Hotel Rules

I spend a lot of time in hotels. People who don't tend to think that because they're paying, almost anything goes. This isn't true - the staff are not your personal slaves, they're trying to make a living as best they can, just like you. Some basic rules that I think need to be observed:

1. If you're a guy, don't come down to breakfast in a sleeveless vest unless you shave your armpits. It's just gross. Come to think of it, this applies to women too.
2. If the elevator door is closing, you've missed it. Don't stick your arm in the door. Quite apart from the obvious risk, your time is not more valuable than mine, no matter what you might think.
3. If you're a kid, don't come down to breakfast in your PJs. You're not at home, or didn't your parents tell you that?
4. Use the tongs to pick up food. Again, you're not at home.
5. If free food is provided, don't pile your plate high. It just makes you look greedy, and poor.
6. There is never a good reason to wear sunglasses or a baseball cap indoors.
7. Everybody finds it hilarious when all the buttons in the elevator are pressed - never miss an opportunity to do it. And tell your kids, so they can share in the fun.
8. Housekeeping's job is to keep the place clean and tidy. That doesn't excuse you from basic rules of hygiene.

I hate computers

I hate computers. Perhaps I should qualify that - it's the underlying technology that I hate. I'm not a Luddite - I don't hate all technology, but I do hate imperfect technology.

Imagine that your car was as reliable as your computer. Here's some of the scenarios you might encounter:

• You're driving along, and suddenly nothing is responsive: the accelerator won't accelerate, the brakes don't stop, the steering wheel won't turn.
• You're driving along, and a message pops up: You're using fuel gauge version 2.1, and version 2.2 is available - install now? And when you say no, another message pops up: Remind me again in 1 day/3 days/7 days?
• Every year a new model comes out, and they've moved the dials, controls and buttons around. Not only that, but some of them work in a completely different way, and some of them don't seem to be there any more. They are, but you have to know where to look.
• The radio stops working, and the only way to fix it is to stop the car, and restart it.
• The engine starts revving for no apparent reason. Something's going on, but there's no indication what it might be.
• You have to pay an annual fee to make sure that everything continues to work the way it was supposed to work anyway.
• You try to turn off the ignition, and a message pops up: Installing update 1 of 17 - please do not turn off your engine.
• The headlights start flashing on and off, and the message on the dash says: "The description for Event ID ( 0 ) in Source ( gupdate ) cannot be found. You may not have the necessary registry information or message DLL files. You may be able to use the /AUXSOURCE= flag to resolve this issue." Oh good - glad we managed to pin that down.
• The display that's supposed to advise you about low fuel or overheating offers an unbelievable deal on Viagra.

You probably think I'm joking. I spend my working life with supposedly industrial strength technology - major companies depend on it: airlines, banks, health care, retail, law enforcement - and I know what it looks like under the covers. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Saturday in Pittsburgh

I like Pittsburgh. The dirty, dilapidated steel town I was expecting to find certainly existed 30 years ago – but it’s now clean and beautifully regenerated, with new and old comfortably co-existing. It’s compact – hemmed in on all sides by Appalachian hills, it has no choice. In what other city in the USA can you walk from the ball park to the football stadium to the hockey arena? It’s bike-friendly – there are miles of bicycle trails, many of them following the banks of the rivers that converge here: the Allegheny, the Ohio and the Monongahela. And Mr Rogers, an American icon, was born and lived most of his life here.

On the Allegheny

This weekend is a football weekend, and this is most definitely a football town. The Panthers – the Pittsburgh University college team – are playing today, and the Steelers – the NFL team – are playing their season opener tomorrow. I would be going to one of the games if the tickets were not so expensive – literally hundreds of dollars. My hotel is close to both the ball park and the football stadium, and the parking lots started filling up with tailgate parties at 9am. I’m heading in the opposite direction to almost everyone else.

Old and new

My first stop is underneath the Roberto Clemente Bridge – a bridge that I cross every day on my way to work. They rent kayaks for $16 per hour, and I want to see Pittsburgh from water level. It’s been years since I did anything like this, and I was surprised to find that it was my back that gave out first, and not my arms and shoulders! But it was peaceful to meander along the rivers that I have often walked or cycled beside, weaving through gaggles of Canada geese and their young.

After kayaking, I purchased a Powerball ticket from one of the small, typically Asian-owned, convenience stores on my way downtown. It’s a long shot, of course, but you certainly can’t win unless you have a ticket. And from there to Burlington Coat Factory. In spite of the name, they sell much more than coats, and I have a coupon for 20% off that expires tomorrow. I wandered round the store, and eventually settled on a 2.7 quart sauté pan (with ceramic coating!) for $17.99, that will do nicely for cooking the poached salmon with parsley sauce that I plan to cook tomorrow (thank you, James Martin, for the recipe).

Musicians in EQT Plaza

Macy’s, in downtown Pittsburgh, is a bit of an anachronism. Department stores hang on here in the same way they do in the UK – as more of a link with the past, a memory of how things used to be, than as a going concern. This building has been for sale for years, but in today’s economy there are no buyers. And so they soldier on. I ventured up to the fifth floor – there are several more – and found a bookstore that I didn’t know existed. Since this is such a football town, I suspect that this will be the topic of much conversation at work during the coming months. I have a basic understanding of the game, but it’s much more complicated (in both rules and strategy) than UK football (soccer), so I bought a sort-of idiot’s guide to football – at least I hope to be able to follow the conversation, even if I can’t contribute. I’m not a die-hard fan, of course – my allegiances are fickle: when I lived in New Jersey, I supported the Jets (before they moved to New York); in Connecticut, the Patriots; in Texas, the Cowboys; and now, the Steelers. I don’t actually care who wins – what I love to see is a good, evenly matched game.

Book purchased, I made my way to Bar Louie at Station Square. I’ve eaten there before, and I’m looking forward to sitting outside, overlooking the river, sipping a beer while I read my book and wait for my lunch to arrive. Alas, it’s not to be – a charity event means that the place is mobbed. There’s a seat outside, but I could hardly hear myself think, let alone read.

Stonework downtown

Walking back to my hotel, I’m against the flow again – this time, the fans are leaving the game. The Panthers beat Virginia Tech 35 to 17. It’s just the start of the season.

Note added in postscript: I won the lottery! This is the ticket that won me $4!

To Kalamazoo and back

$16.50 is what it cost in tolls to drive clear across Ohio. If you’re from Ohio, that may be a reasonable price to pay to see it in the rear view mirror, although, having now criss-crossed it from east to west, and south to north, I can see it has more good points than bad. The Cincinnati skyline is impressive in such a way that so many cities are not – approaching from the south certainly has the “wow” factor.

16 states so far ...

But, if you want to get to Michigan from Pittsburgh, there’s only one way there – through Ohio. I was going to Michigan with one objective – to add another geocache “souvenir” to my collection. And if you’re going to Michigan, why not go to Kalamazoo, because a place with a name like that just has to be interesting. Doesn’t it? Apparently not. After checking into my hotel, I headed downtown, and parked in the “Mall District”. This is an attractive pedestrianized area, with shops, restaurants, bars, and just one fatal flaw – I arrived there at around 4:30pm on a Saturday, and everything appeared to have closed down at 4pm. I know that times are hard, but it’s a vicious cycle: people don’t come, so you close down early, so even more people don’t come. We have to come up with a way to revitalize our downtown areas, to bring people back to have fun and spend money, otherwise we’re all doomed to online shopping for everything.

Bronson Park

Bronson Park was pretty, but largely colonized by homeless people. Don’t get me wrong – the homeless people have as much right to be there as anyone. The fact that they’re there reflects more on the city’s inability to provide for them than it does on the homeless, who are there out of necessity rather than choice.

But I did find a beautiful mural, so all is not lost.

Kalamazoo mural

Opposite my hotel there was a Cracker Barrel. If you travel about the US at all, you’ll know about Cracker Barrel – basic, country-style food at a reasonable price. Family style dining, down home cooking – it goes by a variety of names, but if what you want is meatloaf, or fried chicken, or chicken fried steak, with a side of mashed potatoes, or green beans, or corn, washed down with sweet tea, then this is exactly the place you’re looking for. Gourmet dining it is not; functional, it most definitely is. Anyway, Cracker Barrel is an old-fashioned country store as well as an old-fashioned country restaurant, and it happens to be one of the few stores that stock Goo-Goo Clusters – an old-fashioned Southern candy which I was eager to try, having heard of a resurgence of interest on the radio recently. You don't need to taste these - if you know that they're made of chocolate, soft toffee and nuts, then, given the name, you already know how decadent they are.

From Kalamazoo, I went south to Indiana, for my second cache. I stopped for gas on the way. To prevent “gas and run”, although you can pay by credit card at the pump, you are required to enter a zip code to verify identity. Since all my credit cards are UK cards, I don’t have a zip code, so I’m accustomed to having to pay before pumping: “$40 on number 10, please”. So I was somewhat taken aback when I looked round for somewhere to pay in advance, and the attendant just said, “Fill up, and then we’ll sort out payment”. I suppose rural communities the world over are more trusting.

Guardian stone

The next cache was at one of the distilleries on the “Kentucky Bourbon Trail” – the Woodford Reserve. It was a “virtual” cache – which means that there is no real cache to find, but rather information about the location that you have to email to the cacher to prove that you have actually been there. In this case, all the information related to a small graveyard attached to the distillery. It had a feature I have never seen before – a “guardian” statue to keep watch over the inhabitants. This is such a lovely idea that I’d like to see more of them.

From Kentucky, I drove back to my hotel – a total journey, for the day, of around 750 miles through 6 states: Michigan, Indiana, Kentucky, Ohio, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania.

Alabama

I’m only in Alabama for two weeks, and I may never be back, so I’ve been busy!

Huntsville seems to me untypical of most of the state, given that Alabama is in the bottom 3 poorest states in the country (poorer only are North Carolina and Louisiana). It’s a fairly affluent area, and, thanks largely to the significant presence of aerospace and defense industry, boasts a concentration of high-tech workers second only to Silicon Valley. 

Blackbird

Saturn V

I wasn’t previously aware of Huntsville’s illustrious history in aerospace. In the 1950s, Wernher von Braun spearheaded the effort to develop rocket science that culminated in the Saturn family of rockets, earning Huntsville the name “Rocket City”, which is a distinct improvement on its earlier claim to fame as “The Watercress Capital of the World”.

The US Space & Rocket Center is here, as are various branches of NASA. I was only able to visit the Center after hours – even so, The Saturn V rocket proudly standing outside is impressive, and the Blackbird (New York to London in under 2 hours) is equally as initimidating.

Alabama is definitely “the south” – in contrast, Texas prefers to think of itself as “the south west”. So there are everyday things here that I haven’t seen on my travels elsewhere – Sundrop and Cheerwine (caffeinated citrus soda and cherry soda, respectively), Piggly Wiggly and Publix supermarkets, Shoney’s restaurants, Krystal burger joints, as well as a different style of barbecue. Of these, probably only the last two are worthy of elaboration.

Krystal burgers (which I felt an obligation to try) would more usually be called “sliders” – small burgers, similar to White Castle, if you’re familiar with them. The “meal deal” I tried consisted of 3 “Krystals”, a medium fries and a medium Coke, with 3 “poppers” (which are really just donut holes). Not bad, as burgers go.

Memphis-style barbecue ribs

The barbecue, however, is a different story. It is mostly a dry-rub, “Memphis-style” barbecue, very different to the Texas barbecue I’m used to. It comes with a barbecue sauce, but usually served on the side, rather than slathered over the meat. The other side dish is potato salad – a traditional accompaniment.

It was delicious – although I would say “different”, rather than “better” (which is the same way I compare British and American beer). 

Once a year, Huntsville hosts a weekend long “Big Spring Jam” music Festival. The name is slightly misleading, because it’s in the fall. It’s held in Big Spring Park – hence the name. I saw Incubus, Sister Hazel and The Drive By Truckers perform, as well as a variety of lesser-known bands. The US Marines were recruiting. They had a HUMV with a large speaker system in back belting out heavy metal music at an impressive volume, and one of the Marines wore a t-shirt that said “Pain is weakness leaving the body”. I wanted to challenge them on whether they thought that such a supposedly elite group should align themselves with this music, and this sentiment, but they were sufficiently large and numerous that I chickened out. I wish I hadn’t.

Huntsville is in northern Alabama, and very close to Tennessee. More importantly, it’s very close to both Lynchburg (home of Jack Daniels) and Nashville (home of country music).

That's me - back centre

The Jack Daniels distillery seems a wonderfully tranquil place to work, and the tour was very interesting. Lynchburg itself is somewhat taken over by bikers, but is still proud of having no Walmart, no Macdonalds, and no cell phone reception – you have to admire that. The workers all get a free pint of Jack Daniels Old No. 7 every month – they call the day they get it “Good Friday”. Curiously, the distillery is in a “dry” county, so they don’t offer free samples at the end of the tour, and, with the exception of some special bottles, neither can you buy it.

From Lynchburg, I drove on back roads to Nashville. I’ve driven through Tennessee both in the east, and now the west, and I have to say it’s the prettiest countryside of any state I’ve traveled in. Green rolling hills, woodland that isn’t all pine, immaculately presented horse ranches – breathtakingly beautiful and relaxing to pass through.

AIDS volunteers

Nashville was neither more nor less than I expected. With such a brief visit, I was only able to visit the tourist area. I was there for the music, and I wasn’t disappointed. There was an AIDS charity event going on down by the river, and this was where I sampled my first barbecue lunch, as well as meeting some interesting people. A couple of girls came by with a basketful of free condoms – I declined at first, but then went after them to pick one up. Hell, you never know when you’re gonna get lucky … 

Buskers

Walking up the main drag, I stopped for a beer in Layla’s Bluegrass Hillbilly & Country Inn (with a live band, of course), and then on to the Cadillac Ranch. The guy next to me at the bar tried to chat up the barmaid with a rose he’d made from a paper napkin. A barman in Dallas showed me once how to do this, although I’ve forgotten now – anyway, it’s unbelievably cheesy, and she just responded politely (and dumped it in the trash as soon as he left). Out on the street, there were numerous buskers – some of them better than the bands in the bars. All of them, however, were musical – unlike, say, New Orleans, where there are mimes, jugglers and magicians, as well as musicians.

I’d seen all I wanted to see after a few hours, although I’m sure that Nashville has much more to offer if you have more time, and venture beyond the tourist traps.

Back in Alabama, there’s a concentration of places worth a visit about an hour west of Huntsville. The area is known as “The Shoals”, and centers around Muscle Shoals (famous for the FAME recording studios, who have recorded artists such as Aretha Franklin, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Eric Clapton, and many others). I’ve tried to find out the reason for the name, and the best that I can come up with (endorsed by locals) is that it’s related to the shoals of freshwater shellfish found along this stretch of the Tennessee River, and Alabamans are not very good at spelling. Helen Keller was born here, in Tuscumbia, and W.C. Handy was born in nearby Florence (if you’re not a blues fan, you’ll have no idea who he was).

The reason I came here, though, was to visit the Coon dog cemetery. Coon dogs are dogs that are bred to hunt raccoons. They’re not just mutts, as I had thought, but are recognized, and registered by, the Kennel Club. To be buried in the cemetery, the dog must have won competitions, as well as having a pedigree, and the owner must apply to the cemetery, who will decide if the dog is worthy of being buried there.

The gents

After roads that pass through endless cotton and pea fields, a well-paved, but winding, road leads up the mountain, through the woods, to the cemetery. Fall is approaching, and the dry, brittle leaves that are strewn across the road scrunch underneath my wheels. It is a fitting resting place for a faithful dog that obviously meant a lot to its owner. The graves are mostly well-tended, and lovingly inscribed.

As I drive down the back roads of America, mostly with the windows rolled down, without music, and usually without radio, I’ve often pondered what I’ll miss most when I no longer return.

It will be this: mostly the south – the north-east is too crowded, too consumerist, and too obsessed with themselves; decent hot dogs and barbecue; country music; wide (or not-so-wide) straight, empty roads; Click and Clack, the Tappet Brothers; family-style diners; Blue Moon beer.

I won’t miss American cheese, Walmart, or fast-food outlets.

Cotton field

Geocaching

My last free full day in Texas, and the 100°+ heat wave persists. I need a high note on which to exit.

Tim told me last weekend about geocaching (GPS-based combination of hide-and-seek and treasure hunt – see http://geoching.com for more). It’s been around for quite a few years, but it’s the first I’d heard of it. During the week I tried a couple of local caches, and decided this weekend to try for 4 caches – one in each of 4 states – in one day. That was today.

Oklahoma

It took me 12 hours, but was well worth it – I like to drive, especially in the States, and more especially in the South. My first stop was Durant, Oklahoma (N 33° 59.936 W 096° 22.190). North on 75, past one of many Choctaw Resorts. An aside: early in US history, the native Indian people were herded into “reservations” in typical colonial fashion. In these typically god-forsaken areas, they languished for many years, beset by the usual problems associated with unemployment, poverty, drugs and alcohol. That is, until a landmark Supreme Court case where it was ruled that the government had no jurisdiction over taxation of Indians living on the reservations, and more importantly, no authority to regulate Indian activities. It wasn’t long before casinos sprang up on many reservations, despite state laws banning it. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when the politicians realized this incredible loophole, which they are now powerless to revoke.

Bokchito

Durant was an easy cache at the back of an old cemetery – it was quiet and peaceful. I took a small plastic doll from the cache and replaced it with a (plastic) gold medal. My next stop was Arkansas (N 34° 02.763 W 094° 21.414). I paused on the way at a gas station in Bokchito, to buy a cherry coke. Two rednecks lolled on chairs outside the door – they greeted me pleasantly, but I doubt they had a full set of teeth between them. Moving on, I just had to stop to take a picture of a garage where the owner had obviously had problems with non-paying customers. He said people often stopped to take photographs, but declined being in the picture. Apparently the sign had been up for 15 years.

I couldn’t help noticing, as I drove through the morning, that the church parking lots along the way (and there were many) were all full – folk in these rural areas are mostly “washed in the blood”. So very different from England, where there is an increasing population of those who claim no religious affiliation.

I slowed down through each town, looking for an old-fashioned burger joint for lunch, but they are few and far between these days. I had to settle for a Sonic in Broken Bow – a burger and an “Ocean Water” – Seven-Up flavoured with blue coconut.

The cache in Arkansas was on commercial premises – thankfully deserted on a Sunday. I left the doll from the last cache, and took a small plastic ring. The clue for the cache was “Matthew 7:24” (I told you they were serious round here) – “Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock”. As you can see, quite a good clue. It’s fairly common practice to hide something ugly (in this case, plumbing) under a fake rock.

Arkansas

Arkansas uncovered

On the way from Arkansas to the next cache in Louisiana (N 32° 53.624 W 093° 48.042), on Rte 1 near Rodessa, I passed a seemingly endless freight train being hauled by a Kansas City Southern engine, sounding its distinctive plaintive whistle at every junction. That always gets me.

It’s strange how the bayou landscape of Louisiana is almost immediately evident as soon as you cross the state line. On the country roads, the state line is hardly noticeable – just a “Welcome to Louisiana” sign. On the highways, there is almost always a visitor centre full of maps, leaflets, helpful staff, and the inevitable gift shop.

This cache was really in the middle of nowhere – several miles down a dirt track through luxurious woodland. Fortunately, GPS coordinates are pretty accurate, and enabled me to find the tree in which it was cleverly hidden. There was only enough space in the pill bottle for a small log book, so I signed it, and hung onto the ring for the next cache.

Louisiana from afar ...

... and close up

The last leg was back to Texas, to a cache near my hotel (N 32° 49.779 W 097° 03.431), where I left the ring, and picked up a plastic lego-type figure. This lucky chap will be going to a cache in England!

This area is becoming increasingly built up, which makes the sighting of a coyote crossing the road so unusual. I suspect he’s been around since before the construction started, and is now having to adapt, like the rest of us, to the changes that we euphemistically call “progress”.

Coyote