They say traffic in Los Angeles is horrible. I can tell you it’s not just a myth, it’s true. It takes an hour to get anywhere in LA by car. And car is the only way to go. LA is very spread out, and in between the different places you would like to go to is nothing but streets filled with cars almost standing still.
Anyhow, we had a good time in LA. Mascha hosted us in Westwood, one of the nicer areas of LA, with cute cafés and interesting stores. Mascha, and her boyfriend JD, seem to know everybody in LA. So of course, we were invited to various parties. The private party with Linkin Park, somewhere in Hollywood, was good – it’s not every day I go to a party with open bar and a chocolate fountain. That was as close as we got to celebrity-spotting. Although we also got to know a couple of days later, that Paris Hilton was at the party we didn’t go to. Mascha’s friend talked to her all night, and she was very nice, he says.
Selling the car didn’t go all that well. We did find one sketchy car dealer who wanted to give us a small amount of money for the car, but we were too stubborn and didn’t accept his offer. Instead, after having driven Anton to the airport, I went to the Salvation Army and gave the car away. With no Anton and no car, the road-trip was over.
It seems that everybody in LA is very much into all kinds of new-age stuff. There are raw-food organic vegan Buddhist people all over. So it seemed like the proper finale of my LA stay to go to yoga with Mascha. I boarded the flight to NY dehydrated, but the stewardesses were happy to serve me one drink after the other, so all was good.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
California dreaming
Going through north-eastern California, we were not really able to enjoy the national parks. Possibly because of still being tired from Vegas, possibly because of being sick and tired of desert. Ok, Yosemite is not really desert, but mountains and trees. But it’s still wasteland. Coming into the San Francisco area, with highways and skyscrapers and other man-made stuff, was beautiful.
From San Francisco, we went down highway 1 (which is about as nice as they say it is) to San Diego, where we were greeted by Shannon and her three (or two, or four – who knows) roommates in a funky house-like apartment in La Jolla, a fancy beach community type thing. Two intense days followed. To maximize the contrast to the snowboarding of the beginning of the trip, we went to the ocean to surf. I managed to stand up on the surf board twice. Too bad it was not really on a wave. Instead, the waves thought it would be fun to throw me around like a rag doll. The whole thing was not made easier by the party at Shannon’s the day before. Being better at partying than surfing, we were invited to an all American frat-like theme party that night, which was great fun. The theme was Around the world, and obviously, me and Anton dressed up as Swedes.
Leaving San Diego for Los Angeles, we realized that this was the very last time on the trip that we were on our way to a new, unknown destination. It is sad that this trip is coming to an end. I think we both feel that we could do this for another month or two. But it will also be nice to get back to Sweden and meet everybody there. I wonder if these months have gone by as fast in Sweden as they have here.
Now, it’s time for those last days in LA.
From San Francisco, we went down highway 1 (which is about as nice as they say it is) to San Diego, where we were greeted by Shannon and her three (or two, or four – who knows) roommates in a funky house-like apartment in La Jolla, a fancy beach community type thing. Two intense days followed. To maximize the contrast to the snowboarding of the beginning of the trip, we went to the ocean to surf. I managed to stand up on the surf board twice. Too bad it was not really on a wave. Instead, the waves thought it would be fun to throw me around like a rag doll. The whole thing was not made easier by the party at Shannon’s the day before. Being better at partying than surfing, we were invited to an all American frat-like theme party that night, which was great fun. The theme was Around the world, and obviously, me and Anton dressed up as Swedes.
Leaving San Diego for Los Angeles, we realized that this was the very last time on the trip that we were on our way to a new, unknown destination. It is sad that this trip is coming to an end. I think we both feel that we could do this for another month or two. But it will also be nice to get back to Sweden and meet everybody there. I wonder if these months have gone by as fast in Sweden as they have here.
Now, it’s time for those last days in LA.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Mormons and gambling
The ride through the mountains of Colorado, on the way to Utah, was spectacular. We stayed for lunch in Vail, and it was not hard to see why this is a popular destination for American ski tourists. All you had to do was to imagine lots of snow. Once we crossed the border to Utah, all the beauty disappeared. What we were left with was flat and boring semi-desert for miles and miles and miles. It took us two hours of driving before we saw anything man-made (except for the road). It was a shed. Following our new tradition of going to Sunday church, we found our way to a Mormon service, which was just as boring as the rest of Utah. Although it must be said that the Mormons were friendly to us.
One might think that we would be tired of desert, and just flee the Mormons and go straight for the west coast. We didn’t. Instead we went south to Arizona. Our waitress in Vail had recommended the little town of Sedona, Arizona, where, supposedly, some energy lines cross which soothes your soul. We saw nothing of the energy lines, but we did, again, see some spectacular nature. The mountain/canyon/desert combination, some say, even beats the Grand Canyon. For the first time, we couchsurfed with a family: two parents and two kids. We never really figured out which kid had which parent, if they had any kids together, or if any of them had any other kids. But we had a great time with them in their kind of big Sedona house with a backyard well suited for hamburger grilling.
The Grand Canyon was cool. But not as cool as going in a helicopter. I might have to buy one of those when I get really, really rich.
Las Vegas is probably the first destination on our trip that met, or ever exceeded, my expectations. It was everything it sets out to be. I think I spent some thirty hours by black jack tables in a bunch of different casinos, and it is the most pleasant experience. Free drinks are served, so what you’re actually doing is to sit around a table, play a game and talk with total strangers from all over the US (and the world) over a drink or two or three. I guess that it’s less fun if you lose money, though.
One might think that we would be tired of desert, and just flee the Mormons and go straight for the west coast. We didn’t. Instead we went south to Arizona. Our waitress in Vail had recommended the little town of Sedona, Arizona, where, supposedly, some energy lines cross which soothes your soul. We saw nothing of the energy lines, but we did, again, see some spectacular nature. The mountain/canyon/desert combination, some say, even beats the Grand Canyon. For the first time, we couchsurfed with a family: two parents and two kids. We never really figured out which kid had which parent, if they had any kids together, or if any of them had any other kids. But we had a great time with them in their kind of big Sedona house with a backyard well suited for hamburger grilling.
The Grand Canyon was cool. But not as cool as going in a helicopter. I might have to buy one of those when I get really, really rich.
Las Vegas is probably the first destination on our trip that met, or ever exceeded, my expectations. It was everything it sets out to be. I think I spent some thirty hours by black jack tables in a bunch of different casinos, and it is the most pleasant experience. Free drinks are served, so what you’re actually doing is to sit around a table, play a game and talk with total strangers from all over the US (and the world) over a drink or two or three. I guess that it’s less fun if you lose money, though.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Boggleblog
We had a wonderful, wonderful time in Boulder, Colorado. More than ever on this trip, I felt like being at home. In a real home. The cast of this Boulder home: Kristen our hostess, Ryan the boyfriend, Mary the roommate (or actually, housemate), Kristin the neighbour and Macaroni Mary’s little schnauzer-like dog. A typical day, Kristin, Ryan and us would cook dinner and play cards, Mary and Kristin making interesting attempts on baking banana pound cake. As it happened, there were two cakes, since the first one lacked milk, and some other vital ingredients. The whole thing felt very homy.
Boulder is a smallish college town just north of Denver, that we heard well of. Again, it seems that towns that are European in style, are those that Americans themselves like. It doesn’t take a genius to ask the question: why don’t they make more towns like that? Who knows. The streets in Boulder have sidewalks, there are people out walking, there are restaurants, bars and even stores with clothes that seem to be made to fit people. Not only real big people. Colorado people seem to be in better shape than others. I guess it’s because they’re all outdoor freaks, which is reasonable – the nature here is spectacular.
At the hip local mall, we tried to enter a store, but it was closed. We realized it was Sunday, and also that we had been talking about going to church and see what that’s like. Said and done. The First Presbyterian Church is where our GPS took us, and it was good stuff. There was music that was actually good (and not awkwardly cheesy), and speakers that actually had interesting things to say on the topic of the day (which was money – will it control you, ore can you control the money). Now, I don’t believe in the eternal life, so the pun was kind of lost, but everything up to that made sense, and was interesting.
Having been such good Christians, Kristen took us to a microbrewery where her brother happened to work. There is lots of good beer in the states, and the microbreweries is where to find it. It’s weird that the tasteless Bud, Miller and Coors are the only ones that are bestsellers, when there apparently is knowledge all around about how to make real beer. We had some of these real beers and played Boggle until it was time to go home. Never start with too nice a place when going out for a pub-crawl.
Boulder is a smallish college town just north of Denver, that we heard well of. Again, it seems that towns that are European in style, are those that Americans themselves like. It doesn’t take a genius to ask the question: why don’t they make more towns like that? Who knows. The streets in Boulder have sidewalks, there are people out walking, there are restaurants, bars and even stores with clothes that seem to be made to fit people. Not only real big people. Colorado people seem to be in better shape than others. I guess it’s because they’re all outdoor freaks, which is reasonable – the nature here is spectacular.
At the hip local mall, we tried to enter a store, but it was closed. We realized it was Sunday, and also that we had been talking about going to church and see what that’s like. Said and done. The First Presbyterian Church is where our GPS took us, and it was good stuff. There was music that was actually good (and not awkwardly cheesy), and speakers that actually had interesting things to say on the topic of the day (which was money – will it control you, ore can you control the money). Now, I don’t believe in the eternal life, so the pun was kind of lost, but everything up to that made sense, and was interesting.
Having been such good Christians, Kristen took us to a microbrewery where her brother happened to work. There is lots of good beer in the states, and the microbreweries is where to find it. It’s weird that the tasteless Bud, Miller and Coors are the only ones that are bestsellers, when there apparently is knowledge all around about how to make real beer. We had some of these real beers and played Boggle until it was time to go home. Never start with too nice a place when going out for a pub-crawl.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
There's always room for desert
West Texas was the start of the desert part of our trip. It is strange how this boring landscape can be so beautiful.
We needed to go to a travel agent to arrange some stuff, and we found one in El Paso, just by the Mexican border. In the office was Doris, an elderly American lady, who used to walk over to the Mexican sister town Juarez every Sunday to get her hair cut by her favourite barber and stroll around in what she describes as a colourful and culturally exciting environment. A couple of years ago, she stopped. Mexico had become too dangerous. Maybe it has gotten more dangerous. But it feels like the main reason is that Americans are getting increasingly afraid. And it feels like a shame. In Doris’ defence, it should be said that a relative of hers was kidnapped in Juarez some years back, and was released for the facile ransom of $30000. And that there was a shoot-out in her favourite restaurant there. Things that would scare most people, even iron-lady Doris.
Iron-man Robert and iron-man Anton were not intimidated. (Though we didn’t actually dare take our car over the border.) Our two days in Juarez offered an underground rock concert and a fun Mexican karaoke birthday party that ended in a fight between two of the attending girls. Fortunately, our Spanish was not good enough for us to understand what those girls were shouting to each other. Together with our hosts Sofia and Jover, we discretely left the party. Altogether, Juarez was lots of fun.
Outside Truth or Consequences (yes – that is the name of a town), New Mexico, we needed to stop for gas. Filling the tank, we realized that we also needed food. We had the best piece of meat I’ve ever had. Not many Swedes come to this charming desert town. Jeremy, a local, offered us some drinks, and a soak in natural hot springs. Unable to refuse the proposal, we stayed the night in T or C. They say the town has magical powers that make some people who just happen to pass through stay for good. Which is easy to believe.
There are maybe 5 roads in New Mexico. I’m not kidding. Not having many options, we ended up in Gallup, a dirty hole on the historic Route 66. We felt like staying at one place for a couple of days, but clearly Gallup was not the place. We continued straight through the Navajo Indian land of north-western New Mexico to the slightly larger town of Farmington, where we now look forward to having some peace for a day or two.
We needed to go to a travel agent to arrange some stuff, and we found one in El Paso, just by the Mexican border. In the office was Doris, an elderly American lady, who used to walk over to the Mexican sister town Juarez every Sunday to get her hair cut by her favourite barber and stroll around in what she describes as a colourful and culturally exciting environment. A couple of years ago, she stopped. Mexico had become too dangerous. Maybe it has gotten more dangerous. But it feels like the main reason is that Americans are getting increasingly afraid. And it feels like a shame. In Doris’ defence, it should be said that a relative of hers was kidnapped in Juarez some years back, and was released for the facile ransom of $30000. And that there was a shoot-out in her favourite restaurant there. Things that would scare most people, even iron-lady Doris.
Iron-man Robert and iron-man Anton were not intimidated. (Though we didn’t actually dare take our car over the border.) Our two days in Juarez offered an underground rock concert and a fun Mexican karaoke birthday party that ended in a fight between two of the attending girls. Fortunately, our Spanish was not good enough for us to understand what those girls were shouting to each other. Together with our hosts Sofia and Jover, we discretely left the party. Altogether, Juarez was lots of fun.
Outside Truth or Consequences (yes – that is the name of a town), New Mexico, we needed to stop for gas. Filling the tank, we realized that we also needed food. We had the best piece of meat I’ve ever had. Not many Swedes come to this charming desert town. Jeremy, a local, offered us some drinks, and a soak in natural hot springs. Unable to refuse the proposal, we stayed the night in T or C. They say the town has magical powers that make some people who just happen to pass through stay for good. Which is easy to believe.
There are maybe 5 roads in New Mexico. I’m not kidding. Not having many options, we ended up in Gallup, a dirty hole on the historic Route 66. We felt like staying at one place for a couple of days, but clearly Gallup was not the place. We continued straight through the Navajo Indian land of north-western New Mexico to the slightly larger town of Farmington, where we now look forward to having some peace for a day or two.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Hot, hot, hot
In Austin, we had a house to ourselves. Martin, an old school buddy of ours, let us stay in his house, in which he no longer lives since he moved in with his girlfriend. Now, I have to tell you that sitting out on the shady porch of your house, under a fan, with a cold beer or a glass of bourbon in your hand, is a very pleasant experience. But don’t get me wrong, Austin was no lazy days. I played golf for the first time in my life. I think you can imagine how that went, but it was great fun. We also played pool, bowled and went for a real Texas BBQ. Man, that stuff is good. I think we ate half a cow.
Austin has a big university. So we thought hey, let’s go to some random lecture, to see how those are here in the states. First, we stalked some people with backpacks, who seemed to be in a hurry. That led us to dark hallways, restrooms or in some cases nowhere. So instead, we tried to find the auditoriums. We finally did, and we now know more about accounting and first-order logic. We did not blend in as well as we thought we would. After looking at us nervously for the first ten minutes of the lecture, the logics teacher finally asked us: who are you and what are you doing here? She unwillingly bought our explanation (that there was no particular reason), after a short speech to the class about Virginia Tech.
Our first visit to a national park would be to Big Bend, right on the border to Mexico. It was spectacular. But also hot. So hot, in fact, I thought we might die. 45 degrees Celsius in the shade is a lot. And shade is a rare thing in a desert. Even so, we managed to make a hike in the dusk, and one in the dawn. In one of them, we had a close encounter with a mountain lion. Ok, we didn’t actually see the lion, but hearing it was scary enough for us to pick up some big rocks to use as weapons and hasten away.
As I write this, I’m in a motel room in the middle of nowhere, Texas, enjoying an air-con more than ever before.
Austin has a big university. So we thought hey, let’s go to some random lecture, to see how those are here in the states. First, we stalked some people with backpacks, who seemed to be in a hurry. That led us to dark hallways, restrooms or in some cases nowhere. So instead, we tried to find the auditoriums. We finally did, and we now know more about accounting and first-order logic. We did not blend in as well as we thought we would. After looking at us nervously for the first ten minutes of the lecture, the logics teacher finally asked us: who are you and what are you doing here? She unwillingly bought our explanation (that there was no particular reason), after a short speech to the class about Virginia Tech.
Our first visit to a national park would be to Big Bend, right on the border to Mexico. It was spectacular. But also hot. So hot, in fact, I thought we might die. 45 degrees Celsius in the shade is a lot. And shade is a rare thing in a desert. Even so, we managed to make a hike in the dusk, and one in the dawn. In one of them, we had a close encounter with a mountain lion. Ok, we didn’t actually see the lion, but hearing it was scary enough for us to pick up some big rocks to use as weapons and hasten away.
As I write this, I’m in a motel room in the middle of nowhere, Texas, enjoying an air-con more than ever before.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Guatemalamania
I always feel empty inside when returning from an intense experience. I was sad to leave Guatemala.
Yes, we left the country for a week. Anton went to Argentina to meet up with his girlfriend, I went to Guatemala. I knew absolutely nothing about Guatemala. And I had never really traveled on my own before. But I would not be lonely. In Antigua, I stayed with Cynthia, a Guatemalan restaurant manager chick, who at the same time hosted German coffee expert Thomas, British DJ Adam, and American teacher Ben. The five of us became what Guatemalans for a long time will remember as The Gang. Antigua is a cute little town full of life. The Gang was invited to have a barbecue at Priscilla’s porch, so we went to the market to buy what we needed: prawns, chicken, avocados, peppers, pineapples, bananas, mangoes, garlic and lemons. All obviously locally produced, and ours for a couple of bucks. Also, to Priscilla’s surprise, we bought a live rooster, who she now keeps as her pet.
There are active volcanoes in Guatemala, and I and Adam decided we’d go climb one. It was actually really cool. At the top, all forces of nature tried to tell us: guys, you’re not supposed to be here. There was fog and thunder and lightning (that once even struck the very mountain top we were on), and of course there was the lava. And then the rain started pouring and I was soaked within minutes. And then Adam slipped on the magma gravel and cut his hand pretty deep. There we stood, trying to tie a piece of cloth around his hand, while nature roared. The only good thing was that as long as we were close to the lava, we were warm. But of course, as we started to climb down, it got really, really cold.
The two-day trip that I, Adam and Thomas made to lake Atitlan, was far more comfortable. On arrival, we had lunch at restaurant Buddha in San Pedro, which might be the most relaxed place on earth. Big sofas on the second floor, overlooking the mountain lake and its surrounding green and lush volcanoes. After lunch, we just chilled and had a couple of beers, until it was time for dinner. We ended up staying until they closed, all the time comfortably horizontal.
On a trip around the lake, Thomas taught us all thee is to know about coffee, which grows abundantly in the region. Back in Antigua, it was time to say good-bye to all these fantastic people and wonderful places. The car was waiting for me at the Dallas international airport, and I must admit that it felt as if I had not seen that car for months.
Yes, we left the country for a week. Anton went to Argentina to meet up with his girlfriend, I went to Guatemala. I knew absolutely nothing about Guatemala. And I had never really traveled on my own before. But I would not be lonely. In Antigua, I stayed with Cynthia, a Guatemalan restaurant manager chick, who at the same time hosted German coffee expert Thomas, British DJ Adam, and American teacher Ben. The five of us became what Guatemalans for a long time will remember as The Gang. Antigua is a cute little town full of life. The Gang was invited to have a barbecue at Priscilla’s porch, so we went to the market to buy what we needed: prawns, chicken, avocados, peppers, pineapples, bananas, mangoes, garlic and lemons. All obviously locally produced, and ours for a couple of bucks. Also, to Priscilla’s surprise, we bought a live rooster, who she now keeps as her pet.
There are active volcanoes in Guatemala, and I and Adam decided we’d go climb one. It was actually really cool. At the top, all forces of nature tried to tell us: guys, you’re not supposed to be here. There was fog and thunder and lightning (that once even struck the very mountain top we were on), and of course there was the lava. And then the rain started pouring and I was soaked within minutes. And then Adam slipped on the magma gravel and cut his hand pretty deep. There we stood, trying to tie a piece of cloth around his hand, while nature roared. The only good thing was that as long as we were close to the lava, we were warm. But of course, as we started to climb down, it got really, really cold.
The two-day trip that I, Adam and Thomas made to lake Atitlan, was far more comfortable. On arrival, we had lunch at restaurant Buddha in San Pedro, which might be the most relaxed place on earth. Big sofas on the second floor, overlooking the mountain lake and its surrounding green and lush volcanoes. After lunch, we just chilled and had a couple of beers, until it was time for dinner. We ended up staying until they closed, all the time comfortably horizontal.
On a trip around the lake, Thomas taught us all thee is to know about coffee, which grows abundantly in the region. Back in Antigua, it was time to say good-bye to all these fantastic people and wonderful places. The car was waiting for me at the Dallas international airport, and I must admit that it felt as if I had not seen that car for months.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Sick in Ghost town
What strikes me more and more about the US is that there is nothing here. And the things that are, are all the same everywhere: McDonald’s, KFC, Dunkin' Donuts and Wal-Mart. Host Mark told us that there were so many things around in Panama City, but we didn’t believe him. And we were right. The city was dead. Not only is there no cafés, restaurants or stores, there are no people. The towns are empty. Anyhow, through Mark, we finally met some nice people and had a good time.
In Pensacola Beach, we took in to the fanciest hotel so far. To little use for me, it would turn out. I got sick, and just stayed in bed all the time.
New Orleans, as opposed to Panama City and most other cities here, is very European. European is good. European means diverse and lively. Here, there are stores, cafés and restaurants (which still mostly serve deep-fried grease with gravy), and people out in the streets. And of course bars with live music. We went on a swamp tour, where we saw some alligators, and we went to the Laura Plantations, which is some sort of historic site where the Creoles used to grow sugar. Not being big fans of historic sites, the plantations exceeded our expectations. Probably mostly due to the guide who knew the secrets of storytelling. Some days of jazz and Creole history later, we set off for a new part of our trip: Texas.
In Pensacola Beach, we took in to the fanciest hotel so far. To little use for me, it would turn out. I got sick, and just stayed in bed all the time.
New Orleans, as opposed to Panama City and most other cities here, is very European. European is good. European means diverse and lively. Here, there are stores, cafés and restaurants (which still mostly serve deep-fried grease with gravy), and people out in the streets. And of course bars with live music. We went on a swamp tour, where we saw some alligators, and we went to the Laura Plantations, which is some sort of historic site where the Creoles used to grow sugar. Not being big fans of historic sites, the plantations exceeded our expectations. Probably mostly due to the guide who knew the secrets of storytelling. Some days of jazz and Creole history later, we set off for a new part of our trip: Texas.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Just another week in the south
I had this romantic idea of our car breaking down somewhere in the desert, forcing us to walk for miles and miles, until we ran out of water. Well, the car broke down at a big parking lot outside a Wal-Mart. The ride with the tower was a good experience though. He was a big Nice Inch Nails fan, and I got to hear the latest album at a freakishly high volume.
This was yesterday. A week ago or so, we stayed in a house in midtown Memphis. We never really understood who lived in this house. It was some sort of art hippie vegan community type thing, where people just seemed to come and go. You know the type: drawings and poetry on the walls, some old wheelchair as improvised furniture, some old sofa from a dumpster out on the porch. We brought bourbon and nachos, and so we were much welcomed. Also, we installed a shower and ripped out the floor from a room where a new guy was to live together with a bunch of robots. He was a robotics artist hoping to get to Hollywood working with robotic special effects.
In Alabama, we stayed with Curt and Salina. Both of them being white water freaks, we went for a two day trip to the Appalachians. Day one was white water kayaking, day two was rafting. Kayaking is really lots cooler than rafting. Rafting, as our guide put it, is like running down the stream in a Cadillac.
After a night with the mechanics, the car works fine now, and it took us down to Panama City, Florida, with no problems. Although we did get stopped by the police, who thought that we were drug dealers and interrogated us for 15 minutes. Fortunately, we're not drug dealers, so we finally got out of it.
This was yesterday. A week ago or so, we stayed in a house in midtown Memphis. We never really understood who lived in this house. It was some sort of art hippie vegan community type thing, where people just seemed to come and go. You know the type: drawings and poetry on the walls, some old wheelchair as improvised furniture, some old sofa from a dumpster out on the porch. We brought bourbon and nachos, and so we were much welcomed. Also, we installed a shower and ripped out the floor from a room where a new guy was to live together with a bunch of robots. He was a robotics artist hoping to get to Hollywood working with robotic special effects.
In Alabama, we stayed with Curt and Salina. Both of them being white water freaks, we went for a two day trip to the Appalachians. Day one was white water kayaking, day two was rafting. Kayaking is really lots cooler than rafting. Rafting, as our guide put it, is like running down the stream in a Cadillac.
After a night with the mechanics, the car works fine now, and it took us down to Panama City, Florida, with no problems. Although we did get stopped by the police, who thought that we were drug dealers and interrogated us for 15 minutes. Fortunately, we're not drug dealers, so we finally got out of it.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Crazy days
St Louis was two days loaded with experience. Hannah had a tiny dirty apartment, and no less than four guests: her boyfriend, an Australian couchsurfer, and us. Our queen size air mattress came in handy. And took up the entire floor. With Hannah, there was non-stop action. She took us to a dodgy bar god knows where, where we ended up having the best time with her and her many, many friends all night long.
Odd enough for an Aussie, Will was a big baseball fan. So we tagged along to the Chicago Cubs vs St Louis Cardinals game that he was supposed to see with some girl. Me and Anton bought a pair of tickets. Obviously, we had no clue as to the rules and tactics of this all American sport. Luckily, two or three parties of people around us engaged greatly in explaining it all. Again, we had made new friends. And so had they: apparently the joint task of explaining baseball to Swedes overshadowed the rivalry between Cubs and Cardinals fans. We all went out for drinks, and met Al Hrabosky, aka The Mad Hungarian. We had no clue who he was, but as Cardinals fan Matt put it: this for us is what it would be for you to meet Péle. I even got to touch his World Series ring. Yes, he was actually wearing it. As for Aussie-boy Will, that girl never showed up so he never even saw the game.
The following days were not as eventful, and more traditionally touristy. Lousville, Kentucky, was an interesting experience. We came at night, stayed at a creepy motel where we thought we would be killed, and left early in the morning. Without knowing our general direction for the day, we went for a short tour in the Mammoth Caves and to the Jim Beam distillery. This Sunday, however, we could not do the presumably nicest part of the distillery tour – the tasting of bourbons. Illegal, on Sundays. Sweden flashback.
Nashville, Tennessee, the home of country music. Here, there are bars that have live music acts every day. And nothing else. Lucky for us, this is the best motel so far. We’re enjoying the pool, the clean sheets, and the lack of old coke cans and used napkins under our beds.
Odd enough for an Aussie, Will was a big baseball fan. So we tagged along to the Chicago Cubs vs St Louis Cardinals game that he was supposed to see with some girl. Me and Anton bought a pair of tickets. Obviously, we had no clue as to the rules and tactics of this all American sport. Luckily, two or three parties of people around us engaged greatly in explaining it all. Again, we had made new friends. And so had they: apparently the joint task of explaining baseball to Swedes overshadowed the rivalry between Cubs and Cardinals fans. We all went out for drinks, and met Al Hrabosky, aka The Mad Hungarian. We had no clue who he was, but as Cardinals fan Matt put it: this for us is what it would be for you to meet Péle. I even got to touch his World Series ring. Yes, he was actually wearing it. As for Aussie-boy Will, that girl never showed up so he never even saw the game.
The following days were not as eventful, and more traditionally touristy. Lousville, Kentucky, was an interesting experience. We came at night, stayed at a creepy motel where we thought we would be killed, and left early in the morning. Without knowing our general direction for the day, we went for a short tour in the Mammoth Caves and to the Jim Beam distillery. This Sunday, however, we could not do the presumably nicest part of the distillery tour – the tasting of bourbons. Illegal, on Sundays. Sweden flashback.
Nashville, Tennessee, the home of country music. Here, there are bars that have live music acts every day. And nothing else. Lucky for us, this is the best motel so far. We’re enjoying the pool, the clean sheets, and the lack of old coke cans and used napkins under our beds.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Champaign
After Chicago, our plan was to go to the small town of Springfield, Illinois. We were advised not to. Instead, we should go to Champaign, where there is actually stuff to do. That we did. And this place is just great! This is a college town. Fifty per cent or so, out of a population of around 100000 people, are students. The town is a big campus, or the campus is a small town. There are young, fun-loving, good-looking people all around. The bars are packed on a Tuesday night. The beers are a dollar each. Except for the studying, it’s like being a college student all over.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Canada horror
Lately, our couchsurfing experiences have not been the best. Or maybe it’s just Canada. Having lots and lots of time, and little planning, it seemed no less than reasonable to take a trip to Montreal. Upon arrival it turned out that our hostess found it to be the weirdest thing she had ever experienced. Why on earth would anybody want to come to Montreal? She discussed the matter thoroughly with her 20 year old son, who pointed out the obvious: either these guys are gay, or they are just in to porn extravaganza. As it turns out, Montreal is the Tijuana of the North. After the mandatory drag show, we finally somehow managed to talk ourselves out of going to some strip joints. As soon as we could, we headed on for Toronto.
Waiting for us in Toronto was an e-mail from our new couchsurfing hostess, asking us to wait another day before coming to her place. Apparently, she had an important day in court. Whether she worked as a lawyer, or she was accused of something, we never found out. We never even met her. She just disappeared from the face of the earth. Hope she’s ok. Instead, we embarged on the journey from hell.
Have you ever wondered what’s in Buffalo? I can tell you there is absolutely nothing in Buffalo. After having looked for lodging for some two hours, we finally found a motel. The only problem, though, was that it was being torn down. So we decided on the good-old 4 am out-in-the-street morning gymnastics, after which we stepped on it and went as far as the road would take us before it made sense to check in to a motel for the next night. 7.30, a cheerful Motel 6 clerk checked us in 30 miles east of Cleveland. In this little undiscovered haven, we had the nicest three or four days you could imagine. Here, we pimped our ride with a Hello Kitty steering wheel cover, which made the next part of our journey happy and gay. We had to leave, because for once, we actually had a deadline. Nobody was surprised that we had tickets to Christina Aguilera in Chicago.
You might also want to check out Anton’s blog. He’s even got a little map there, showing how we’re travelling. And some pictures. Here’s the link: http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog/hmmma/us_road_trip_07/tpod.html
Waiting for us in Toronto was an e-mail from our new couchsurfing hostess, asking us to wait another day before coming to her place. Apparently, she had an important day in court. Whether she worked as a lawyer, or she was accused of something, we never found out. We never even met her. She just disappeared from the face of the earth. Hope she’s ok. Instead, we embarged on the journey from hell.
Have you ever wondered what’s in Buffalo? I can tell you there is absolutely nothing in Buffalo. After having looked for lodging for some two hours, we finally found a motel. The only problem, though, was that it was being torn down. So we decided on the good-old 4 am out-in-the-street morning gymnastics, after which we stepped on it and went as far as the road would take us before it made sense to check in to a motel for the next night. 7.30, a cheerful Motel 6 clerk checked us in 30 miles east of Cleveland. In this little undiscovered haven, we had the nicest three or four days you could imagine. Here, we pimped our ride with a Hello Kitty steering wheel cover, which made the next part of our journey happy and gay. We had to leave, because for once, we actually had a deadline. Nobody was surprised that we had tickets to Christina Aguilera in Chicago.
You might also want to check out Anton’s blog. He’s even got a little map there, showing how we’re travelling. And some pictures. Here’s the link: http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog/hmmma/us_road_trip_07/tpod.html
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Technotravel
Travelling is tiring. We’re exhausted. It’s funny how vacation somehow can be more exhausting than everyday work. I guess it is because of lack of routines, it’s all new impressions. We live out of our suitcases, so we’re never as relaxed as you are when you get home, change, turn on the TV and open that carton of take-away pizza. And even though it seems like not much work, it takes some energy to plan the basics; where to go, what to eat, where to sleep. Anyhow – it’s lots of fun.
We left our Manhattan couchsurfing (www.couchsurfing.com) hosts Steve and Bill (who by the way were just the most generous, relaxed and fun imaginable), and went to get the car we bought. It’s a little smaller than we thought, and it’s green instead of black. But Ernst, the German car salesman, says it’s the same car as the picture. We decided to believe Ernst. Free as birds, we headed north for Maine – the state of lighthouses and lobsters.
We had no trouble finding 214 Bog Hill Road, where Jack and Marcia, old friends of me and my family, lives. Partly, I guess, because of the brand new GPS we bought somewhere in New Hampshire. Why did we not even think of getting one of those? Preloaded with US maps, it was ours for the facile price of $260. This is becoming such a technotrip. The front seat of our car doesn’t look very different from the cockpit of a space shuttle. We’ve got 2 laptops, 2 cell phones, an external harddrive, an mp3 player with an FM transmitter, a GPS, and an whole bunch of adapters and chords to hook this all up to the little lighter thingy of the car. It feels silly, in a way. Here we’re out to explore the world, and we have all this machinery sort of doing it for us, along with making it seemingly pointless to have left home at all. But as the old-fashioned way certainly has its charm, inventions bring new possibilities.
At Jack and Marcia’s, little has changed. The house is the same, the cows are the same (well, I guess they have replaced the cows with newer cows since I was here 15 years ago), and Jack and Marcia are the same. Still amazingly hospitable, funny and friendly.
Taking a vacation from out vacation, we’re now up in northern Maine, near the Canadian border, snowboarding. It’s a first for Anton, who sits beside me in agony. I myself am pretty tired too. So much for relaxation.
We left our Manhattan couchsurfing (www.couchsurfing.com) hosts Steve and Bill (who by the way were just the most generous, relaxed and fun imaginable), and went to get the car we bought. It’s a little smaller than we thought, and it’s green instead of black. But Ernst, the German car salesman, says it’s the same car as the picture. We decided to believe Ernst. Free as birds, we headed north for Maine – the state of lighthouses and lobsters.
We had no trouble finding 214 Bog Hill Road, where Jack and Marcia, old friends of me and my family, lives. Partly, I guess, because of the brand new GPS we bought somewhere in New Hampshire. Why did we not even think of getting one of those? Preloaded with US maps, it was ours for the facile price of $260. This is becoming such a technotrip. The front seat of our car doesn’t look very different from the cockpit of a space shuttle. We’ve got 2 laptops, 2 cell phones, an external harddrive, an mp3 player with an FM transmitter, a GPS, and an whole bunch of adapters and chords to hook this all up to the little lighter thingy of the car. It feels silly, in a way. Here we’re out to explore the world, and we have all this machinery sort of doing it for us, along with making it seemingly pointless to have left home at all. But as the old-fashioned way certainly has its charm, inventions bring new possibilities.
At Jack and Marcia’s, little has changed. The house is the same, the cows are the same (well, I guess they have replaced the cows with newer cows since I was here 15 years ago), and Jack and Marcia are the same. Still amazingly hospitable, funny and friendly.
Taking a vacation from out vacation, we’re now up in northern Maine, near the Canadian border, snowboarding. It’s a first for Anton, who sits beside me in agony. I myself am pretty tired too. So much for relaxation.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Where it all begins
Today we followed some Jews. They were so many, on the subway, so we thought let’s follow them and see what happens. Nothing happened. They just never wanted to get off. Finally we ended up somewhere in Brooklyn, far far away from
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