Day 15 - McAllen

I'm going to say right up from that the Day 14 bus ride had nothing worth talking about, and no wifi, so it will have to be forever lost as a blog entry I'm afraid. I've been staying with another member of the American clan, the awesome Tootie, who kindly allowed me in to her home to drink gin and tonic and shoot the breeze for a couple of days. Even the fact that I beat the very slightly more mature but still sprightly Tootie 5:1 at pool, she displayed nothing but generosity in her hospitality and indeed defeat (I decided to ignore the 'dang' muttered as we exited the pool hall).
As I leave the deep South, there are two movies that you might want to check out that give a sense of what I've left behind. Alan Parker made two tremendous films based in the South, Angel Heart, and Mississippi Burning. Both cover different topics, but both are totally gripping and kinda provided some inspiration for my little exploration. I recommend both of them highly.
Of course the world and indeed the South has changed immeasurably since the subject matter in both took place, but you get a sense of how it has got to where it is today. I can see evidence of inequality still, but it isn't pronounced to the average tourist, although the Southern poor do seem to be dominated by people of colour, and where I have been at least, I've seen a fair few poor folk.

Everyone loves chicken, right? I mean it's so versatile! In the USA, there's pretty much nothing they can't do with the stuff and the South is positively drowning in hot fryer fat and feathers.
Around 300m people call the USA home, and I reckon they all get through 2 or 3 chickens a day. That means somewhere near a billion chickens a day sacrifice themselves, and that's in the US alone remember. In the UK, we must get through 1000 or so, and the Chinese love a chicken, but they probably have 1 a week or something, that's..... erm..... about 143m a day, and let's figure on another few tons for the rest of the world combined. So in total, we get through 1 billion and a bit chickens a day. Fact. Vegetarian readers can feel free to use my statistics in any anti-chicken campaigns they have coming up.

This leg of my trip is coming to a close, and I can't help feeling like it has been as much an education as it has a missed opportunity. I wish I'd had a car to get 'out there' but I've been stuck on the bus route and feel there must be more to see, but time and routing simply hasn't allowed.
In truth, I don't think those small town, authentically Southern communities that I wanted to visit exist anymore, so maybe I missed nothing in the end. Corporate America prevails, and perhaps I have been looking for something that only Alan Parker and history can provide.

In my view, and in the very short time I've been here, the Southern States of America have never truly recovered from the trauma of losing the rebellion. There is acceptance, but to this day it seems to come with a tinge of regret. I overheard some good old boys talking about how the Confederate Museum should have been more 'patriotic' and I don't believe they were the only ones that think that way. They are so evidently a proud people, and no longer wedded the darker ideals behind secession, but mourn their defeat and resent being dictated to by the federal government. And that's a long time to hold a grudge, but then proud people tend to do that.

I'm catching a bus tomorrow across the Rio Grande into Mexico. This shit just got real.

It's not all biscuits and gravy in the Deep South - some folk, ...quite a few folk, have it pretty tough.

My favourite place from New Orleans. Obviously it wouldn't quite match up to Las Iguanas, but it did a pretty mean plate nonetheless.

Day 13 - New Orleans

The national tea shortage that plagues America has at least allowed me to reacquaint myself with some of the lesser varieties. I've managed to rediscover the joy of Earl Grey and Assam, and to a lesser extent, Chamomile. Green tea of any description is of course, disgusting. I appreciate that black tea with milk is a peculiarly British habit, and I never expect it to be on tap while travelling. Obviously I packed some emergency rations for when things get desperate, but I've been pleased I've not been forced to self-brew so far.

I went out yesterday looking for the National WWII museum, and found it, but didn't go in. Next door was the Confederate Memorial Museum, so I went there instead. I know really quite a lot about WWII, and without sounding like a dick about it, I'm not sure how much additional info I was going to glean from a Louisiana take on things. So I went and filled up my otherwise poorly educated brain next door.  

The relationship the modern Southern States and its Confederate past seems to be a very complicated. I’m not qualified or entitled to comment much, but it is the difficult blend of pride in their forefathers bravery and determination, versus the cause for which they fought, which through modern eyes looks.... well let’s be kind and say ‘a bit dodgy’ that I think I’ve seen while travelling here.

I'm sure more knowledgable and articulate scholars could give a better explanation, but the Civil War, in these parts at least does appear to leach into many aspects of Southern life, even at a diluted distance of 150 years. Not all of that is good I think, but not all bad either. 

Before I leave, I ought to say that New Orleans has been awesome. I loved seeing cheap and gaudy red neon signs all over the place, you don't see much of that about these days, and the indi art galleries, voodoo stores, liquor stores, sex parlours, and for that matter gift shops, all family run, have reinstated my belief that there remains room in this world for the little guy. It's just that there isn't much of that room left available it seems. 
I'm on the road again shortly, and it is an epic bus ride into Texas. I'll almost certainly not have anything to report on that, so expect the next post to be either very short, or one of those surreal wtf posts. Readers may want to just skip it entirely and check back for what Texas has to offer, we'll see.

So I was going to go here, but it didn't look very historical to me

So I went here instead

And sure enough, there was lots of history inside

And I on the way to an excellent light lunch, I found some very cheery chaps playing some ragtime on the street which made me smile.

Day 12 - New Orleans

Well New Orleans is just great! I'll gloss over the fact that is rather chintzy and touristy, and focus on the positives.

99% of the American towns I've ever visited and entirely homogeneous. Every town has the 6 or 7 major fast food stores, half a dozen of the major banks, and a smattering of bail bond stores and advertisements for litigation attorneys. And that's it. You could be in Palm Springs, or Biloxi and the only way you could tell the difference between the two is the weather. What happened to all the mom & pop homespun eateries? What happened to the artisanal bakeries? Independent hardware stores? Even indi gas stations would be something, but I guess the big corporations rule and the taco you get in one town is just the same as you'll get in another. Quite refreshingly, New Orleans still has a few gems still knocking around that don't come with a corporate guarantee of homogeny or your money back. I'll felt quite warm about walking in to cafes and feeling mildly apprehensive about the standard of fare on offer. Might be great, might be shockingly poor. It's the kind of danger I was hoping for, rather than the collateral damage in a motel drive-by shooting sort.

So my current hotel really is the sort of place I ought to spend more time in really. The idea is to always stay somewhere you'll stumble across likeminded people and share stories, tips and even travel alongside. But that doesn't really apply in the USA. There's no backpacker community as such, so there really is no stumbling to be had. I probably did know that, but it hadn't reached my consciousness before now. So I'm glad I've ended up in a nice place for the last significant leg of my USA trip. I wonder if Mexico will be different? 

Some might consider this to be an intrepid adventure, some may think it the holiday from hell, but spending some time in places like Mobile, Savannah and now New Orleans always makes me smile.  

 It's a bit swampy, but terrifically dramatic

The Big Easy

I made inquiries, but apparently they're not hiring right now. 

Bourbon St. 

Day 11 - New Orleans

Hit the road again today with a relatively short hop to The Big Easy but at an inconvenient time of day, so I got in to New Orleans in the dark. I also got to lug my 25k pack the 4.5 miles to the bus station (I think that must be coming on for 60lb isn't it? I may have got that badly wrong, I'm not great at that sort of conversion) - which for a man of my advancing years was perfectly doable, but not entirely enjoyable. Actually, it would've been a lot less, but I got a bit carried away in the supermarket yesterday and had to hump a large pack of biscuits, some sort of sugar headache inducing cream filled soft cookies (which I should've left behind as I'm never going to finish them) a bag of apples, some bananas (both are sooo very welcome additions to my diet) and a half decent bottle of wine (hey, I'm a backpacker of above average sophistication). I was tempted by the cheese puffs, but ended up rejecting the idea on the basis of volume limitations. I stopped at a diner on the way out to the station and asked for a tea. Perhaps not surprisingly, there was a bit of a mad search for something resembling tea, that ended up with something that resembled nothing like tea. I appreciated the effort though, and was suitably thankful verbally - and equally disappointed mentally.

The hotel I originally booked cancelled on me for no good reason that I could discern (the dirty rotters) so I decided I have had more than enough of crappy motels and at the last minute booked into somewhere nice for a few days. Maison St Charles is, just for once, as nice as it sounds. Proper aircon that doesn't sound like a 747 taking off, a room service menu that runs to three volumes, and a bed that would comfortable accommodate a dozen Cuban hookers. Not that I'll be doing that sort of thing - just in case my mother is reading this. Actually, fuck it, why not? I might do that sort of thing, ...but I definitely won't be telling her about it if I do.

Adopting our family motto 'strap it on and get your arse moving'

Faux cheesy goodness in football team size packs. 

Day 10 - Mobile

Ok, so I'll say up front, there isn't a lot of news today. I was awoken several times during the night by cop sirens and shouting outside my room, but I couldn't be arsed to investigate as that kind of behaviour has long since become the norm. Instead, I rather huffily covered my head in the blanket and assumed that the kerfuffle would go away. Which it did. Then it came back again. Anyway, a disturbed night didn't put me in much of a mood for high energy exploring.
All that said, I have to say I've enjoyed Mobile very much indeed. Much more the small town feel that I'd been hoping for and a little like Savannah in that respect. It's a really nice place with plenty of upmarket bars (unvisited) and a few locals places, which is more my thing anyway. Again with the ethnicity thing - I'm rather ashamed that I have come to notice this - but I had a splendid evening in a locals bar where I once again stood out but with the benefit of feeling like it was authentic and real. I was made to feel very much at home.

I visited Fort Conde today, which wasn't actually Fort Conde, but a 4:5 scale replica, not even on the original site of Fort Conde. ...If I'm being honest, even I wasn't able to get too enthusiastic about it. It was a bit naff and fake and twee. But there you go, it was the only Fort Conde in the vicinity, and I got to see some fake guns and some fake bastions, and was reminded of the whole Louisiana purchase thing, which is an interesting part of American history.

I'll be sad to leave Mobile, it is a really nice colonial town with a good feel about it. but I have New Orleans to look forward to next.

Fort Conde. ...Except that it isn't.

A cannon. I won't go into the technical details.

For those that really can't decide if they want starter or dessert, America has solved the problem. Both on one plate.

Day 9 - Mobile

Well I've felt like a dog with two dicks today. Went to the waterfront to see some brilliant stuff. Sadly, and as previously mentioned, I can't discuss any of it as it makes me look like a 'weirdo' and an 'oddball'. I'm not sure that isn't already abundantly clear to anyone reading this, but a promise is a promise. So you get the pictures, but without the highly educational and exceptionally interesting commentary.

I did find a cafe that properly tickled my fancy downtown today, and almost ran in to demand a decent cuppa. I spent a very pleasant hour people watching on the terrace, and freaked out passers by with my Mmmmm noises every time I took a refreshing sip.

I know that I’ve been doing a lot of complaining so far in this blog - and part of that is probably jet lag, and part mid-life crisis. I should clarify however, that being British, I don’t openly complain, that would be far too impolite, so I use the blog as a pressure valve to complain in my head - on the Internet ...which is available to the whole world. ...I’ve confused myself now. 

Anyway it doesn’t matter, because it’s just pulling pigtails and not genuine annoyance. That is…. with one exception. The ‘Blowin Smoke BBQ and Grill Cantina’ (love ‘Cantina’ btw, reminds me of Mos Eisley every time) which is a place you’d surely imagine to be a soft rock paradise or at the very least a good ole boys Country AND Western joint and therefore authentically Southern USA, decided to assault my eardrums with Coldplay all night. And I fucking hate Coldplay. No amount of Louisiana BBQ smoke could smother the dreadful middle class dinner party background music durge ’where is that bottle of Limoncello we picked up in Tuscany last year Verity? That would go just perfectly with the cheese course!’ No it fucking wouldn’t you pompous show-off can only manage a semi on a good day, dick. It quite put me off my ribs I can tell you. 

US Navy stealth ship. It's a bit difficult to make out ....as you might expect. 

USS Alabama at rest.

Extra points for knowing what is wrong with this pic...

I've already said too much.

The Spot of Tea! Lovely!

Day 8 - Mobile

Weather - It's fine. I'm going to stop this bit until the weather gets interesting.

I ought to say a few words about Montgomery as there is for once quite a bit of touristy stuff going on. 

Obviously the big draw is the Hank Williams statue and nearby museum. After experiencing the statue in all is grandeur, I felt the museum might just be a bit overwhelming for me, so didn’t risk it in the end. 

The first Confederate White House (and I won’t go in to what that is, it’s a war thing and I’ve been advised by a close confidante not to major on that topic in my writing) was smaller that I imagined it would be, but I’m sure Jefferson Davis found it ample for his needs.  I rather liked it I have to say. The same is true of the Confederate war memorial ...I’ll leave it there. 

The thing that brought me to tears however was the Rosa Parks bus stop memorial. Probably the least imposing memorial you’ll ever see for such an amazing and brave woman. If you don’t know who Rosa Parks is, do google her. A single act of seemingly impossible courage can change the world. That’s some heavy shit to soak up - but we would all do well to remember it. I’m welling up just writing about it I don’t mind telling you. She, and the movement she helped give birth to are revered in Montgomery and rightly so. The town is strewn with info-boards and murals dedicated to the struggle for racial equality. 

I’ve now left Montgomery behind me and am in Mobile, Alabama. My first seaside stop. Travelling on Black Friday meant it was just me and 6 convicts on the bus. I have absolutely no idea what they were doing there. On the run? Home for the holidays? Unsupervised community service? No clue. For the record, they all seemed like terribly nice highly tattooed chaps ....I still kept my shit tight and endlessly checked phone was still in pocket.  

I'm not allowed to say anything about this.

Or this.

Rosa Parks sparked a fire that just couldn't be put out, and it is remembered with great respect and I sense, pride in Montgomery.

Hank. Yep. Erm... yep. Well Hank Williams fans are entitled to their own memorial aren't they?

I got something in my eye when I stood in front of the bus stop.

Day 7 - Montgomery (Thanksgiving)

Weather - 19c Real feel 23c, unlike a London 19c, Real feel -3c

Thanksgiving in the deep South. I thought I'd be stuck in my motel room watching re-runs of Friends Seinfeld and infomercials, and sure, I spent an hour desperately wanting to buy a new cooks knife if only I could find a US postal address to send them to. You see you don't just get the forged steel knife, scientifically proven to be extra knifey, you also get a set of steak knives, an orange peeler, a new kitchen, AND a cuddly toy all for the same great price of $39.99. I really was sorely tempted.

But I wasn't stuck in my motel room. So I got up, showered, and went for a walk. I'll tell you about all the many many great things Montgomery has to offer the 2 day tourist tomorrow, but as I found myself in the middle of a Thanksgiving parade - which I never knew existed as a thing - I'll focus on that. It was really good! The town turned out to watch mostly high school kids march their way through the main street and the kids were actually not that terrible! ...well some were a bit lacklustre, but most of them played, marched, danced and generally showed off like kids do. I found myself smiling at the whole spectacle and glad I caught it.

I'm staying in a proper My Name Is Earl motel in...... yep, the dodgy end of town. The new lock on the door, which has obviously recently replaced the previous 27 locks ripped from the doorframe, hides a little gem of a room. To be honest, I'll stay in worse. My neighbours seem to be very much in love and didn't mind shouting about it. It got to the point last night where I wasn't quite sure whether to call 911 or offer up a round of applause. Twice.

So my diet has become an absolute car crash since arriving. Not that I'm shocked by that, I expected it. Dining out on a modest budget means way too much fast food and if you walk in to a proper restaurant and don't end up with an order of wings in front of you, then you're really not getting into the spirit of things. Never mind, I've got Mexico and some lighter options to look forward to. ......although I've seen a lot of fat Mexicans about. Jesus, I really can't afford an American waistline, or American arteries. I'll just have to starve myself is all.

I have to say, these lovely ladies strutted all of the funky stuff they had and more. I admired their hutzpah enormously.

There isn't much you can't fry and pass off as an Alabamian delicacy.

These guys came right out of the top draw. Very good!

The motel management absolutely insist on clearing up the hypodermics from the parking lot every morning without fail. It's a matter of pride.

Day 6 - Montgomery

weather - 17c still a darn sight better than SE England right now 🖕

Bus stations are pretty grim places you know. I’ve spend a great deal of time in them now, and they remind me of The Wire, especially the big city ones. They all appear to be in a grubby part of town and act as a lodestone for those less fortunate members of US society. Plus, without going into the whole ethnicity thing, I stick out a bit. I normally have about $40 in my back pocket just as walking around money, and if you exclude the hookers and drug dealers, I’m almost certainly the most affluent dude within a 500m radius of the station by about €39.75. So you get hassled a lot, and the conversation is always the same; ‘how are you today sir?... great! Can you spare some change? I’m homeless and want to get me a burger, I haven’t eaten in two days.’ That is normally followed by a disappointed rage with arms being flung skywards, lots of foot stomping and a lot of ‘Damn’-ing. I can’t write 'damn' in Southern American, but vocally, the ‘a’ lasts for about 5 minutes and starts an octave higher than it finishes. 

I had to wash my smalls at the Atlanta hotel as I couldn’t find any suitable labour to attend to the task on my behalf. I’m not sure I’ll take it up professionally to be honest. Everything ended up a bit over-soaped, and the dried articles seemed a bit.... greasy I guess you’d say. Hopefully the extra soaping will just mean extra wear, not an uncomfortable rash. 

So I've found myself in Montgomery Alabama, home of the American Civil Rights Movement. Montgomery holds much promise, but I got here rather late as the Thanksgiving traffic was appalling. The town (city) looks rather well to do but on this particular evening there was, as it transpired, fuck all to do. So I ducked in to one of the few bars not locked and barred, and settled in for a quiet evening of reading on my own. Thanksgiving is a time for family and not many families make it to the pub on Thanksgiving Eve it seems. Ffs. Cheers 🙄 

When you get right down to it, I don't talk Gangsta, I don't bling a great deal, I don't have many gold teeth have a baseball hat, or wear my Levis around my ankles. That does set me apart from the crowd somewhat. 

Everybody now, 'Roll out the barrel... Roll out the Barrel... What? No-one knows that one?

Day 5 - Atlanta

Weather 16c ...Disappointingly close to London at 3c

Sometimes you just ask the wrong question at the wrong time, and invariably you get an irritated and  wrong answer back, or worse still, no answer at all.
I asked the stressed out guy running the breakfast buffet if he had any tea this morning. The look he gave me could have felled an elephant. He ignored me, and went back to picking up the multicoloured Cherrios they have over here that had been scattered like cereal confetti over the entire breakfast area, tables, and most of the patrons. I reluctantly settled for coffee and decided to come back later and start the whole breakfast thing anew. It's not the first time I've thought of myself before others, and I suspect, not the last.

So Atlanta has been both a smashing place to visit and also a minor disappointment. Gone are the colonial buildings of yore that I so wanted to see (but then I remembered that they were all burned in the Civil War 150 years ago, so a degree of forgiveness is probably due). In their place is a modern metropolis, the kind that I had hoped to largely avoid, but with The World of Coca-Cola slap bang in the middle of it to compensate. Plus I got the added bonus of spending my time in Atlanta with American family, all of whom were incredibly lovely, even Mia, who did her best to hide from the big nasty man with the funny accent for the entire time we were together.
World of Coca-Cola, for anyone wishing to follow in my footsteps, is ok actually. I can't claim to be a Coke fanatic, but if you are, then the home of tooth rot will definitely be for you. You get to see the vault where the secret recipe is quite obviously not actually stored, and you get to drink all the fizzy drink you want from the global Coca-Cola family. If that all sounds like your thing, you're going to get very hyper very quickly and I'm sure have a super time.

.....Next up, Montgomery Alabama and Thanksgiving.

Frankly my dear, historic Atlanta appeared to have gone up in smoke some considerable while ago.

I have literally no commentary for this pic. If you can't figure it out for yourselves, go back to looking at cute cat pics on Facebook right now. 

I enjoyed the apple pie cola very much indeed, but water melon Smarty Sprite from China left me cold, and with an aftertaste that persisted for the remainder of the afternoon.

Day 4 - Atlanta

Weather - 22c ..and it had been snowing in Bulgaria

Man, there are a LOT of churches in the South. I reckon Savannah had 1 or 2 per city block. I have no objection you understand, if you want an urgent pray, it's a good thing that you'll never be caught short, but there must be more churches than McDonalds, and there are a LOT of McDonalds over here (as you might imagine). In the UK I think we've closed all but about 15 churches and a couple of cathedrals haven't we? And the cathedrals are just for tourists these days as far as I'm aware. Anyway, God still does a roaring trade over here and it probably goes some way to explaining all the smiles and politeness. I felt my karma was in danger of being in deficit, so attempted a few smiles myself today at the bus station ...and got asked for money quite a lot in return.

Never make assumptions, we all know that, but there are times when one just can't help it and I can be as guilty as anyone. One assumption I made, not unreasonably I thought, was that the "Country Inn & Suites' would be a nice low rise of aesthetically pleasing rooms and apartments, with possibly some soothing background music running throughout the serene complex. Somewhere I could lay my weary head while anticipating the delights of touring Atlanta. Sadly it isn't. It's actually fine to be fair, but the optimistic name amused me somewhat when I was confronted by the reality.

One of my big concerns about being in the US at this time has been Thanksgiving which is this week. I didn't particularly fancy spending this significant holiday on a bus station bench drinking a quart of gin out of a brown paper bag with the other hobos. So I have belatedly picked a spot and booked both a Greyhound ticket and cheap hotel for a couple of nights. So I will be spending Thanksgiving in..... Alabama. Montgomery to be exact. The Prancing Unicorns & Ambrosia Palace I think the name of the hotel was. Something like that anyway. I've adjusted my expectations downwards in any event.

I absolutely promise to have some actual photos of Atlanta tomorrow. It will be my first real day of being a proper tourist.

Oh come on...... How does a great big grey concrete box sat on the side of a highway relate in any way to the cutesy sounding 'Country Inn & Suites'?

I risked a selfie today and wasn't so appalled by the results that I'm braving making it public. 

Day 3 - Savannah

Weather - 22c Cloudy with the risk of meatballs in the afternoon

I'll be in Atlanta for the next post but I wanted to take this opportunity to highlight some quirks that I've been reminded of since arriving.

So here is a thing that I'd totally forgotten about the USA. Whatever advertised price it says for a thing, ignore it and add 50% to reach the figure you'll actually end up paying. I paid for a hotel room today and what with city tax, taxes (other, not specified), cleaning fee, single room supplement, VAT, GST, blah blah blah, the whole thing went from attractively reasonable, to flipping expensive! The same is true of shopping for clothes, and as for eating and drinking, if you don't leave a 20% tip for pouring a pint into a glass and plonking it down on the bar, they call the cops on you (not literally I'll admit, but the pouty faces for not handing over many many extra dollars for what is essentially someone just doing what they are paid to do is infuriating.) Yes yes, I get the whole minimum wage being made up for by the generosity of patrons thing but that's for the employer to make right, not me surely? Asking me to second guess what 'fair and reasonable' looks like is a lottery I'd rather not enter. If you want me to pay $12 for a gin & tonic with strawberry halves, just say so up front, don't leave me wondering if I've been stupidly generous or disappointingly thrifty.

Now I've got todays rant out of the way, we can concentrate on more pleasant matters. Rain. It rained unexpectedly in Savannah yesterday and made me a touch homesick. Fortunately it was just a shower, not 3 months solid of windblown drizzle, so it was only reminiscent, not an exact copy of UK weather. It did give me the opportunity to seek out a nice cup of tea in what was advertised as a cafe teeming with cats 'for your enjoyment'. Sadly no cats were in evidence and the cafe's USP rather floundered as a result. They made a passible attempt at tea making to their credit though.

One final thing. American public loos have all got a bit missing on the bum seat (see pic). I won't go into the reasons why there is a bit missing, that should be rather obvious. I think I rather like it. It does however encourage lifting and replacing laziness of course, and an unsteady hand just means more clearing up post-event (assuming one has the decency to oblige). In fact, now I come to think about it, I'm not sure it's very hygienic. It's an excellent idea, but somewhat let down by the peril of inaccuracy, and at the mercy of whatever shower head setting the male user might employ at the time.

This was meant to be a shot of cute cats by the thousand. Maybe they get Sundays off? Still, I rather enjoyed the solitude to be honest.

Let's face it, most men can't hit a cows backside with a banjo, so it goes down as a worthy effort at efficiency, but ultimately, flawed.

Day 2 - Savannah

Weather - 24c the whole live long day

Oh Savannah, you wonderful, not destroyed in the American Civil war, historical by American standards, rather nice town.
Now I've got that out of the way, I'd like to make a declaration to the inhabitants of the USA; I am not, categorically, definitively, and by genetic online testing proof, Australian. There are two basic English accents to the American ear, and I am born of the correct and better one. When you mistake an Australian for being British may think they have just been given a promotion and be ok with it, that's not for me to say. Mistaking a Brit for an Aussie however has the opposite effect. Anyway, I've been asked 'Where are you from? Australia?' about a dozen times so far.
On a slightly brighter note, most folk I've met have been terribly nice and very polite indeed. I've had lots of unsolicited smiles too. A lady positively beamed at me as she walked past me yesterday in downtown Savannah. It struck me as a little odd, given I was unshaven, jet lagged and basically looked, felt, and I'm pretty sure smelled, like a bag of old spanners. So I took it as being part and parcel of good old Southern hospitality rather than an animal magnetism kind of thing.

As stated, Savannah is quite delightful. Having glimpsed Miami, Orlando in the dark, and Jacksonville for an hour, the big cities seem largely generic and anonymous. Not so with Savannah. Navigable, full of character, and almost quaint in style. Not the bit I'm in to be fair, but the rest of it at least.
I rather fancied a chicken curry last night for some reason, but as the deep South doesn't major on Indian cuisine, had to settle for some wings, which in the end proved an excellent substitute.

Am very happy to say that after my long journey, I've allowed another day to enjoy Savannah, then I'm off to Atlanta in the morning to meet some family members who I've not met before. Which is quite exciting.

I won't post any pics of the place I'm staying - my mother is concerned enough as it is. Instead, a more upmarket Savannah boulevard...

I honestly don't know what this building is, but as I'm not quite ready for a selfie, it's all you're getting for now.

Day 1 - Miami

Weather 23c - In your face London

I'm posting this from my fabulously good value AirBnB room in historic Savannah after an awfully long trip starting in Oxted, Surrey some 37 hours ago. My accommodation for the next two days was marketed as 'Marginal. Urban. Ghetto. Gentrifying. Sketchy.' Only one of those words really stood out as being even vaguely attractive to me, but the price was on point and my host to be fair, is actually really really nice. More on Savannah tomorrow.

I've posted about the hideous pain involved in entering the USA in another blog, so I won't go into all that again. Suffice to say, it was the standard skull bustingly frustrating experience it always is, and this time I was treated to being marched in to an office for a private interview with a special investigator. 20 minutes of him staring at me and shaking his head at every answer I gave (mostly regarding the Mexican bit of my trip) he sighed 'travel safely' and let me go. Not a great confidence boost I have to say.   

I've already been treated to a wide array of colourful characters, travelling as I am on the one of the few means of transport available to the disadvantaged and mentally challenged. I sat for 5 hours next to a woman who chanted 'I'm going to smack you up bitch' at varying degrees of fever pitch with the occasional Mm-mm-mm by way of punctuation. No-one seemed to care too much, they all appeared to have their own personal nightmares they were working through. In truth, it felt more like a day trip from the asylum than a pure transportation service. I guess I'll acclimatise.

I'm knackered now. Need a kip #toooldforthisshit

Tour admin ; Plane films
(Han) Solo - Better than anticipated actually. Paul Bettany was suitably menacing, Woody Harrelson engaging, Warwick Davis predictably short, and Emily Thingamabob from Game of Thrones eminently shagable.
Mama Mia, Here I Fucking Go Again - Awful. Simply Awful. Gave up after 25 minutes. 25 minutes of my life I'll never get back I might add.
The Royal Hibiscus Hotel - Jesus Christ, even worse than Mama Mia. I've seen better primary school nativity plays.
Anchorman The Legend of Ron Burgundy - Awesome and one of Ferrells best. I'd quite forgotten about Tits Mcgee. So much better than the other dross on offer I watched it twice.

Warming up for my very first all American heart attack en route.

Clearly running out of photograph opportunities this early in proceedings

Domestics

As usual, I wanted to start by a bit of scene setting. I'm off on another wee jolly. This time, I'm breaking myself in gently by visiting our ex-colonial cousins in North America for a couple of weeks, followed by a spectacularly dangerous backpack along the Mexican drug route (pictured below). The plan as it currently stands, is to start in Miami and get as far as Guatemala, El Salvador and finally Belize, but we'll see if the 8 weeks I have allowed is enough for all of that. Once in Mexico, almost every single town I expect to stop at, is a handing off point for narcotics moving from South America in to the USA. That being the case, the chances of being shot dead, kidnapped or just simply mugged, is even higher than normal. I'll be honest and admit to a few butterflies about all of those possibilities, shot dead being probably my least favourite of all.    

As I’m going to the America’s. That means there will undoubtedly be an enormous amount of excellent food on offer. from Southern BBQ, to Mexican burritos, tacos, tortillas, quesadillas - basically all the same fare but folded slightly differently. The hope is that a fortnight in the USA getting fat will be offset by 6 weeks of Mexican food poisoning and resultant weight loss. 

It also means there will likely be a great deal of Aerosmith, a small dose of Van Halen and maybe a touch of Guns n Roses to add some attitude to the mix by way of a soundtrack. Obviously I’ll include a sprinkling of Def Leppard, so as not to ignore Her Britannic Majesty’s favourite rock gods (we did gift the genre to the world after all). 

I will be leaving my Union Jack shorts in the drawer at home this time around - our reputation for even handed hegemony in the world never really recovered after Suez, and a degree of anonymity is my only real defence against being beheaded by a Mexican drug cartel. Following the same logic, my pith helmet, swagger stick and most eccentric genocidal Victorian Generals Panini sticker album also remain in storage for this trip. ....I imagine it will be fine.