Archive for April, 2009

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California waiting

30/04/2009

Crikey I’m tired. Didn’t sleep very well last night and had to be up at 6 to catch the bus to Diego. Reckon I got 1 hour, I’m like Margaret Thatcher I am.

Last night we went up The Stratosphere with a couple who both work at the hostel (1 of them being the Irish guy who sortred out the Limo thing), nice folks. The Stratosphere is basically a tall hotel which has 3 extreme rides on the top. 3 extreme rides that I utterly refused to go on, no way Jose. Still the view was good from up there.

When we reach our destination (it takes 8 hours) I’m going to take it easy and have a much needed pit stop. I desperatley need to do some clothes washing too, I’m close to having to give my socks individual names as they appear to have mutated into actual life-forms.

Hopefully a good kip and I can start tomorrow anew. Me and Simon are planning on going surfing, well he’ll surf, but with my knees bodyboarding may be the safer option!

I may look to shave a day off LA so I can get an extra one in San Diego, otherwise I’ll only really have tomorrow. It depends whether I can swing it with my train ticket.

Vegas has it’s charms but I’ve had enough time there and was well ready for the off this morning. It all becomes a bit repetitive after a while.

Belt update, I bought a new one for $30 from Urban Outfitters so now I’m not like one of those annoying students who wears their trousers around their ankles on purpose. That’s a relief.

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Leaving Las Vegas

30/04/2009

Last night was an eventful one. An Irish bloke who works at the hostel where Jorma is staying was putting some sort of outing together; $35 for the limo, entrance to the MGM club and entrance to a strip club, ahem. We were both a bit unsure about it but decided to go with it.

Ridiculous measures of vodka were going round in the limo and it was hard to say no, I got stupidly drunk. I don’t actually remember much but I missed my flight to San Diego this morning (invariable really) lost my belt and had to cancel 2 credit cards which I thought I had lost. I probably spent the best part of a ton sorting stuff out on the phone ‘n all. All a bit depressing really.

So I checked into the hostel and will be getting the Greyhound bus in the morning, 8 hours on the mudda. A sound lad named Simon from Northern Ireland is making the trip with me though so it shouldn’t be too bad. He was on the tour thing last night with me and today we have just dicked about on the main strip, has been a laugh. He has 4 towels with him, what a ‘tard eh.

Just taking it easy with a couple of beers at the hostel now. Just a couple though, I’ve learnt my lesson, for a while anyway.

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Crapless craps

28/04/2009

Day 28 (in an annoying semi-posh Geordie accent).

Had an indifferent night; met some cool Swedes, Irish, Aussies and Kiwis and enjoyed it and then ended up in a club with Jorma (the Dutch lad I met in Flagstaff), playing r&b. Now in my mind original rhythm and blues from yesteryear is as fine a type of music as there is, but this utter dross that masquerades with the same name in the modern era is nothing short of horrific. A single toe wouldn’t move never mind my chuffin’ hips.

Anyways, later on I was around 70 metres from home at 04:18 and I was $30 down on the day, a little while later (05:38) and I was $30 up. Never liked losing, token efforts included. It was fun putting $40 on black (well I wasn’t gonna put it in red was I). Though the roulette attendent lady didn’t seem too happy when I left.

Now I’ve just got up and I’m in a bar on Fremont St longing for a full on Albion brekkie, too late was the cry though. I’ve had to settle for a Mexican swine burger, I hope it’s good. My recent meals have all been a bit bobbins. I also resent that I’m going to have to tip this miserable and slow waitress. Humbug bah.

I’ve wasted a lot of my Vegas time really, because of tiredness/hangovers I’ve not seen anything I had planned on. The good thing is that it’s an easy place to come back to someday so all is not lost eh.

Am meeting Jorma and some of the other chaps shortly, so more of the same!

San Diego tomorrow readers. Clure tells me that Arnold has got his Uzi 9mm out and declared a state of emergency. Lords knows what repercussions this will have for me.

Postscript – They must be getting this Mexican burger from Me’hico. Where is the bugger! I’m going to have to register an English complaint shortly. Don’t call me shortly pegleg.

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What happens in Vegas …

27/04/2009

I’ve been sat in an airport terminal for the past 2 and a half hours leeching wifi. I should really leave before I’m suspected as a terrorist and subject to, erm, probing.

The rental car was dropped off fine and I was relieved when they weren’t concerned about the copious amounts of bird shit and dead bugs covering the front. I wasn’t in the mood for a verbal ruck.

I’m feeling a tad peeky, like a bit of man flu coming on, all hot and weak. Only joking, sorry, in poor taste I know. I actually better watch out though as my next stop is San Diego right on the border.

Hmm, Texas bus drivers are nice and friendly where as Nevada ones appear to be aloof and surly, much more akin to our own in fact. I may write a book on ‘The psychology behind a bus driver’s temperament the world over’ on my return, or maybe not.

Now this is quite odd but cool too, I just went in to the hotel via the main entrance and there are 5 large Man City flags hanging from the front in perfect arrangement. This isn’t the case with any other hotels I’ve seen in town so I enquired what it was about with the manager, he made a phone call to check and then told me they were honouring Ricky Hatton as he is fighting here on Saturday. Ha.

I may be meeting up with a lad from the last hostel in a while if we can overcome communication issues, it shouldn’t be a problem, it is the digital age after all. He is staying somewhere on the main strip, the only problem is the strip is humongous. I’m sure I’ll find somet to do though if it goes tits up.

Beef jerky has become a regular item in my diet. It’s ruddy expensive though so I’m off out now to earn some green bills motherduckers. Show me the money.

So I’ve just been wondering round bemused by it all. I’ve never been able to grasp how fruit machines work so these slot machines may as well be in Arabic, though you would probably get a hand (maybe even 2) chopped of if you used it then. It’s a catch 27 scenario.

I had a little dabble on roulette as it’s the only one I understand enough. I’ve come to the conclusion that unless you bet big and win first time and then do one, you can’t actually make any sponds. Mug’s game this lark. There’s 2 things I like a wager on: soccer (!) and the little horses (me and Topcat have a twonk proof formula), I’m not cut out for anything else.

Since I’ve been in the States I’ve been told I look like one of The Beatles around 6 times. No particular one, just a generic Beatle, maybe Stewart Sutcliffe or perhaps even Zak’s Dad. These lookey likey calls are normally followed by a request for some dosh for various amounts and reasons; 2 bucks for a beer, $1 for the bus, 75 cents for a cigar etc. Lots of bums in America. They can jog on, I don’t even like the Beatle look.

I think I’m rambling now so I’ll say adiós. In my defence though this blogging game is my only refuge from over drinking when there’s nae bugger to gasbag with.

Over.

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If I was the Grand Canyon

26/04/2009

Note – Again, this is yesterday’s post as I couldn’t find a net connection.

Just another little whinge to start us off folks, the petty beaurcracy and ID craze is starting to do my nut in. About 10 of us from the hostel went out and they wouldn’t let me and another Dutch lad (Jorma, who I’m due to meet up with in Sin City) because “Driving licenses are not an acceptable form of identification for purchasing alcohol in the state of Arizona”, which is funny because I’d already used it several times in Arizona for that very purpose.

So we had to nip back to the hostel to pick up our passports. Many of you will know why I prefer not to take my passport out when I’m due to be intoxicated, think Finland. The daft bit is that 1 Belgian lad who was underage (and looked it) got in fine with someone else’s passport which looked nothing like him. This country.

I stand by my statement that this is the best hostel I’ve stayed at. Great location, good facillities, cheap, brekkie included and interesting people. There appears to be some sort of Spanish commune hippy troop staying at the moment, a very unusual looking crowd indeed.

The journey to the Grand Canyon was enjoyable. Driving (with cruise control) through beautiful forestry with my shades on while listening to Paul Simon – ‘Diamonds on the soles of her shoes’ (tune!) on the radio.

Spectacular is the only word for the canyon itself, I’ve never taken so many pictures. As per usual though I didn’t have nearly enough time. I explored most of the west side of the South Rim but I barely started on the east side, where some of the trails get you really close to the Colorado River. I was also gutted that I didn’t stay for sunset but with another 300 miles in front of me I had to roll y’all. I shall return.

I’m currently in a proper American trucker cafe having nipped off Interstate 40 for a wee rest. There’s about 17 things on the menu I could easily go for but I’ve opted for the chicken parmesan. It comes with garlic bread (though it’s just turned up and it’s actually fried bread!), spaghetti bolognese and a trip to the soup and salad bar. Ain’t I a lucky boy.

It was pretty ‘angin’ really apart from the salad, but job done eh. Back on the road.

Going over the Hoover Dam was cool, an amazing structure. I’d have like to have done it during the daytime to get a real feel for the scale but it has other qualities at the night anyway.

Okay, hello Vegas. What’s this valet parking malarkey about? I’ve driven 700+ miles and I have to hand the keys over to someone else for the last 20 metres. Oh well, when in Rome.

BTW 130 mph is my new record. Roman style roads just over the Nevada state border!

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The fast and the furious

25/04/2009

The lasange and meatballs I had with garlic bread last night was beaut, nicely washed down with a couple of bottles of Heiniken. Though I did feel a bit like a William zero pals sat on my own reading Don Quixote (the phone tells me I’m now 10.4% in apparently) next to a rowdy group of 20.

Speaking of food, it’s a good thing I’m not staying a The Roadrunner hostel any longer as the free waffles and syrup every morning are very nice but not so good for fat back (slight build-up of fatty deposits just above the waist line) prevention.

It’s been a pretty stressful morning so far. I missed my bus to the airport (though it must have come at least 5 minutes early) because I was trying to find somewhere to buy a bottle of water (I’ve found America to have a distinct lack of Spar like shops) and when I found a bakery selling some, there was a delay because a tramp was clearly trying to use a credit card that wasn’t his to pay for $20 worth of grub.

Then while asking a couple of drivers when the next one would be there were communication issues, no matter how many times I said the word ‘airport’ they weren’t getting it, even when I tried saying it like The Queen. I only got them to understand me when I done an impression of a plane, ‘tards.

Okay, I’m on a later bus now and only about 40 minutes behind. Weird lot on the bus though. If you put a big top over them you could charge an entry fee.

Right, I’ve picked the car up (a nice Volvo S60 with a daunting amount of buttons in the interior) and I’m all set to go to town.

If things go right pear shaped the vehicle has airbags at the front, side and even above. The above one being known as a VIC (Volvo Inflatiable Curtain). Ahem, I may have had a flick though the manual over lunch.

Apart from highly sensitive brakes at low speeds the car is a nice smooth ride. The automatic side of things took a little bit of getting used to as it creeps without any gas, good thing there was one of those tyre high parking barriers there for when I started her up the first time! Speed wise I got her up to 120 at one point and I reckon there was still plenty left to go.

So the 270 miles passed without any incident really. I didn’t even bother stopping in Phoenix as I didn’t know what downtown parking would be like and I couldn’t be arsed trying to find my way back on to the motorway, sorry interstate. There’s beautiful country once you get past Phoenix, not that I got to appreciate it much as I was dealing with the sweeping downhill curves through huge valleys.

I didn’t even have any directional problems apart from when I got to Flagstaff when the right turn that was supposed to be there wasn’t. I soon found my way through the oneway system though and the motor is now safely in the hostel car park. Belter.

Speaking of the hostel (The Grand Canyon International) I think this might be the best one I’ve ever stayed at, it’s also very cheap at $17 a night.

The little I’ve seen of Flagstaff so far looks nice too, it reminds me a bit of Aviemore in Scotland. It’s a bit blody nippy though, there’s a right wind up I tell thee.

Petra from the train is at the same hostel so I’ll get to have a few bevvies with a friend for the first time since New York, corr that feels like ages ago! I’m not gonna hammer it too much though as I need to get up early (again! I became a professional bum to avoid that very thing) to make the most of my one day at The Grand Canyon, I should have allowed more time really.

Oh, one other thing to mention; I got a very short bit of driving done on the famous Route 66, so that was quite cool.

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Roadrunner roadrunner

24/04/2009

It’s a shame I only have a fleeting visit to Tucson, it seems a cool place.

Suprisingly after my Amtrak adventures, I didn’t sleep all that well last night. This was due partly to over keen air conditioning and partly to a pillow (and I use that term loosely) that is like an actual size primary school PE bean bag minus the beans. I’ve swapped it with one on a spare bunk so happy days (or night) from here on in.

I had a walk about downtown and 4th and 6th Streets seem to be where it’s all happening. Lots of cool thrift and vintage shops.

One shop sold nice brown belts for just 8 bucks, I’m in the market for such a belt. Unfortunately the largest size of 4 available (XL) didn’t even fit me which I found quite amusing considering I only have a 33 waist and you don’t have to go to far to find a chubby Yank, the shopkeeper didn’t seem to share my amusement.

What I do find annoying is the obsession with draconian over the top rules all over the place, ID crazy they is. I even had to show it while looking (not even buying) round some hippy shop that happened to be selling some smoking paraphenalia, ridiculous. The final straw was been asked to leave my small day backpack behind the counter in a ruddy thrift store, madness.

Another cool magnet was purchased today, some sort of Japanese anime I think. To my horror though I have realised that I didn’t get a magnet in Philly. For someone with mild OCD/OPCD tendencies like myself this presents a dilemma, so much so that I may even make a wee day trip back there on my return to NY. What a twonk.

I’m going to take it easy tonight as I’m up early to pick-up my monster truck from the airport. I spotted a nice little cheap(ish) Italian restaurant so a couple of beers and a lasagne and that’s me.

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Down at Del Rio

22/04/2009

The Stranglers once said “No more heroes anymore”, they were wrong. Yesterday I trecked to the train station around 3 and a half miles away, in soaring temperatures (about 35•C), with a huge bag on my back and a fever all the while. I expect the Foreign Legion to be in contact shortly hoping to garner some endurance/survival tips. Forget Will Smith, I am legend.

So now it’s just after midday and I’ve been on the train since the previous evening. It took 2 hours to get to San Anton (that’s what the locals call it) from Austin, then we had an 8 hour layover while the staff got some kip. I’m due in Tucson at about 11ish tonight and touch wood we’ll be on time (we are at the moment) otherwise I may have some trouble checking into the the hostel and have to park bench it!

I love these trains, they are completely geared up to enjoying the landscapes on offer. Plenty of room in reasonably comfy seats (though sleeping is still difficult, an hour here and there) that the staff spin round for you so you’re facing the right way when the train changes direction. There is even a viewing lounge with couches and huge windows that allow you to take the vistas in panoramically.

I’ve met some interesting, nice and cool people here; a lady named Petra from Brighton who is mates with I Am Kloot (possibly my favourite band), an American/Egyptian/Italian freight train jumper named Oggy and another Yank train jumper (and also a beat-boxin’ guitarist) called Kenny. My bourbon went south pretty quickly.

I’m listening to Vetiver on the iPhone and to my left I can see the sort of terrain that you could imagine Butch Cassidy being tracked by Texas Rangers in. I can see it raining over a ridge many leagues away and further to the right in the distance there is a cloud of smoke flying high above what could be a canyon. Magical.

The states are clocking up for the trip overall too, I’ve been in at least a dozen so far. I think by the end of my journey I will have visited maybe half of the 50 on offer. Now there’s a good excuse to come back and take care of the rest eh.

I’m a bit smelly no doubt and as a consequence of persitent sleep deprivation I’m starting to gain a passing resemblence to Keith Richards but I don’t mind as the scenery conquers all.

This Saturday I will be picking a car up from Tucson airport and driving to Flagstaff (via a spot of lunch in Phoenix). The following morning I’ll head to the Grand Canyon and ultimately over the Hoover Dam to Vegas baby. I’m a bit nervous as I’ve not been in charge of 4 wheels (supermarket trollys excluded) for quite some time, add automatic gearing and the wrong side of the road to the mix and it poses quite the challenge. Oh for a 2 stroke engine and an Italian frame.

Oh dear, there is a bridge down a few miles up the track apparently which means an unwanted 2 hour delay. This is big trouble in little China for my accomodation plans. Oh well, all an adventure eh.

On the plus side I’m currently participating in an Amtrak run communal trivia quiz while watching mini sand twisters on the plains, hawks in the sky and a great fork lightning storm going all around. As a teenage mutent ninja/hero turtle might well say, awesome.

A while later and we’ve just been through El Paso and am now about to cross the Rio Grande, with it leaving Texas and entering New Mexico. It’s going to be very tight to make the hostel in time but all is not yet lost readers.

Several more hours later and good news, the train is in Arizona and it’s more or less back on schedule so everything should be top banana for the hostel. The folks staying on heading over to California have a layover in Yuma to look forward to.

All in all I’ve been impressed with the setup, a good way to travel. The scran isn’t too bad either and is relatively cheap (relative to UK trains). I’m not that arsed about the several 40+ hour trips I’ve still to make with Amtrak, though maybe I’ll bring 2 quarter bottles of Kentucky bourbon next time round.

Okay, finally in the hostel (which seems nice) now. I fell asleep and the train got in to Tucson slightly early, luckily I’d had the foresight to set an alarm (that went off just as the train pulled in) otherwise I may well have woke up in LA. Crikey.

Sleep.

PS I seem to have neglected to mention that on my odyssey to the train station in Austin, I stopped halfway for a cheesy bacon cheeseburger with fries at TGI Fridays. What? Heroes gotta eat too you know.

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Blame it on the Tetons

22/04/2009

Bonus post people.

I don’t know what it is about the States, but this is the 2nd time I’ve had a ridiculously bad hangover which hasn’t hit until the afternoon. It’s murder.

I just trundled down to the shop to pick up some supplies for the train (including some bourbon, never know when you might need some bourbon) and the heat is impressively oppressive. I’m not looking forward to the journey to the station in my current state.

Also, every time I glance at my bag it grows, it’s getting freaky. An American bloke (who has been living in South Korea for the last 20 years) at the hostel said you can get cheaper postage rates if you include media (say a book) in the package for some reason, I shall explore this.

Man, I ain’t ever been so tired.

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Lonely blue boy is my name

22/04/2009

Alrighty there now folks, how the devil are ya? Me, I’ve got a hangover I have.

‘Lonely blue boy is my name’ was the title of a song I saw performed last night for the curious amongst y’all.

I got some snuff from a garage yesterday, good stuff as well. I thought they only done it in Scandinavia but alas it’s not so. It’s ‘frost’ flavoured too, the direct equivalent of your menthol fags if you like.

I went for student town in the end, a tame 4 mile stroll from base camp. Nae bother for a seasoned pro like me sen, though I should maybe mention that my feet are starting to look like they were used as stunt doubles in ‘Passion of the Christ’. I was headed for a bar I liked the sound of called ‘Hole in the wall’.

My route had been worked so that I went back over Congress Avenue bridge again and timed it perfectly to arrive for round 2 of bat attack. Now here is the point that I admit my numbers were slightly off in my last report, by about a factor of 75. Where’s rainman (Jimbo Tierney) when you need him? There were actually 750,000 of them and this figure doubles to 1.5 mil in mid-summer when the bat-mams have given birth.

I passed an art-house cinema on the way which was showing Gomorrah in about 15 minutes, I was very tempted as I’ve wanted to see that flick for ages but I managed to resist.

The bar was excellent, exactly the sort of Southern dive I’ve been searching for. Brilliant music (skiffle powered alt-country) abounded and it was all on the free too. I got very very drunk on the cheap Lone Star beer, so drunk in fact that I think I may have fell over and they then refused to serve me. I’d have been served back in The Albion, the Yanks are just quite picky on these things, even in deep deep Texan Texas. My head is a bit sore.

Strange place this USA. I realised a thick skin was necessary early on and adapted accordingly, but it still has it’s moments. Compadres are made in seconds and lost in milliseconds. it’s all very odd but like Mr Zimmerman said, “Friends will arrive, friends will dissapear”. That’s good enough for me.

The train (to Tucson, Arizona – I love the name of the city and state) is at 7 this eve and now I’m just killing time in the hostel listening to the best radio station I’ve ever heard. No talk, just tune after tune, a diverse range ‘n all. I maybe only know 40% of them but I still like the other 60. ‘Devil Town’ by Bright Eyes has just come on, I sing it often in the shower.

I’ll leave you with something Nimrod reminded me of earlier which made me piss my sides. While working in PC Support at Manchester Uni, a girl from HR rang me up and said (in the Mancest of Manc accents) “Is that computas? It’s me printa, it’s makin’ a sound like an ‘oover”.

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Posted in USA | 4 Comments »

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