The Feej

Sydney :: Australia

Yasawa what?

Places: Nadi, Waya, Tavewa & Nanuya Balavu.

Coolest thing I did: Sank kava with the boys at night.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: Fiji fits Freddie Mercury’s criteria for a real country as it has both a beer and an airline.

While visiting all the people back in Sydney has been good for me, I decided I needed a holiday away from my holiday. So I went to Fiji. As you do.

I flew into the “city” of Nadi but resolved to spend very little time in it. As this was one of the least planned trips I’ve ever taken I decided pretty much overnight to get on the Yasawa Flyer (the big yellow boat as they call it) and take a trip through the Yasawa chain of islands, which stretch out off the west coast of Viti Levu, the main island. I’d read quickly that this was more in the back packer style of travel, as opposed to the much closer Mamanuca chain. The Mamanuca chain has some of the world’s best reef breaks for surfing and some of the countries’ best dive spots, but I didn’t like the idea of being trapped on these resort islands with a crowd only interested in booze and sunburn. I could have gone to Bali. Or Dublin.

The Yasawa Flyer is a top idea. Not only does it wind its way to pretty much every non-luxury resort in the whole chain of islands, but it also is the only thing in the Yasawas that maintains anything resembling punctuality. When you are on an island and the only way you are aware of time is by the sounding of the drum/horn/conch shell for meals then this is the kind of thing that stops entire days passing by without you noticing. It’s also a very good way to get a look at the islands as you pass so you can see if it’s the kind of thing you were after.

My first stay was at a tiny resort called Sunset, which had one of the more enviable locations I stayed in. It is situated right on the beach between Waya Island and it’s baby sister Waya Lailai. The beach includes a strip of sand that allows walking between the two islands at low tide but completely disappears during high tide. There is a village over the water on Waya Lailai and one over the hills on Waya, meaning there seems to be constant traffic of Fijians wandering through the resort with little distinction between who works there and who is being friendly. It’s quite a good atmosphere.

I spent lots of time there laying in a hammock and watching it all go by. This is a valid past time in most of Fiji and very rewarding. You get an idea of what people do all day. The lack of organisation (and all day electricity) seemed to annoy some of those passing through but it was exactly what I was looking for. After the mad week of boozing it up in Sydney it was nice to have some quieter nights and lazier days.

My two big activities were hiking up the mountain and snorkelling. Waya has the only real mountain in the Yasawas so when they told me that one of the blokes from the village would take us up to the top I jumped at the chance. I was the only one so me and my mate Artu went around to the far village in his dingy, picked up his machete and proceeded to hike the hour and a half to the summit. Along the way you see all the hill side agriculture that provides most of the food for these people (and us resort stayers) and build up quite a sweat. I guess walking up a hill in the tropics is bound to leave you looking like you swam up the mountain. The view from the top is nothing short of spectacular, with a clear view all the way to Viti Levu and the far end of the Yasawas. You can even see the outer edge of the reef and the waves breaking over the famous surf spots like Cloudbreak and Restaurants.

On the way back down Artu climbed up some trees and got us coconuts, which he then proceeded to tap and poke holes in so we could drink the juice with bamboo straws. I expected something like the coconut milk you buy in cans, but it turns out the juice is clear and rather sweet. While we were sitting under a tree having a rest one of his mates stopped by from digging up yams and they sat there having a bit of a yarn. This seems to be how work is done in Fiji, constantly punctuated by the need to have a bit of a yap about things. It’s not too much different from us I guess.

As it was a quiet night that night the younger blokes from the village had me down to the beach where they were drinking kava. Kava is kind of like a crushed root that is scrubbed through a sock into water and comes up with something that looks and tastes like muddy water. It’s drinkable if you don’t think too much about it. It’s also supposed to be mildly narcotic but the only effect I felt on the first night was a bit of a calmness and some difficulty sleeping.

When you go to the hotels or resorts you’ll probably get roped into one of these formal kava ceremonies where everyone has their place and there’s heaps of clapping and what not. These blokes just drink it because it’s the only thing the chief will allow them to drink. Booze is strictly forbidden in the villages, which also may explain why many of the problems with drink that have burdened other indigenous cultures have not manifested in the villages of Fiji. As people do, however, if the boys can have kava, then that’s what they’ll have. There must be some need to all gather around and have something to do while they whinge about their women and the chief. I guess some things transcend all national boundaries. I started to see it something like the coca leaves in the Andes, it’s proven itself to not be a problem for such a long time than to ban it now would be pointless.

The snorkelling in all the three islands I stayed in Fiji was some of the best I’ve ever done, and thankfully it got progressively better each island I tried it on. The water is like glass and the thing that struck me the most is the sheer variety of fish that will come out to play. Every bit of land, including the reefs is owned by someone and most of the villages have not sold the fishing rights to anyone, which is a good as declaring it a national park. One of the Dutch guys on Waya went night snorkelling with the locals at night and they allowed him to pick up lobsters right off the reef and cook them. There’s no real danger of over fishing when so few people are doing it. It also means they can make a living without needing to resort to government hand outs and the like. I’ve always been a bit sceptical about land rights at home, but having seen how well it appears to work in Fiji I think I’m coming around.

The second island I stayed on was Tavewa, which is one of the last places there are resorts in the Yasawas, even though it’s only about half way along the chain. The resort was set on a point covered in palm trees and the reef came right up to the shoreline meaning you could take your fins and mask right out of the bure (hut thing) where you were staying and in 10 metres or so you were right on the reef.

Tavewa is right over a very narrow channel from the Blue Lagoon of the movie fame and for the same view as I got you could bay $1500USD a night at the ultra posh resorts over the water. Of course, there you would have had flushing toilets and constant electricity, but you’re in Fiji, why would you want all that? The food was a notch above the stuff on the last island, and with the combination of protein and carbs so prevalent I found myself with no end of energy. I climbed up the hills in the interior of the island before lunch and then went snorkelling or swimming at the beach in the afternoon. Pretty blissful stuff.

The strangest thing, however, was the streams of pumice in the water. Apparently there had been an underwater volcano erupt the week before somewhere between Fiji and the Solomons, part of the same activity that caused the recent earthquake in Hawaii. This had dumped tons of pumice (which floats) into the water and the beaches were covered with it every morning in Tavewa. At first it’s a bit of a novelty, but then you see the workers at the resort having to rake it all up every morning and you think they probably don’t see it that way. It’s also a bit annoying when it keeps knocking into you while you’re snorkelling, but it also has caused these very warm currents, meaning you can feel extreme changes in temperature as you swim along and even see shimmering in the water at the inflection points.

Sleeping was a bit hard during the night for a combination of reasons. The local blokes were working behind the resort, clearing some land most days and at night I’d be only my way back to the bure and they’d invite me to more kava in the bush where they were working. I found that after a few days on the stuff it does start to numb the lips and tongue as advertised but also sleeping gets harder and harder. Add to that the geckos chirp loudly most nights and the sun is up before 5am and it makes sleeping in hard. Still, with no end of hammocks to make up for it during the hot hours of the mid day then it’s not that big a problem.

My last stop was on Nanuya Balavu, which is home to the Manta Ray Island resort, thus called because the channel between Nanuya Balavu and neighbouring Drawaqa island is the most likely spot in the Yasawas you’re going to see the rays swimming. It’s a good system really. You hire your snorkelling gear for the whole time you’re there and when someone spots them in the water you hear a drum beating and everyone goes in for a look. The snorkelling off the beach there was the best I saw anywhere regardless of the rays, but they made it even more special. The giant coral bommies give way to a sandy channel and even though I only saw one (and only at a distance) it was amazing.

Manta Ray is one of the newer breeds of backpacker joints. It seems that over the last 5 years the market has grown up a bit and be it in Munich or Fiji, posher kinds of backpacker accommodation is springing up to meet the demand. With it’s eco toilets, smaller dorms, new bar and restaurant and on site dive shop it’s obviously able to cater for those who want a bit of comfort with their adventure. I’m glad I didn’t stay in these kinds of places all the time, as the Fijians become more like resort staff, but it was a nice change right at the end.

It did appear to attract the gap year poms who I’d expected to see a bit more of along the way. Fiji is the first really foreign destination on the round-the-world-starting-America ticket and man, do you get some freshies. It did my ego a lot of good to tell of the travels of my 20s and I think I even gave some good advice on what to do when they all got to Sydney. Of course, they will all most likely stay in Kings Cross, go to Bondi and end up in Scruffy Murphies anyway, but it’s nice to think one or two of them will try something different.

The ride back to Nadi happened to coincide with the only day of poor weather on the trip, meaning the catamaran was getting up on one foil in some of the open water. There were lots of pale looking white people and lots of nonchalant looking Fijians. I even saw one woman carry two cups of uncovered tea without spilling a drop.

All in all, Fiji was well worth taking the week out for. I saw such a small part of the country, I reckon you could go for a month without doing too badly. I may try that sometime in the future.

Hunting for Hairy Cows

Dublin :: Ireland

On being drunker than an entire wedding party of Scots and Irish.

Places: Dundee, Castlehaven, Aberdeen, Inverness, Fort William, Glasgow, Stirling & Edinburgh.

Coolest thing I did: Saw a couple of good mates tie the knot.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: It's a sad indictment on your country when you have to go to Scotland for better weather..

My first time off since I started working (a whole month ago as some people seem intent on reminding me) saw myself, Mark and Dee off to Dundee in Scotland to see our mates Ellen and Graeme get married. It was a weekend that would have been dominated by football and drinking for most of Europe, with the World Cup final 4 being a wholly Euro affair but we decided to slot a wedding in there somewhere. I have been to Edinburgh a few times before, and even went in a hire car as far north as mid-Loch Ness way back on my first out of city trip when I lived in London, but most of Scotland was a complete unknown quantity to me. It seems like we went out of our way to remedy this over four days, even if it was a pretty superficial look at most places.

We prepared for the wedding, as one would expect, sitting in the sun at the Dundee arts centre, which has an excellent view over the inlet. This also involved reaquainting ourselves with the local lager, Tennents, which I'd previously written off due to it's link to the Tramp fuel that is Tennents Super but which turns out isn't that bad a drop. After a very quick change for me and Mark into our suits and back down the road to the pub we met up with Dee at about quarter to four and our festive state pretty much set the tone for the night. The hotel where the wedding was set was a posh looking affair and despite most of the crowd being either under 10 or over 60 we managed to sniff out the other friends of the bride and groom and take up the back row for the wedding itself.

It was the kind of wedding I could relate to, very short ceremony with all the right elements followed by light drinking and heavy eating. The ceremony was a civil affair, held in a room at the hotel to the accompaniment of flutes. I had my photo taken with the bemused flute players, but I think they humored me because I was either a very excitable looking person or visibly drunk. I'd like to think the former was true but it was probably the latter. We mingled with the family a bit before dinner and managed to find out about everyone who has a cousin, child, sibling etc in Australia. In a room full of Scots and Irish that is quite a sizable number. You get used to answering questions like “How far is Young from Sydney?” with a straight face. The dinner and speeches went all well and the dancing afterwards should have been enough to finish anyone off for the night. We, instead decided to go into town at about 1am to the student nightclub that is Fat Sams. We may have been looking a bit disheveled at this point, but we were allowed entry. I think this may have been due to the fact everyone else was dressed as students typically are and we look like we'd been drinking for about 12 hours at a wedding. I amused myself by telling everyone that I was there to ensure the media didn't take any pictures of Dee, who is a star in Home and Away but I don't think it went all that well due to my swaying and drinking on the job.

Mark had his weekends mixed up so had to wake up bright and early the next day to get to somewhere in Northern England to catch flight back to Dublin in time to make his flight to Japan for a two week holiday. I can only imagine what hell that was as I stumbled out of bed closer to lunch time and was in no fit state to drive the hire car. Dee would have been a better choice, but as she lost her wallet with the license in it about a month ago could not legally do so. Instead we ate burgers and slept in the park like common tramps until I was sober enough to drive.

The first touristy bit came just before Aberdeen, in a place called Castlehaven. It's famous for having a nice harbor and a castle nearby built into a rock outcropping facing towards Europe. We had to go there to meet Martin, Dee's former landlord and our host for the evening so we decided to stop moping around and walk the 2 and a half miles to the castle and back. It was lots of uphill, clinging to picturesque cliffs and walking through fields of some planted grain, but I think the exercise and sea air did us both good. Add to the fact the almost perfect weather held out for another day and it was a downright pleasant way to spent the afternoon. We were obviously in backpacker mindsets because we entertained a whole bunch of Chinese tourists by climbing up the hill to the castle and then refusing quite loudly to pay the 4 pounds entry fee. We felt so good when we got back to the harbor we even contemplated sitting on the seawall outside all the pubs in the sun and having a beer, but sanity or sickness prevailed.

Martin did well in getting us to forget that we were stupidly hung over from the night before and got us drinking again almost as soon as we set down in his rather central Aberdeen flat. We went on a varied crawl though pubs that used to be churches, pubs that are often restaurants, vodka bars and student clubs at got to see a fairly big slice of nightlife. We also had dodgey chicken burgers on the way home and Whetherspoons all day breakfast the following morning so I'd say it was a full Scottish experience. We did take a half hearted walk around the grey granite town itself, but after years of wandering Europe it wasn't that much different to anything else I'd seen before. The people definetly make places like this, rather than the buildings. It's a nice enough town though but I'd hate to see the effects all those grey buildings have on people's mood in the height of winter.

We took a cursory drive to Inverness, not stopping but just passing through the cities many shopping centres and then down the length of Loch Ness. It's a pretty drive, but the weather finally broke along the way and the far side was hard to see due to the fog and overhanging cloud. My good mood also broke a bit due to the rest of the tourist traffic driving, well, like tourists. It took hours to pass about 70 miles of winding roads and I am now inclined to believe Dee's claim she gets carsick easily as she wasn't' looking so healthy by the end of all that either. It may have also been two days of steady drinking.

We spent the night in a B&B in Fort William, which is at the foot of Ben Nevis, Scotland's tallest peak and well situated overlooking a Loch (the name of which I'd have to look up). Due to the hostels being booked solid one of them recommended this place as having a twin room and being cheap. To call the woman who owned eccentric would have done her no justice. While Dee had a shower I sat down with the owner and had a cup of tea and decided she was harmlessly dotty. She's been planning a round the world trip for the better part of a decade but is either rather forgetful or not very good at planning. I explained how round the world tickets worked at it was like entirely new information. Explaining that Dee and I were not a couple was also hard work and I think Dee came down early to try and rescue me once she overheard that. We couldn't get out quick enough to see the football final and give her some time to be dotty on her own.

When we got back (a mere 3 pints of Guinness was all I had that night, which was a relief) there was an Aussie couple trapped in the kitchen eating their pizza with her and we decided to have a chat to them about life. They had obviously just started their traveling ways, telling us about how they were going to get away from London every weekend with the cheap flights and how they were going to save up their money for travel instead of going out drinking all the time. I remember when I told myself those lies too. They were keen for any travel tips, but I learned long ago that the best way to decide what to go and see is to just find one thing you're interested in and go and see that well. That will teach you some history or about what you do and don't like to do as activities while you're away and those preferences themselves will give you ideas about what to do next. When I first landed in London I didn't even know Big Ben was famous for being attached to the Houses of Parliament and now I could quite safely think of enough things I'd like to still see and do in Europe to fill in the rest of a lifetime.

The last day was a long one, mostly because we had to be out of the B&B at 9 so the owner could go to church. We drove down to Glasgow as it was one of the few places Dee has never been and parked the car and wandered around. The downtown has obviously seen some hard times but looks to be rejuvenating itself through retail (much like Dublin) and the building of new bridges and projects. We went and took a photo of the armadillo like Exhibition Centre and walked back along the river under all the new construction sites. In the beauty stakes I have to say that Edinburgh won out long ago, but I get the feeling Glasgow wouldn't be a bad place to spend a few more days (and most importantly nights) at some stage.

On the way back we stopped off in Stirling to see the rather impressive William Wallace monument, which is a castle like Victorian structure perched on the top of a rise overlooking the town itself. It's been there for about 150 years but obviously owes Mel Gibson a great debt of gratitude for making it a must see for the thousands of tour buses that ply the Scottish roads every year. There is even a much beheaded statue of William Wallace as played by Mel to let the tourists know they've come to the right place. It's only the locals that seem miffed that these tourists might go away thinking Will did actually look like Mel so a favorite past time has been sneaking up in the dead of night and chopping the head off the statue. As a result it looks lots less like Mr Gibson than I'm reliably told it once did.

When the World Cup final went to extra time our flight was miraculously delayed, as was every other flight going out of Edinburgh that night. We all huddled around the few TVs in the airport to watch a nail biter of a game. I will say this for Zidane, if you're going to end an illustrious football career with a foul you may as well do it by head butting someone in the chest, just to make sure. When the penalties ended there was a mad rush for the gates only to find that most of the planes were empty anyway. Seem everyone had the same idea.

Just for the record, we didn't see one hairy cow all weekend.

A bit of Vapuu

Dublin :: Ireland

How the Finns get down.

Places: Helsinki & Tallinn

Coolest thing I did: What goes on in Estonia stays in Estonia.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The Finnish word for milk is "Maito".

In a place as extreme as the Nordic north of Europe summer can't seem to come around quick enough, and moving from the eternal nights of mid-winter to the white nights of summer is probably one of the best reasons you could have a 3 day party. So myself and Mark found ourselves in Finland to celebrate what they call Vapuu, or the May Day weekend. It was interesting going back to Helsinki, as it is returning anywhere, just to see how much you can remember and what's changed since. Last time I was there was during the lead up to the mid-summer and much of the city was empty. This time it was the exact opposite.

Things were made much easier by having someone to stay with who could introduce us to what it is we were supposed to be doing. On one of the afternoons there is a ceremony when a white sailors cap is placed on a statue of a woman in the middle of Helsinki. Everyone was pretty much wearing the same caps. From what I could gather, the placing of the hat on the statue made people very happy and want to drink lots of champagne. I'm all for that. The story behind the hats isn't exactly clear to me, but it has something to do with finishing some kind of schooling, I think University, but so many people were wearing them it was hard to work out if this was a country of very well educated people or perhaps I got it wrong and the hats were for graduating primary school. The recent University graduates also wear overalls like a formula one team would wear, made in different colours depending on which faculty you were from. I pity the dudes who had to wear hot pink.

It has to be said, the nightlife in Helsinki is good fun, but it isn't exactly what you'd go so far as to call wild. We went to a few bars, which were all very cool inside (or Irish themed, for some inexplicable reason), and with a very laid back atmosphere, but not too much in the way of the joy or merriment you would expect from people who had just come out of months of complete darkness. We also went to a house party of people we were at least 3 degrees of separation from and that seemed rather tame, even if everyone was pretty well drunk by the time we got there. It's all very polite. Again, very welcoming, and good fun, but a bit reserved.

The Monday is reserved for a picnic in one of the big parks. We went to one where the people must easily have numbered in the thousands. Lots of people bring blankets and tents (which I kind of expected), but some go so far as to bring their couches, armchairs and even beds. It was a carnival atmosphere, but one tempered by good old fashioned common sense. Even when there were streakers, they seemed to get polite applause more than jeering and screaming. I suppose it's got something to do with that famous North European comfort with ones body that us Anglo Saxon descendants missed out on somehow. The group who invited us to their picnic were very welcoming, but we shouldn't have slept in as long as we did and were very behind. We also discovered that drinking yogurt and vodka actually makes for a pretty nice drink.

We had a night over at the father of our host's place for a traditional hot rock sauna, which was quite enjoyable. I don't know who was the first person to decide that making yourself extremely hot, then rapidly cold (in this case, a shower followed by beer was the method) was a good idea, but they were onto something. After four straight days of abusing myself with alcohol and lack of sleep, it went a long way towards fixing me up. The hospitality we faced in Finland was second to none I've experienced.

So we got the quick boat to Tallinn to see how another part of the world had changed since last we visited it. I last went to Estonia about 3 years ago, and Mark's last trip would have been closer to six year ago.

Two things strike you as being different this time. One is that the impact of the rapidly growing economy are visible everywhere. Last time I was there, about half the buildings in the old town were still run down and the new town had a very Soviet grey feel to it still. Every usable building now seems to have been done up, and the nightlife is starting to spill out of the stone walls into the rest of the city. Shopping malls and high rise is going up in the distant skyline and there is a feeling of energy about the place.

The other thing is that the people seem dead sick of their country being invaded every weekend by stag parties from the UK. We were taken aback at just how unfriendly many people were the second it became clear we spoke English. That definitely wasn't what I recall from last time. I guess that's the flip side of having cheap flights, people get sick of having drunken Pommy fools show up vomiting on things, getting into fights and groping women. We tried to go back to Hollywood, a night club people with Estonians that I went to last time, but the crowd was very hard to break into.

The best finds were the places that aren't obviously trying to cater to the Ryanair crowd. We found not one, but two places that did Arabic style Hookah pipes, so it became almost a ritual to sit around every afternoon and go through a copious quantity of apple tobacco. Both these places were quite well laid out, but the one in the new town could have been anywhere in Scandinavia with it's decor, DJ and gorgeous waitresses. We found more of the same in some other bars, and it shows that the pseudo-German beer halls and Irish pubs can co-exist with something a bit trendier.

Our trips out to some other clubs outside the walls were also more fruitful. One that seemed to cater to an older, mostly Finnish and Estonian crowd turned out to be an excellent laugh, despite our misgivings at the music at first. We also went back to the club frequented by the Russian speaking Estonians that I visited last time and that also seemed to have more going for it that good old Hollywood. We also learned the plight of the Russian speakers first hand, with girls saying things like “the Estonian speakers look down on us because our Estonian is so poor”, followed up without irony with “serving girl! Where are my Russian meatballs!”.

It's lucky we didn't want to go looking at churches and castles again, because most of the days were spent asleep, which is a good idea when you're getting back at around 7am every morning.

Its interesting to see places you only vaguely remember visiting last time and how the memories come rushing back as you walk around them. I had a mental picture of both Helsinki and Tallinn that was surprisingly actuate in some places, but terribly wrong in others. I'm interested to see how some of the other places, especially the ones I liked most, like Berlin, have been warped in my memory.

Closed?!?!?!

Dublin :: Ireland

On a long weekend?

Places: Belfast, Giant's Causeway & Derry

Coolest thing I did: A big long walk from a rope bridge to loads of octagonal rock things.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The IRA have better PR than the UVF.

There's no visible difference when you cross from the Republic of Ireland to it's troubled step-child to the north. I don't know why I expected something like the war zones of Israel or Bosnia, but I guess those were different scale wars. The same green rolling hills lead into the outskirts of Belfast as those that lead into Dublin, only all the petrol prices are in Pound Sterling rather than in Euros. Central Belfast is alive with the same sense of optimism and reconstruction that the southern capital is and despite softer, possibly more English sounding accents, the people seem to be just as friendly to strangers.

It was only by accidentally taking the hire car into north western Belfast that the scars of the recent conflict can be seen. In the poorer areas the police still cruise the streets in boxy, armored Land Rovers and there are lots of buildings that look more like blast shelters than houses. The murals in the Catholic areas are starting to turn their attention to freedom struggles (or terrorist acts, take your pick) in the wider world, but the old militant signs are still there. You'd almost expect there to be problems if it wasn't for the omnipresent black cabs taking tourists around to gawk at one of Europe's most recent conflict zones. At least no one seems to mind.

The countryside outside Belfast is a beautiful and green as anything in the south. The first full day was an outdoor hike from a randomly placed rope bridge to nowhere to the Giant's Causeway. It took us somewhere in the order of 5 hours of pretty hefty walking to get between the two but you do go over some widely windswept bays, overbearing stone cliffs and endless rural scenes of sheep farming. The rope bridge itself is on a dramatic causeway, connecting the mainland to a small island out in the sea. Small being the operative word, as all there really is to do there is turn around and go back over the bridge. I'm usually pretty bad with that kind of thing, but I managed to look down the entire way to the jagged rocks and sliver of water below without freaking out. I was kind of proud of that.

The Giant's Causeway looks like nothing special from a distance, but the closer you get and the more detail you can make out, the more amazing it seems. A small strip of stone stretching out into the Atlantic is revealed to be made out of what must be hundreds of polygonal rocks, all at slightly different heights, reminding me of those computer-generated fractal pictures where the smaller details mirror the larger overall pattern as you zoom in. At least, that's what I got out of it. The kids seemed to think it was cool to be able to jump from stone to stone in what looks like some infinite game of hopscotch.

The home country of Northern Ireland isn't very big. After the big walk we were in Derry before the sun even went down. In the shape of things to come, we went out with the idea of seeing some of the world famous nightlife, but found the cool pub the hostel owner recommended was shutting at midnight and no one else was going to be open any later. The place was chock full of the signs and flags of every revolutionary movement except (pointedly) their own. Rather confusingly, there was a Eureka Southern Cross right next to the Palestinian flag (“free Ballarat”?). They seem to take Easter fairly seriously, but that shouldn't have come as a surprise in a country where choosing a sect of Christianity was a definition of which side of an armed conflict you're on. When you've seen people persecuted, bombed and knee-capped because of which sect they happen to live with, then you're going to have more respect for your religion than the Godless secularists in the rest of the Western world.

Looking at those famous murals around the site of Bloody Sunday and their mirror on the Protestant side of town, you get the feeling that the public relations arm of the Republican movement is far superior to the Unionists. The highly artistic visions of slain Republicans and the heavy handed tactics of the British military make you want to side more with that side of town when they are compared to the militaristic and nationalist murals on the other side. The Unionists still seem to think striking fear into the heart of your enemies with pictures of masked gunmen and a victorious King Billy (William of Orange) and the words “Never Surrender” are the way to win hearts and minds.

The drive back to Belfast, via Armagh to see the site of St Patrick's original church in Ireland was also quicker than you would have expected. We walked the streets of a rather quiet Easter Sunday Belfast, looking at old buildings but not being able to go into many of them. I did like their own leaning tower, a clock tower in memorial for Albert, Queen Victoria's husband. The slightly droopy tower no doubt gave the wags a thousand excuses to poke fun at the man's virility, probably incorporating Queen Vic's famous line of “we are not amused”. It has to be said that going to Belfast during Easter was kind of like being in Jordan during Ramadan, you probably aren't getting the full experience. I'd been told that the nightlife in Belfast was just as good as Dublin's, but when the pubs all close at 10pm, you're going to be left a little disappointed. I think a return, just to go to Belfast for the nightlife is in order at some time during the future.

I think my favorite thing in Belfast wasn't actually in Belfast. In the morning before having to drop the car off we drove up to Stormont to see the parliament and the castle. I think it's pretty cool that you're allowed to use the parkland around the place, even though it probably was a sign of something to be destroyed during the Troubles. When you can walk right up to the Parliament building, but the US embassy looks like a fortress you can see which country is opening up and which one is closing down. It's a pity you can't even see the castle because of the fences though. I'm not sure what the use it for now, but it's most definitely off limits to the public.

I wasn't quite sure what I expected Northern Ireland to look like. I guess there was never a war there in the conventional sense, like there was in the former Yugoslav countries so the effects aren't easy to see in buildings without windows and pock-marked with the results of small arms fire. The fact that the neighborhoods are becoming more, not less segregated doesn't bode well for the future. I read that people are happier with the so-called Peace Walls separating the different sects, keeping the violent elements apart. The experience of Berlin after the wall came down or of Cypress when the travel restrictions between the two halves were removed should show that the mixing of the two halves will make violent conflict harder to carry out with public support. While the moderates are out of power I can't see the power sharing government being able to do anything, but I'd expect the future of Northern Ireland to end up separate from either London or Dublin. Unification with either will only push the extremists from the other side back into armed conflict. Surely those looking at the Celtic Tiger to the south can't help but notice prosperity will only come with stability. An independent Northern Ireland isn't what either side wants, which is why it might be the perfect solution. Let demographics take it's course and allow the next generation decide what to do with the place. That's got to be better than living under the shadow of the gun.

Once again

Dublin :: Ireland

A tale of two cities.

Places: Dublin & London

Coolest thing I did: Some of Michelangelo's raw work.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: Dublin was founded by Vikings.

It has to be said that between the two most familiar cities I've visited over the last fortnight, one has undergone dramatic change and the other seems much as it was before. After the buzz and excitement of New York I was ready to feel that same energy applied to London, a city I've known better than all others over the last half a decade or so. What I wasn't prepared for was the dramatic shift in fortunes of Ireland's diminutive capital, Dublin.

Despite the fact the airport is still under construction, as it was when I first visited Ireland in mid 2000, and the roads are struggling even worse to deal with the increase of traffic of all kinds, there has been a notable change in the composition of the city. The boutiques on Grafton Street have spilled over into the neighboring alleys and side streets, and while Chinese may have been considered exotic a few years ago, you now have an interesting mix of foreign cuisines and trendy new bars (or renovated pubs) inter sped with the ancient boozers that I recall. This change, I admit, was well under way with the infusion of IT capital when I was last here in 2003, but it is far more noticeable now than it was back then. Then other big change has been to the make up of the people. You did meet people of non Anglo-Celtic backgrounds before, but now the streets either side of the Liffey are starting to look like the United Nations. I think I've heard the term cosmopolitan bandied about more than once, meaning the locals are starting to notice the change too.

St Patrick's Day, the day after I arrived, went much as expected. Our original plan to start at 7.30 at an early opening pub was thwarted by the Guardia, who seemed to think last year's chaos with underage drinking was somehow fueled by letting young kids get booze early, so we spent some time wandering Dublin looking for open pubs or hotels that would serve us, and in the end we went back to Mark's in a taxi, stopping at every off license on the way until we found one selling beer. Thankfully, we found one and managed to being at 9, slightly behind schedule.

It has to be said I can't imagine it would have made much difference down the stretch. We went back out quite happy at midday, making our way slowly into town, won some money on the horses, lost that same money on some horses, saw about 10 mins of the parade on TV and then it starts to get quite hazy. By the time the smoke had cleared, 17 hours had elapsed and epic damage had been done to our heads, wallets and probably livers.

I was informed that I should take the opportunity to see the Irish play the English at absolutely anything possible, and the last game of the Six Nations Rugby happened to be on the day after St Pats. I can now assure you that it quickly becomes chaos if the Irish win said contents with the English. Again, more damage to myself ensured, and the rest of the weekend was understandably quieter. I went on Monday to get my legal alien card thing, which now has a picture of me in a beard on it. That's going to be a pain every time I go through customs, I can feel it.

London, well, was much like it was when I left it. I think that has a lot to do with spending pretty much all of my time there with the same people I knew when I lived there, but there is nothing so good as catching up with old friends. I'd describe the place as a few more bars, a few less pubs and one great big glass gherkin different to last time I was there. Still, it's a city that I have such fond memories of, and it only took a short time of walking the streets around Westminster to realise I do miss it. I'm kind of glad I did leave to go and try other things, as I don't know if it's a place I could live again any time soon, but I could definitely visit it over and over again. I miss that stark contrast of the ancient with the modern, something you don't get on the same scale anywhere else in the world. I think it's one of the few great cities that looks like it's actually been lived in for the last 2000 years. Sure Rome is older, but it looks like they gave up doing anything to it for centuries at a time.

I took a side trip out to Cambridge, which appears to be lots like Oxford, only less so. I can't believe the cheeky buggers make you pay to go into the most interesting colleges, so despite having a good look at lots of old stuff, I was a little disappointed in it. Still, I loved all those little niches on every building with the statue of a saint, bishop or chancellor in them. I don't know if I'm seeing more of those kinds of things now I know what to look for, but I'm appreciating the old stuff far more than I would have in all those months of traveling around Europe. I guess when you've not seen anything man made older than the1700s then you forget about how much beauty that old church money created. I'm sure the people toiling the fields to pay for it didn't think so, but we get to still see the results.

By quite a fluke I read one morning about the collection of Michaelangelo drawings on display at the British Museum, so I made a special effort to go out and see them on my last day. It's all the raw sketches he did for practically every major project he completed, from David to the Sistine Chapel, mostly sketches of the male models that would have later been warped into biblical type people for the finished product. Despite having to go elbow to elbow with the grey haired brigade that had come out in force to see them, it was well worth it. Despite the being an understatement, man, could that guy draw. I also was glad to get an excuse to go and take another look at the building itself. I've always loved that dome over the central courtyard and only recently learned that it was the work of Norman Foster, the same guy that did the new Swiss Re Gherkin and the Reichstag remix in Berlin.

So I'm back in Dublin, already having moved into my new room and having mournfully removed the beard I spent so many weeks faithfully refusing to shave off. I know it's only been about 7 weeks, but I'm constantly being startled when I catch my own reflection in anything. It looks so different and I guess I'd become accustomed to the new look. Still, eating is now far less time consuming. This will probably be it for a while, the trips are over for the short term and I have to look for a (horrors!) job next week. I've been glad I took this break between countries again though, I'd forgotten how much I like seeing the world for weeks on end, rather than days. You feel like you're accomplishing so much more when you can take your time.

SoCal

Los Angeles :: USA

All good things must come to an end.

Places: Santa Barbara & Los Angeles.

Coolest thing I did: Saw the Walt Disney concert all. It's tops.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: There are oilfields right in the middle of LA.

There is a definite border between the two halves of California, as things change quite dramatically once you arrive in the lower Sans or Santas (as all towns seem to be named here). Dramatic, sweeping coastlines and cliffs are replaced by miles and miles of mountains fringed by beaches. Santa Barbara was a very nice place to stay for a couple of nights, as it seems to be a Spanish themed gated community crossed with a University town. As I mentioned last time, the weather while I was there was dramatic, but not very well suited to the beach. I did get some very spectacular photos, but my decision to ditch the car for a day and walk up to the mission that was the start of the town was not well thought out. Right about the time I was an hour out of town in the hills the heavens opened and didn't stop. The mission was a very tranquil place, and well worth visiting, but doing it whilst drenched didn't make the experience exactly what I was after. Still, like I said, it was worth the visit, but I can imagine it's even better with the sun filtering through the palms into the courtyard, rather than big fat drops of rain.

The nightlife in Santa Barbara on Saturday night, even when spring break is on for the local Uni is something to behold. There are a whole load of bars down the main street that are evenly divided between the underage drinking crowd and the aging retiree crowd and to tell the truth, I didn't quite feel at home in either. Still, it's a great Saturday out. I managed to see a complete showing of Top Gun, cage dancers in their underwear, a live blues band and the comedian Bill Maher. The last one has to be taken with a grain of salt, unless you hate Bush with a cult-like devotion. Some of what he said was funny, but most of it was plain stupid. Those were the bits the crowd cheered the most. It has to be said I don't think there are a whole lot of Republicans in coastal California.

I was prepared to hate Los Angeles. Everyone told me it was crap and I'd want to leave the second I got there. I was called mad for wanting to keep the hire car I drove down from San Francisco and use it for transport. I'm always glad when a place bucks the trend for me. I have to say I dig LA.

I think I was helped by my accidental start. I drove in through Malibu on Highway 1 and decided to take a look at the Getty Centre, as I'd heard it's a architectural gem, and would be worth seeing, even if it wasn't full of art. Thanks to the fact I entered the car park and couldn't turn around again, I ended up giving them $7 to park so thought I may as well visit. I'm very glad I did. It's not so much one building as several, perched on a cliff top looking over the city. I couldn't help but think of it as a modern version of the Alhambra in Granada, only full of Monets instead of angry Muslim warriors. The five buildings ring a set of fountains and gardens, and that was the first time I started to appreciate the scale of the place. You look down on what seems like endless flat buildings, only broken up by the few high rise buildings of downtown and the hilltop oilfields on the other side of the city. I since learned that I was only looking at about a 1/3 of the city at that point, as South Central and Long Beach lie beyond those oilfields and behind me was the San Fernando Valley, which stretches out quite some way again. Thats the trouble with building a city in a place that frequently knocks tall buildings over with earthquakes, you need top build out instead of up. It's like the anti-Manhattan.

I ended up staying down on Venice Beach, and that too was a good move. With the sun out I was ready to see a beach again (it's been more than a year since I saw my last one) and the vibe of the place during the daylight hours is revitalising. So lots of very weird people hang out there, but they are entertaining and harmless. It's also a fair bit less gentrified than Santa Monica, just down the road, making it a whole lot cheaper too. The hostel is in the dead centre (Venice Cotel for those keeping score at home) and had a very nice cafe just down the road which made me breakfast burritos on some very hung over mornings. It was a young crowd, so I ended up going out most nights and suffering for it in the mornings. Again, watching backpackers out on their first trips makes you remember why you do this in the first place, with all their energy.

My favorite bits were probably just driving around the city and checking out all the different bits. Without a car you'd be spending hours on the bus just to get between bits (it's a good 40 mins drive from Venice to the downtown without traffic) and there's nothing like a white guy cruising around Los Angeles in a Saturn Ion listening to Dr Dre. The white people just stared and the black people laughed at me. It's tops. I liked the tattoo-parlour in a juice stand grunginess of Melrose a whole lot better than Hollywood, though I did think the Mann's Chinese Theater deserves it's fame. That building is very cool, but it probably looks like it was made in Disneyland by actual Chinese people.

I've decided the Gerhy designed Walt Disney concert hall now pips the Reichstag in Berlin as my favorite building in the world. It's a silver rose bud, and in the Los Angeles sun it is a myriad of reflections and magnifications of light. I can't describe how cool an idea it is to use all that sun to such effect, and there are very few other places in the world you could have pulled that off. Compared to the tourist trap that is the Adobe house just down the road (LA's oldest Spanish house) it also has a practical use, which makes it even better in my book. Pity I don't like opera.

I thought that the rich parts of town were way too sterile. The sheer lifelessness of Rodeo Drive makes me wonder why the hell anyone would shop there, let alone pay the world's highest prices for things. I'm told it's for the anonymity that comes with paying way too much for stuff, but with tourists being the only other people there besides celebrities I wonder if that's entirely true. I did, however, dig the art deco grandeur of the Beverly Hills town hall and police stations. It's a pity they don't make them like that anymore. The statues out the front of the town hall are also very cool.

Most movie stars homes are just big houses, so seeing them didn't do too much for me. The exception was the late John Candy's mushroom house. Take one look at the magic toadstool chimneys and tell me he wasn't on some serious stuff.

I think LA was probably a pretty good place to end my American trip. This place is probably a better epitome of how the US works than anywhere else I visited. New York has the hard reality of cash ruling everything, and Wall Street's dominance of the American way. For most people, that's how life works, banks, money, working many hours and seeing other people get rich. Los Angeles is the flip side of this, the fact that there is one way to buck the system and that's celebrity. Forget Vegas, that's the big jackpot here. Every now and then, some commoner finds out they can sing, act, dribble a basketball or just look plain hot and find themselves elevated to the new American aristocracy. For the average person, that's what they aspire to, and that's what LA represents. While it has it's angry, ugly side just over the hill in South Central, it provides middle America with it's hopes and dreams. It may be a surer way to comfort to go to Uni and earn a degree and work hard, but everyone, deep down, wants to be a star. It's the release valve on the American Way, and why people seem happy with their lot here.

So that's it, I'm off to Dublin. I've enjoyed America, and it's shattered some of my preconceptions about the place, but I'm so glad this is not my country. It's such an extreme place, a land of big ideas without the tempering force of common sense most of the time. It's easy to admire, but probably best done from afar. I know I'll be back here one day.

NoCal

Santa Barbara :: USA

Going back to Cali...

Places: San Francisco, Santa Cruz, San Luis Obispo, Big Sur & Santa Barbara.

Coolest thing I did: Big Sur. I can't describe it, it has to be seen.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: California is just chock full of farms. I pictured all palm trees and beaches.

It appears that my last trip to the San Francisco Bay area that I'd been uncannily lucky with the weather. It turns out it's usually a whole lot colder than the temperature I'd just left in Las Vegas, but also that it varies quite a lot depending on where in the city or bay you happen to be standing at any given moment. The hills all through the city cause micro climates, meaning it can be 10 degrees colder just by going down into a valley or up a hill. Unfortunately, it turned out to be pretty uniformly rainy for my whole time staying in the city.

The hostel is just off Union Square, giving me the central tourist friendly location I never had last time I visited for work, but it also meant there were lots of pan handlers and crack heads congregating around outside. Not a big issue, but coming back at night never felt quite safe. Lets just say it adds some colour to your day when bearded drunks scream obscenities at you as you leave for the morning. Still, can't possibly complain about the location. As close to the middle of everything as you can get.

It was a trip of visits this time. Cisco had very recently moved Dave from his home in Amsterdam to somewhere in Silicon Valley and he already had his first two visitors on the same day as I arrived. It was good to see him again after about 3 years and he spent the rest of the weekend playing tour guide with his car. We went out for a good Italian in North Beach on Saturday night (though we sat in the basement and it was lucky we didn't get to eat in the meat smoking room like some people had to) and then he took us out to the Napa Valley on Sunday to do some wine tasting.

I'm assured that the scenery is spectacular in Napa, but I can't say either way. It rained so constantly that we really couldn't see much but the vague outline of some mountains on either side of the vineyards, but I can imagine it would be quite a scene. Still, we did get stuck into some pretty good wine and I learned that there is a grape called Zinfandel, and that it's a red. I also learned that Australians pioneered sparkling red wine, and they had a copy cat at one of the places that was 60% Pinot Noir and 40% of the aforementioned Zinfandel. Man, that stuff is fun in a bottle. Its like Champagne, only redder, but with similar light headed joy.

So I had Monday to pretty much be a tourist around the city, which was something I had to pack into half a day last time I was in San Francisco. I took a bus up to Haight-Ashbury to see what's become of the hippies. Just to give you a taste, the corner of Haight and Ashbury Streets has a Gap on it. It's still a pretty cool place in town to hang about in but the counter culture revolution collided with market reality quite some time ago so you are reduced to buying tie dyed T-shirts or bongs if you want to relieve the old spirit of the place. I did, however, have a vegetarian meal even though I wasn't forced to. It must be the vibe.

I then went down to the Castro to see how the gay people live. Much like Sydney, there are lots of clothes shops and eateries that are far superior to most other spots in the city. Them poofs have taste, if nothing else. Having got a brief respite from the rain I crossed over into the Mission district to see some nastier looking new eateries (gentrification appears to be a couple of years behind) and lots of book shops. I also had a burrito thats as good as any I've ever had. I'd forgotten about that from last time.

The thing I did see this time in the Mission that I missed last time was the actual mission. Californian towns all tended to be built up around a Catholic Mission so there is always a monestary/hacienda looking building with terracotta roof tiles and great big bells in arches in every town. It reminds you that despite the modern Americans complaints that there are too many Latin immigrants in their country, the Spanish speakers have been in the area a whole lot longer than the English speakers.

I went over to Oakland to meet up with Colin, an old work mate from Sun in Sydney, and it was good to see him, even if it didn't look like he'd slept in about 3 days. The birth of your second child will do that. I also saw Rob and Patrick, who gave me my first job at Sun all those years ago, down in Santa Clara at a place that graded their chicken wings from mild to thermonuclear. I hadn't seen any of these guys in about 5 years, and it made the detour back to San Francisco even more worth it. I'm throughly impressed with the place once again. That mix of nature and urban lifestyle right in the middle of an earthquake zone has to be unique in the world.

I picked up my hire care and drove south, following highway 1 into the literary heartland of the US. John Steinbeck, Henry Miller and Jack Kerouac all loom large over northern California, which I have to say is not what I expected. A coastline hugged by mountains, the space in between inhabited by rows and rows of farmland and the cliffs breaking out into beaches every now and then. North of Santa Cruz I was making my way through redwood forests and rolling hills. I spent the first night at the surf mecca of Santa Cruz, but unfortunately, the weather had cut the tops off the waves so they looked a lot more like speed humps. Even in those conditions there seemed to be about a thousand people out competing for the waves. I'd hate to see what it gets like when the surf is really good. Still, it was a nice little town, with a long beach to walk along and cliffs overlooking it. Sitting on the cliff tops and watching the sun set over the surfers in the water below was a mellowing feeling, vindicating my decision to continue slowly down the coast instead of flying.

The stretch between Santa Cruz and Morro Bay lives up to it's reputation as one of the most worthwhile in the entire US. The highway is a grey ribbon stitched in and out of looming great cliffs and every time you round the next bend its yet another spectacular photo opportunity. From Monterey you follow 17 mile road through golf courses looking over rocky islands and trees that are so gnarled you'd compare them to wafts of smoke if they weren't so still. Seals roll around on the beaches and sea birds sit on the rocks in their thousands, resulting in the black weed on the base of the rocks giving way to snow caps of bird poo. Even if you know what it is, it still makes a stunning visual effect against the sheer blue sky.

The area around Big Sur is the stuff of legends. This is where the road barely clings for dear life to the sides of green hills, broken up by the occasional granite bridge that makes driving there possible without backtracking kilometres inland. I don't know how comfortable I am when the bridges are described as “historic” though, it makes them sounds like they were once safe, but now, who knows. I'm not sure what it's like in summer, but I had whole stretches of this beautiful highway to myself for lots of the trip, which is good when you're scared to go more than 30 or 40 miles and hour around most of the hairpins. It took far longer than I though it would, meaning I did miss out on seeing the Hearst Castle, which is something I would have liked to do had they not made it so hard ($20 and a 1.45 hour tour is required, meaning you really need half a day). It does look like an actual castle, perched up on a hilltop over the peasants living down in San Simeon. I think the days are gone when second generation media barons can get away with lording it over the poor like that, I can't imagine what would have happened had a Murdoch or Packer decided to do the same thing in Sydney these days, probably be frowned upon.

I've noted that hostels in Northern California seem to be run by the refugees of the Berkley hard left. Unless you are ready for talks of organic farmers markets, why Bush is evil and how to make your own clothing out of hemp then this may not be the scene for you. The one I spent the night in at San Lous Obispo was the epitome of it. Any attempt at a rational conversation very quickly veered into evils perpetrated on the world by the Bush-Cheney junta. It's ok if you're willing to listen to the other side of the argument, but the cult like mentality is a bit too much. Still, it was fun night in S.L.O so the streets were blocked off and I got to eat BBQ chicken kebabs on the street, which was tops. I also re-affirmed that Fat Tire is the best mass produced micro brew (a common occurrence here) available. I'd been struggling with the American beer until California, where they appear to just make lots of micro brew, turning it into a contradiction in terms, but making good beer available in pubs that don't brew their own.

So I've arrived in Southern California, having dodged a hefty storm and looked at loads of beaches and ended up in Santa Barbara. It seems like a nice kind of spot, I'm even considering staying a second day if the rain clears up overnight.

Deal, or no deal?

Las Vegas :: USA

About these young brothers in the city of sin.

Places: Las Vegas, Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon.

Coolest thing I did: Drove a convertible out to the Grand Canyon to watch the sun set.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: There are even poker machines in the airport in Vegas. The airport.

To be honest, besides gambling, prostitution and booze I didn't really know what to expect from Las Vegas, the home of my first annual 29th birthday (not one American has gotten that joke yet...). You first get an idea of what's in store for you when you pull up to your hotel and it's shaped like Camelot. Grant and I stayed in the Excalibur, whose theme you can probably guess from it's eateries having names like the Round Table Buffet and the Sherwood Forrest Cafe. If you like tack, you're in the right place. We then took a stroll through an Egyptian pyramid made of black glass and guarded by the Sphinx and a Malaysian garden. Giant golden Lions, the Eiffel tower, the statue of liberty, fountains that dance to adult middle of the road adult contemporary music: this place has it all.

I'm not much of a gambler, so Grant, who seems to be a bit of a blackjack guru, did most of the gambling for us on the first night. The Star Wars pokies were just the start. Here's a tip for those going to come here, it's very expensive to go out after half a litre of Vodka each. Despite many deleted scenes (more from memory loss that anything else) we managed to work out we blew quite a bit of money playing blackjack at the Bellagio and got separated when I went to the toilet and couldn't find my way back to the table. To be fair, these places are designed to get you lost when you're sober, so being drunk makes it impossible to find out where you were before you last turned around in a circle. We did discover that people will bring you “free” beer when you gamble, but I reckon somehow the Casinos come out ahead. The rest of the first evening involved Grant being asleep at McDonalds and me being thrown out of the MGM Grand for sitting on the escalators. And asking lots of people if they'd seen Grant, usually responded to by “who the hell is Grant?”.

There were more nights like this. Besides our best intentions I learned that it's not a good idea to make your first meal of the day a buffet lunch. I don't care how hung over you are, pork ribs and fried chicken for breakfast is a terrible idea. We went for an ill considered walk to find the famous Welcome to Las Vegas sign but gave up once we got to the end of the strip and had entered deep into dodgey-ville (pop. 1.5million). Despite the fact that we were staying in what we thought was white trash city, it gets far worse the further north you go. Lots of people with 19 kids trailing behind them with no shoes and mullets. Despite the rumored glamor of the place, the whole city lacks any level of class at all, even in the high end places. It's just more concentrated at one end.

The weather was tops and we actually spent some time in the sun by the pool during the days. The day after Grant left I also managed to find a golf driving range and hit a few balls without having to front the $500 it costs to do the same thing in the Wynn hotel. It was nice to think we didn't spend 24 hours a day in front of a poker table or slot machines, as appears to be the done thing here.

My actual birthday was probably the quietest night we had, being in bed by 2am and having drunk very little. I guess there's only so much you can take if you aren't a huge gambler. There is a definite lean towards the male here, meaning nightclubs are pointless as the only women in them are topless waitresses, many hired because they are women, not because they should be topless. I did have the best steak of the trip on the evening of my birthday, which is good because the night after Grant left I'm pretty sure I had nothing but Margaritas for dinner, which would explain my trying to get into nightclubs by tacking myself on to the end of big groups going in the VIP lines and fighting off hookers by asking them for outrageous acts for unreasonably low prices. Drunk single men seem to be a pretty good target so I think I had more women talk to me that one evening than in the rest of the week. In a place that prides itself on the fact you can order strippers to your room out of a catalogue I guess you can expect that.

I wonder about the fascination with animals though. If it's not caged tigers it's sharks or lions. I'm sure it's not good for them to be exposed to all the bright lights and noise, even if they are in a show or two. I guess that kind of explains why the eventually turn on their handlers, ala Sigfried and Roy.

I hired a car for the last day and thanks to a $10 upgrade, ended up with a convertible. As you make your way out of Vegas you can see just how barren the country this place was planted on is. Jagged cliffs and boulders jut out of miles of scrub and sand, and after a few hours of eating dust I decided that the convertible wasn't that good an idea after all. Still, it makes a cool story and I have sunburn that will soon look like a tan. The first stop was the Hoover Dam, which as far as I can tell was built so people who didn't need electricity in the depression due to being too poor would have jobs to provide electricity. It is, however, a pretty cool dam, as dams go. You can tell it was built in the 1930s by all the art deco touches everywhere, its kind of like the Chrysler building but rather as a feat of electrical engineering than a commercial tower. I was impressed, but didn't stay long as I woke up far too late and had to drive far and fast to make it to Le Canyon Grand.

Another 3 hours through the desert and I found myself face to face with another one of those tourist attractions that's either going to live up to the hype or suffer from the Mona Lisa Syndrome (“I thought it would be bigger”). It's hard to describe the place, especially at sunset but I was so glad I went. The colours are just radiant and almost seem to glow when reflecting the red in the background. It's a pity I took all my pictures a half hour before sunset and didn't remember to recharge my camera battery, but it's going to be hard to forget all those torn up cliffs and rifts glowing in the deepening sky. Oh, and it's also bigger than you think it's going to be, which is a nice change.

I have to say, after all yesterday's driving, I'm not as up on the whole Las Vegas thing as I was even 48 hours ago. I'd say a weekend is about all you can expect to stay here and keep your dignity intact. I guess when you found your country on the protection of liberty above all else, you're eventually going to end up with a Las Vegas at some point. It's one of those places that point out the frailties in human nature, the need for pure decadence and just plain sinning that we all have inside us, but some of us repress better than others. Practically anything you want to do that is bad for you can be done for a price here, sometimes in combination with other bad things. It's a spectacle thats worth seeing, but probably not for this long.

Charlotte airport is full of Nascar fans

Breckenridge :: USA

First a capital, then onto the snow.

Places: Washington DC, Charolotte, Breckenridge & Vail.

Coolest thing I did: Came to play in the snow.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: You can't even get within spitting distance of the White house but you can almost breathe on the original constitution.

Despite showing up to Washington DC on a long weekend, when much of the cities business has closed down, it did manage to live up to the hype of being a lot like Canberra, only less crap. If America is as much a set of ideals as it is a physical place then Washington is where these ideals are carved into stone. It's easy to admire the purity of the basic tenets of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness that are the basis of the American nation, and looking up at all those monuments to the key figures in the countries history it becomes even easier to get swept up in the seductive simplicity of having hard, fixed principles govern a country.

Well, that's how it works in theory, anyway.

Neo-classical seems to have been the order of the day when the three big arms of government were getting their homes set up, and despite not being able to get at all close to the White House you can't help but be impressed that so much of the world's business is decided in that one little building. I guess it's also a tribute to the strict separation of powers that the Capitol building and the Supreme Court are housed at the other end of town, with the court sitting on top of a hill, kind of fitting for the final arbiter of the laws made and executed in the other two.

That the great monuments (and the associated reflecting pools) are all either to presidents or war dead says a lot about the country. It's history has been forged into a complete narrative that can be used to tell school children the heroic and often bloody story of how the country came to be and what had to be done to keep it from all falling apart during it's many crises. I liked the elegant simplicity of the Vietnam war memorial and was most taken aback by the Jefferson memorial, even though it's less popular than Lincoln's due to location. All those enlightenment ideas that flowed from the man's pen into the founding documents of the US are emblazoned on the walls and despite having read quite a bit about his being a slave owner sprouting large about freedom and liberty, I admire those words.

The Smithsonian isn't so much a museum as a small town of museums. It's the repository of the nation's history, and like most nations, also it's spoils of war. I only went into the original institute and the American History museum but both have an impressive line up of stuff. I've read they are showing about 1% of what they have in their archives so what's in storage must be impressive. From Lincoln's top hat to the puffy shirt from Seinfeld there really is a large chuck of American history to learn about. What I did learn is that despite the positive narrative, when you look into the details the Americans have done just as despicable things in their history as many nations, they just choose to tell these as footnotes to the main story. I think one of the best things about Australian history is the self criticality that's built into it. I'd hate to see us end up with a grand narrative of our own, despite what Mr Howard would like.

The best thing I saw there was the national archives, which house the originals of those magic documents that house American's ideals. In one small rotunda is the Declaration of independence, the Bill of Rights, the Constitution, all it's written amendments and just outside is one of the four remaining copies of the original Magna Carta. If this is a country built on ideas then these are the blueprints.

Washington also has a nightlife of Saturday night, which surprised the hell out of me.

It also has a staggering homeless problem. In the shadow of all these halls of power, hordes of people struggle around in the cold, pushing shopping trolleys and begging for change. Without the politicos in town it becomes obvious that everyone is either a tourist or homeless and these people get very aggressive if you don't give them your loose change. It's a reminder that despite the lofty ideals set in stone in this place, the reality is that in practice, they don't work to enrich everyone.

So, my next stop was to the ski fields just outside Denver. Grant has set up shop in Breckenridge this year and has been kindly putting me up in the large household he's acquired this year. The town itself is large enough to support a whole ecosystem of shops, eateries and nightlife so it's a damn site easier for someone to live in than little Banff would have been. Despite only having got a few cm of snow on the first night when I arrived there has been a record base this year and I've spent day after day boarding down these ultra wide runs under a brilliant blue sky. I was impressed enough with Breckenridge itself but we also borrowed his mate's car and took a trip out to Vail, which is a world of it's own. It took us about 2 hours to get to the most distant mountain in the park and the scenery is just breathtaking. While Breck is very windy, and it's soft white peaks appear smudged at the edges due to powder drifting off into the wind, Vail has a variety of scenery that takes the breath away. From soft hills to jagged peaks that look like British teeth, brittle twigs of deciduous trees to lush pines covered in snow, it's what you expect from the Rockies.

I'm intrigued by the seasonal lifestyle that all these guys and girls live, mostly doing jobs they'd never consider otherwise for a lift pass. I feel a little inadequate trying to keep up with these people when I can barely link my turns, but I have to say that trying to keep up with Grant at slow pace has forced me out of the comfort zone I built up in Tremblant and improved me no end. Breck is much younger than Vail as far as workers and visitors go, so I feel a lot like an old man going out at night, but the fact you can get a jug of gut rottingly horrible beer for a mere $4 more than makes up for it. I can't help but people watch as these early 20-somethings go about eagerly making the same mistakes I did back then, just starting out on their irresponsible globe trotting runs. All that enthusiasm helps remind me why I started doing this in the first place.

And another one

Washington DC :: USA

More from the town of smoking manholes.

Places: New York, Washington DC.

Coolest thing I did: Saw a one woman, 13 part play "off-broadway" as they say in the industry.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The Smithsonian (off the institute fame) never set foot in the US, he just wanted to make sure their new country got off to a good start.

Since last we spoke I have been far more cultured, having gone to not only another art gallery, but also the theater in the space of a few days. Despite my usual dislike for modern art (including a legendary spat at the Tate Modern where I just ended up walking out it was all so stupid) I decided to go to the Museum of Modern Art (from here on in referred to as the MoMA). I'm glad modern meant from the late 19th century on as this means I ended up seeing loads more Van Goghs, Monets and the like. I have decided that Picasso used to be able to draw real good around the turn of the century but then obviously got his hands on some ketamine or something because everything after that looks like he's either looking at it through a broken window or a broken mind. I'm going to guess with all those pictures of absinthe bottles about the same time it was the latter. It was only towards the end that I saw all that really weird performance and installation art, some of which wasn't too bad. Then again, some of it was absolute nonsense so I felt vindicated.

I hate musicals. This fact coupled with everyone else on Earth seeming to love them no end meant I had some trouble locating something to see to tick a Broadway show off my tourist to do list. I ended up scouring the ultra liberal nonsense of the Village Voice looking for something to see that wasn't avant-guard nonsense put on by arts students and came up with a one woman show they'd panned called Bridge and Tunnel. I lined up for the half price tickets for that nights show (for anything that's not selling out months in advance you can get tickets for if you've got an hour to line up in Times Square) and wasn't sure what to expect. It turns out the woman is a genius of impersonation and she goes through a mock poetry reading done by New York immigrants. I swear she did a dozen different characters and each one was spot on and very bloody funny. There was also minimal singing, which was tops. I once saw Les Miserables and I swear to god that there wasn't that much singing in the French Revolution.

So running out of famous landmarks to gawk at I did a couple of visits to some themed areas. First day I did “rockstars that met untimely ends”. I had some trouble locating the unmarked Dakota building which saw the end of John Lennon but managed to figure out that all the tour buses were stopping out the front and everyone pointing at it. Say what you will about the man, but Mr Lennon has some impeccable taste in living arrangements. The building is amazing and right over the road from Central Park. I then took a rather long walk down to the Chelsea Hotel, which is famous mostly for lots of people who wrote stuff writing it there. It's also the location of the infamous death of Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols and his chick Nancy. As Chelsea was the hip place to have an art gallery a couple of years ago they now show lots of paintings by up and coming artists in the lobby.

The hip place now to have an art gallery appears to be Williamsburg, which is just over the river in Brooklyn. Williamsburg was once a complete hole and the fact you can see the towers of the Marcy projects that gave the world Jay-Z (and if his lyrics are to be believed, led to a lucrative career in selling crack cocaine) tells us that it's renaissance is rather recent. It's a whole load of run down warehouses and decrepit buildings being given splashes of paint and being turned into trendy cafes and loft galleries. While it is all very hip and happening it did seem a little two hip and happening for me. I'm sure I'll be wearing some of the nonsense I saw people got up in two years from now and think nothing of it, I'm going to bet 90% of the stupid getup these people are trudging around in trying to look trendily miserable will never make it to the mainstream. Thank god. One tip girls, you'll all be wearing ballet slippers within the next 12 months, mark my words.

I also decided to see how the other half lives up in Harlem. I started walking up posh arsed Park Avenue at about 86th street knowing that I'd reach Spanish Harlem just over 96th. It's amazing how it goes from mansions to housing projects by crossing one street. Once you hit the 120s you end up in the Harlem of legend, and despite the assurances that money is being pumped into the place to sort it out it still reeks of poverty. I can't see how anyone is surprised when you put people that are mostly poor into high densities in a very small space and give them a view of the richest people in the world and be surprised that there's some tension. I know they had to come up with something but the very design of those housing towers lends itself to problems. Putting four of them around an enclosed park that can't be seen from the road seems like a very bad idea. No wonder even the police were scared to go in there at one time.

Speaking of which, the reason crime seems to be down is that the police presence in the area is staggering. While standing on 125th street taking a photo of the Apollo theater (ground zero for much of the black musical talent of the last 40 years) police cars came screaming in from nowhere and demanded that everyone clear the block. One old man grumbled to me as I past that this happens all the time and that they just do it to stop the young blokes gathering on the street corners in groups of more than 3. I'm actually glad someone spoke to me because despite trying to be open minded the regular stares at me being the only white face on the street were getting unnerving. I'm sure these people are just trying to get through their problems like everyone else but when those groups of young 50 cent look a likes come down the footpath in front of you can't help but tense up. I even found myself trying to guess just how many handguns there would have been in one street alone. You can try and rationalise all you want, but it is a bit terrifying.

So my final stop in tourism land was to take the train up to the South Bronx and see what must be the soul of the city, Yankee stadium. While I'm no baseball fan I was in awe at the amount of history tied to the place and the hardened looking Italian local that took us around while explaining everything in an accent that you only hear on the Sopranos made it far more authentic. I guess the Americans know enough about marketing to make that team and ground world famous. I can't imagine someone who knew nothing about cricket being as impressed by the MCG.

The view from the stadium, as an added bonus, takes in the biggest, baddest housing projects of them all, dominating the skyline of the South Bronx. This, despite what some people claim, was the birthplace of hip-hop, and despite Brooklyn and Queens providing far more of the stars you've heard on the radio, it was the reaction to the sheer hopelessness of life in those towers and the required inventiveness to overcome it that gave us the rapping and scratching that now seem to colour all popular music.

What more can I say to you? New York has exceeded all expectations I'd placed on it. I now really do wish I'd been able to get out of Toronto on time so I could have spent another couple of days here but time has run out.

The view out on the bus was just as good. Once you get out of the tunnel on the New Jersey side and look back you can see the whole extent of the island, two massive waves of skyscrapers breaking over the low rise of the villages and Harlem. From the 5th avenue stores that look like museums (and make Oxford street look like Parklea Markets) to the streets full of yellow cabs and steaming manhole covers, it just is an incomparable place.

Believe the Hype

New York City :: USA

This is a Brooklyn bound L train.

Places: New York, New York.

Coolest thing I did: Watched kids snowboarding in the Park.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: People here are far from rude, in face I can't recall the last big city where people talk to strangers so much.

I'm going to try hard not to resort to hyperbole when describing New York City, but it's going to be hard. To try and hold it off for a short time, I will describe my day today, just to give you a taste. I spent the morning walking over the Brooklyn Bridge and wandering around the brownstones of the town of Brooklyn Heights, which includes a spectacular view over the North River to Manhattan. I had a pasta lunch that could only be described as spot on (I assume this is because this is where the actual Italians all moved once the Lower East Side became decrepit) and took the subway back to Manhattan to spend the afternoon lost in Greenwich Village before going up the Empire State Building to take the whole place in at miniature scale. That rates as a rather slow day since my arrival four days ago as I'm writing this instead of bar hopping around the East Village, which is where I happen to be staying.

As you can tell, I'm having the best time.

I've been in hyper tourist mode since I got here as there is no city I've ever been to that's been so good at promoting itself and every time I do one thing I find a vaguely remembered reference to something else very close by. My first day was spent wandering around the canyons of lower Manhattan, which alternates between the very old and the ultra new. Just around the corner from the brass bull statue out the front of the neoclassical facade of Rockefeller's Standard Oil building lies the NYSE and Wall street, the very heart and aorta of the capitalist animal. While the gold and cash have been replaced by innumerable electronic signals, it is no less the hub of our globalised financial system. There is no place on the planet, London, Frankfurt and Tokyo included (or even combined) has the feel of an unrestrained free market as Wall street, which must be why it gets to be the only logically straight road in the incongruously random streets of lower Manhattan. While the rest of the city follows the logic of vertical Avenues at right angles to Streets, the layout near the tip of the island looks almost Old World.

I took the Staten Island Ferry out for a close look at the Statue of Liberty and wasn't disappointed by either the view or not taking the option of walking on Liberty Island itself. If you were still able to climb the statue, I'd have paid to do so, but no one seems to see the ultimate irony of protecting the very symbol of liberty from the “evil doers” by taking away...erm...the liberty of the people to climb it.

I also went to look at the world's most evocative hole in the ground, where two towers originally hated by New Yorkers stood. It's hard, even now, to engage in conversation with someone who has lived here long enough to call themselves a New Yorker and not have the subject of those twin cavities or the saga of their replacement come up. Everyone has an opinion here, and isn't afraid to give it out. I love that.

I spent a day in the middle of Manhattan looking at all those skyscrapers that make the place famous. In stark contrast to the business like nature of the Downtown, the beauty of some of the structures just south of Central Park can't be denied. I was fascinated by anything art deco even before coming here but seeing the Empire State, Chrysler and Rockefeller Center up close has moved me to almost make this a love letter to all things with vertical bars and gods on them. Sure, there are some monstrosities. Take the UN building, or even better Donald Trump's love letter to both extreme capitalism and himself. Looking at the GE building compared to the gold and red marble edifice that is Trump Tower only shows that there's no accounting for taste, and that the old money of the 30s at least left us something beautiful, whereas I can't see too many people falling in love with the debris of the 80s.

Having said that, the ode to the combination of capital and labour written by John D Rockefeller and engraved outside his eponymous Plaza is pure gilded age piffle that could have easily been penned by Ayn Rand (in fact, I wonder if the Atlas statue out the front in any way inspired her book title?). As a man that spent his life running an empire provided by his father by engaging in business tactics that are now illegal in most of the world it seems a bit rich for him to be telling us about the beauty of humanities achievements through the sweat of it's own brow. It's a reminder that just like the monuments left by every other civilization before this one, it's the veneration of the rich and powerful that leaves the lasting mark on the world. I guess that's the price we pay.

The Met also lived up to the hype. While they have none of the most famous artworks from any particular artist, period or culture, the sheer number of works can easily fill a day or more to see. My only regret is the most famous picture, of Washington crossing the Delaware River wasn't on display because the extensive American wing was closed for some reason. However a whole truck loads of Rembrandts, Dalis, Van Gogh and Monets more than make up for that. The Americans don't seem immune from the prestige projects of the late 19th century that saw the Met end up two entire Egyptian temples taken from their home land and reconstructed on US soil. I'd assumed that was a European kind of arrogance but it seems that in the struggle to define itself as a real country, the game of oneupmanship that infected Europe at the time crossed the Atlantic too.

As an added treat, the winter that never came ended on Saturday night with almost a meter of snow falling on the city. This left Central Park blanketed in snow and the Sunday afternoon crowds out to enjoy it as best they could. There were cross country skiers, tobogganers mixing it up with snowball fighters and snowman builders, but by far the coolest thing was the snowboarders. These kids built a jump at the bottom of a stair case and were going down at full tilt over the jump to the applause of a waiting crowd. All nominally in the middle of a city. This place is beyond unique.

So the hostel is a dive, but it's got a good crowd and it's located on the border of the East Village and the increasingly less dodgey Alphabet City. When compared with the gentrification of the world famous Greenwich Village on the other side of Washington Square, the East Village is a combination of down and out and hip. I've been going to a different cheap restaurant, bar or club every night (sometimes several bars) and there's no end of new ones in sight. I'd have thought going into these hip places would leave me feeling like an outsider but I reckon I've yet to get more than 10 mins after ordering a beer without a conversation starting with a complete stranger. God, these people love to talk. I admit, it's about work more often than not, they do seem to take an interest and love the chance to talk about themselves to a foreigner just as much. Pity the bar staff are so universally surely. Perhaps they'd rather be out on a Saturday night.

It does, however, seem like a tragically hip and naive part of town. Whilst sitting at a Belgian bar at about 3am, myself and an English bloke I happened to be out with noticed two blokes started slapping each other and rushed out into the street for a fight. It was like no one had ever seen one before. While we gave it a subtle glance over our shoulders and continued drinking the place emptied to go and watch. I guess when everyone is dressed like it's a Napoleon Dynamite conference you don't get many fights.

Right, my love letter to my new favorite city (sorry Berlin) has to end for now, but more is sure to come soon.

Game On

Boston :: USA

Where everyone is Irish.

Places: Boston & Salem.

Coolest thing I did: Superbowl Sunday. The commercials alone were worth it.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: No one was actually burnt at the stake during the Salem Witch trials. Several hangings, one pressing but no burnings. What a cop out.

I was supposed to leave Toronto the day after my work and lease ended but events conspired against me at the very start of my US trip. Thanks to several delays along the way I ended up being stuck in TO for an extra 4 or 5 days, but had a very good time being there and not working. It's hard leaving all those people I've met over the last 12 months, it's been a good time in my life. There's the downside of having to build up a whole new bank of conversation with new people but then there's the upside of all my jokes being new again. On the balance I'm pretty happy to be starting my big trip in the US.

So the background is I have a flight from LA to Dublin on the 16th of March and the time in between is all mine. At almost the last moment I booked myself on a Greyhound from Toronto and Boston (as opposed to New York), not recalling the last time I was on a long bus ride just how dull it can be. Thirteen and a half hours is a long time to spend on a bus through lots of dead tress and abandoned farm houses but it beat the $500 plane ticket option. I have to say that it's not the upper echelons of US society that catch the bus and it was pretty obvious from the get go that there were some weirdos on my bus. At one point the bus driver stopped the bus because this woman was screaming at her to turn the lights on and we had to wait while the police came and picked her up. Add to this I'd only eaten from Dunkin' Donuts, Subway and McDonalds in the last 12 hours and all my preconceptions of the US were being fulfilled. Thank god that ride ended.

The first thing that strikes you about Boston is the city is a mix of very old and ultra new being torn to pieces to make it more livable. The rump of Boston itself (wedged between the Charles River and the harbor) has been riven open with new freeways and had big tunnels poked through it. Apparently it's been going on for about two decades now so no-one seems to notice just what an unfinished state it's in. You kind of get used to the juxtaposition of freeways, parks and buildings as you walk along but it makes it very hard to navigate.

My first day was spent doing the tourist walks and learning just how little I know about American history. Here is the site of the Boston Massacre, here is where the Declaration of Independence was first read out, and so on. I'm trying to catch up quickly, but I'm constantly hearing new names and events and just trying to mash them into some kind of narrative in my head. I think the idea of conservation of historical sites came very late to Boston as there tends to be two story historical buildings wedged between a couple of skyscrapers of at least 20 odd floors. It's not a bad thing, it shows that the city has continued to progress and be a centre of commerce for the US but it does make it very hard to take pictures that just aren't all black.

The strangest thing is the turning of old public buildings into commercial sites to help fund their preservation. The beautiful old stone town hall was replaced by a concrete structure that redefines ugly and the old site has actually been taken over by an upmarket Steak House. I'm not sure if that's admirable or not but at least it's still there.

I've noticed that this is a city of joggers. I've been unable to take a picture without getting either a random jogger or an American flag in it.

It was pointed out to me last night that by mingling with the locals strictly at bars I'm only going to meet the local drunks. While this is true I can't think of another way to do it. The nightlife has been excellent, even if the beer is American. Some of the local pubs brew their own, which has been quite acceptable but if that's not on offer then it's all the generic crap that passes as beer here. The best night out so far was Superbowl Sunday. I didn't realise so many of the places would be holding organised parties so I ended up in a row of pubs on Union Street and found the first one that would let me in. I ended up propping myself on the bar between a couple of blokes from South Boston and a couple of girls from North Boston and much merriment and Guinness resulted. I learned that most people from Boston claim to be Irish but that none of them actually are. I also learned that people have been browbeaten into thinking their accent is ugly that they've just started to accept it. I have to say I find the broad accent far easier on the ears than the ones you get on TV and was quite popular for saying so. I also learned that telling people from South Boston that Guns and Roses are a second rate AC/DC is dangerous. Lucky I don't think anyone understood a word I said.

The US ads for the Superbowl are a contest in who can be funniest. I can't describe most of them but I hope they get played wherever you are as there were some gems.

I spent a day walking around Cambridge and the jewel of the US education system that is Harvard. When you come from a Uni that has such a utilitarian feel as UTS and it's 28 story office block then you can't help but be gobsmacked that people actually study in nice looking places. My head was telling me how elitist the whole place is but my heart was all for all the thinking that must go on there. I also found myself back there at night hearing the philosopher Kwame Appiah talk about his book Cosmopolitanism in the Harvard book store. I felt pretty inspired to do some hard thinking about stuff but didn't manage to do much. Instead I went to the pub for tea and watched basketball.

Just down the street from the beauty of Harvard is the pure geekiness of MIT. I had planned to walk around the buildings much like I did at it's more humanities based cousin but you get lost very quickly and soon I found myself wandering around the basements of the buildings watching people in lab coats weld things, shoot things with lasers and things like that. It was like watching people go for their PhD in Mad Science. I didn't see any very big computers but it was still very cool.

I should also mention my trip out to Salem. I went out there for the witch trial related tourism but found out that it's all a bit of a scam. All they want to tell you about is their proud maritime history. I didn't want to hear about boats, I wanted to hear about (and if possible see) witches being burnt at the stake. While I learned some stuff by reading plates nailed to walls I didn't really see all that much witch-related stuff. It was, however, a nice town, but that didn't really justify the trip out. I did learn that the whole thing was a bit of a cock up. Apparently one of the local preachers became a sort of expert on witches and published THE textbook on witchery in the late 1690s. This inspired two young local girls to have a bit of a joke and pretend to be possessed by the devil. When they were cornered they fingered a local slave (a half black, half Indian woman) who was hung for witchcraft. The girls then decided to see off quite a few more people and the accusations started flying thick and fast as everyone in town got in on the act. It was only when the governors wife was fingered by someone in some sort of plea bargain that the madness stopped (can't be hanging any rich people, after all). I especially liked the fact you could have "spectral testimony" meaning if you were the only one who heard a spirit tell you someone was a witch then no one could dispute you. Funny if it still didn't happen, only now you call people 'terrorist' instead of 'witch'.

So far the only history I've put together is there were these blokes called the Puritans, who didn't like the king of England persecuting their religion so they got on a boat and came to American where they could have the liberty to persecute whomever they liked. Then something happened and there was a war with the French. Then the local high-and-mighties got annoyed at the English for taxing them to pay for this war with the French so they dumped a whole lot of tea into Boston harbor. Then there was a war with the English. Then the US was a country. I'm sure I'm missing some bits but you get the gist.

Oh yeah, one of these local high-and-mighties (Sam Adams) has a beer named after him.

On balance, my first stop in the US has been pretty good to me. Tomorrow I'm on a bus to the city that never sleeps and I'm sure there will be lots more to write there.