, our first leg took us to nowhere other than truckstops and the unexpected luxury of a RAmada hotel in Ohio, which was (bizarrely) cheaper than anywhere we had stayed so far. We then went on down to Cincinnati (known variously as 'porkopolis' and 'queen city')in the hope of seeing something (having seen nothing in the previous 24 hours) and were overcome by the startling dullness, and yes i'd even stretch to say ugliness, of this famous city. So we went to Kentucky for breakfast. Once there we went to 'Gunsmith Guns' to (possibly) buy a rifle - and didn't. Funny, in the pawnshops even, you can pick all kinds of weaponry from precision bows to
revolvers to rifles. Nice place. I'd recommend trying the grits if you ever go - but only because I wasn't actually brave enough to do so myself.

Determined to see something, we made a circuitous journey through the old-time town of Madison (where we had milkshakes that make you swell - literally) and utilised a fortune telling scales which costs one cent. I am 130 pounds, and can sway many people but meet my match in the opposite sex. I think that means I'm a tranny - I dunno. We only really went through Madison, Indianna (ok confession time - I forgot what state that was in and had to irritate everyone by asking. But now it's certain - yes it was Indiana) to get to Louisville (pronounced Loo - avil), Kentucky which is the home of if not the biggest baseball bat in the world, the biggest i think I'm ever going to see. This place was also alleged to have a fountain that shoots water 375 feet in the
air every fifteen minutes, but according to a homeless man it has been out of action since 1989. But that's ok because we'd done it. We saw something.

Later today, we'll be on the famous route sixty-six, and personally, my vote is a detour to Collinsville, Illinois the 'condiment capital of the world' where they have the biggest catsup bottle in the world. Don't ask - I don't know why - but perhaps it's because there's only so many interstate Wendy's a
person can take before they can only be satisfied by over-sized everyday items.

Thanks for the news flashes from the real world - keep them coming,

Onward and sideward,

James.

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Travelogue Chapter 5: Indiana, Pennsilvania, USA (or 'What did Chapter 4 ever do for me?')

Dear Readers,

The madness. To those of you I owe replies - my apologies. I have been restricted to trians planes and automobiles and have not had much opportunity to be on the information superhighway. I'll see what I can do now - if I don't get back to you be asurred i wanted to and will try over the next few days.

I'm currently squeezed into a half-sized chair in the children's area of the library in a little town called Indiana, Pennsilvania. I left Portland on MOnday morning in a drunken, but decidedly satisfied haze. Once again I owe great thanks to Ryan and Jeremy and Kerry and Renne for helping bid fairwell to
POrtland in style with a pretty wild night and Ryan most specifically for dragging himself out of bed after what can't have been more than five hours sleep to drive me to the airport. I'd tell you all a little bit about that night but well... nevermind. Topping the thank you list is kerry who put up with me all week, and really lifted my spirits, and kept me entertained and happy at what otherwise would have been a very very difficult time. Kerry, you can expect a pretty hat (or two) in the post over the next while, you've probably seen the hat you loaned me already on the head of a Portland vagrant, and I can only give you my apologies and a promise of recompense.

So, I made it to New YOrk via Denver Collorado (where people actuallly wear cowboy outfits who are not going to fancy dress parties). It was the most spectacular flight I have ever been on in my whole life - and thankfully I managed to keep down my breakfast. I had only time to get into a NY taxi, see the Chrysler building and stay the night with Sarah in Manhatten (thanx :-)). And hit the road with Dave and Rob. A 380-mile drive got us to Indiana Pennsilvania to visit the lovely (I assume - haven't met her yet) Michael (don't correct my spelling that is her name even though it is not usually associated with the fairer (I use the term loosely) gender) - an old flame of Dave's - and over the next two weeks we're making our to vegas for a wedding! Oh, don't put those two facts together, they're not the happy couple (but hey anything could happen) - rob's uncle is tying the knot (having loosened a few of his previous ones it seems) and we're trying to make the wedding.

This has been a very factual nuts and bolts chapter it seems, just briefly I'll mention the ways in which Rob's 'value-for-money' ethic makes me happy. We got the cheapest rental deal available within a hundred mile radius of New YOrk city by taking a train journey to the little town of South Amboy, New Jersey -
where he somehow successfully stood his ground and refused to pay the extra levvy for being under twenty five, but did concede under some peer pressure to getting the collision insurance. We arrived (minus Dave who had 'other arrangements') at the HOliday Inn at one in the morning and Rob managed to get fifteen dollars knocked off the bill - and had an night-cap cigarette from the couple of hundred he bought from some native Americans because they don't have to pay the duty on them (being under their own law) and can sell them a lot cheaper. NOw anyone else who wakes up about seventeen minutes before the latest time for check-out (as we did) might panic, but under rob's exceptional organisational skills we managed to take full advantage of facilites and squeeze in a morning swim and a shower before we checked-out.

Well, the children are starting to freak me out - I think they want me to playwith them. I don't know - a lot of them look sticky. Sorry for the rush.

Signing off,
James.

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