The Prang

Coops says:
Kylie was very excited about her shiny new boots and skis, which luckily were available to pickup Wednesday lunchtime. There was no option then but to head into Quebec for a bit of night skiing.

Needless to say if was bloody cold. A beautiful clear night, no wind, great snow. Miss Halden, once she had negotiated the high speed chairlifts-of-death and complete lack of dexterity due to her Kid sized mittens (another story) was cruising down the slopes refining her technique from a continual snow plough (dorky beginner) to parallel turns (snow bunny).

We would occasionally stop, I would stop first and she would grind to a halt in her own particular style, and once my teeth had thawed I would occasionally offer advice to try to assist her in her aim of reaching snow bunny status.

After a few runs Kylie as doing some nice parallel turns, and looked to be in control of her new toys. So I headed down the slope a bit quicker than usual, then pulled up to watch her progress. Little did I know Kylie had chosen to try to keep up, and when I stopped, she was close behind and decided she would also stop. Just how she decided to stop was a thing of beauty.

At no point did she use the techniques of the previous days, either dorky or otherwise. Her technique involved turning at high speed towards the snow covered embankment at the side, and smacking into that. The embankment turned out to be a vertical snow covered rock some 8 feet high.

It was like watching a car accident, in my mind it happens in slow motion. The banzai charge towards the rock, the sudden halt of skis as she explodes onwards and upwards, the arms outstretched towards deliverance, the impact with the top of the rock, an explosion of snow, then the mass of debris and girlfriend trickling down the rock face.

In the brief silence that followed it crossed my mind she may have killed herself.

Then I hear a giggle.

Not a scratch.

It’s kinda unfair.

Kylie says:
Coops rings and says "I have skis in the car."
"Are we going Night skiing?" I hold my breath.
"Yup."

Edelweiss is about 40 minutes from Ottawa, and has long clean runs. I was excited to get out there on my new skis, buoyed by the fact that I'd been skiing blue runs (intermediate) on Saturday at Mont Ste-Marie, and going OK til fatigue got the better of me and I started stacking all over the mountain. But this was my gear. New boots that had not had anyone else's foot stinking them up but mine. Poles that were measured to the 90deg angle of my arm, not just randomly picked from the banged up selection in the rental shop. And skis that my ability would grow into, and we would bond in such a way that a person can bond with any inanimate object.

As a Halden there is some element of wanting to perfect something immediately in the core of my very being. As unrealistic as this is, the determination is in no way diminished by the prospect of a steep hill covered with ice while standing at the top on wax-polished wood that knows no other purpose other than to get to the bottom as fast as possible. We were to be skiing green runs (beginner) so I was positive I'd get an invitation to join the Olympic team by the time I finished the first run. Alas, I was on my ass about 100m in.

By my 3rd run, I had gotten used to the patchy lighting, and was feeling OK about things, getting more comfortable, working out that my skis are fast and if I don't get things right on my turns they're gonna catch and try to trip me up - something I'd previously been getting away with on rentals. Subsequently Coops and I started working on what I like to call the shussh stop, probably better known as a parallel stop. Coops would ski for a bit, stop and I would follow, and stop. We did this for a couple of runs, and on the next run Coops stops and I think, "Oh better stop" but there seems to be some partial blockage in my neural function telling me to stop, and I just turn and ski directly into a large bank of snow, hiding a large wall or rock.

Now, I know that some of my thoughts were computing. I knew that it was going to stop me. And I thought that it would be soft and cold. And I knew that it was going to look funny as hell. I think I even remembered to close my eyes and hang on to my poles.

My skis plunged into the snow and stopped dead. As I felt the bindings release my feet, it was like they propelled me upward, like a set of ejector bindings. However their strength was not enough for me to clear the snow covered rock face that loomed ever closer, closing ahead of me.

I stuck there for a few moments - evaluating damage. I wondered if this was how cartoon characters felt when their arch nemesis suddenly moved the position of the door on the wall and they completely star fished into it with momentous force. I slid back down the snow and giggled. I wish I'd have seen it all in the third person. There was a perfect indentation in the snow. My knee was slightly tender and initially diagnosed quite damaged, but after some thorough testing its condition was upgraded, with relief, to perfectly fine.

We dicide that it might be a good idea to head down for a break and a hot chocolate. Coops explains to me that I wasn't supposedto stop when he did, yet he'd neglected to tell me this. Obviously my lack of control has nothing to do with my stack - it was all due to his lack of clear communication skills...But I did get back on the proverbial horse and made sure that I didn't have a repeat for the rest of the evening.

What I like about the whole experience is that there are no new bruises, and I can parallel stop a bit, and felt really good by the end of the evening (lowered core temperature aside). Despite the biggest stack of my skiing career thus far, I feel the best I have about skiing, and am quickly becoming quite addicted.

Swooooosh!

Conditions were perfect for skiing. Perfect meaning that it was not pelting down with rain or snow and gusts of wind like the previous day had been. Perfect also taken with tongue in cheek, with a -14deg day, and wind chill making it something along the lines of -20deg.

I don't want to sound dramatic, but I have seriously never been so cold in my life - and I was in my warmest attire! From the bottom up: trusty explorer socks, 'sexy' thermal leggings, ski pants that I bought a few years ago now and subsequently come up to my arm pits, long sleeved thermal top, t-shirt, long sleeved lightweight hoodie, fully lined ski jacket, beanie and gloves, which were latter added to when I stole Coops' glove liners also!

My fingers were so cold not only could I not feel them, but they ached like nothing else, hence the thieving of Coops' glove liners - he's much more of a cold-tolerating person than me... My exposed face stung with cold, but my feet were snugly and warm in my rented ski boots that fit so well that I am considering asking whether I can purchase them for the winter. Very Impressed.

We headed out at 9am and were at the ski fields by 9.30am, even though we got a touch lost on the way. Despite some nice snow falls this early in the season, all the mountains are making snow in addition, just to let the base settle and get a jump start for when the real snow hits; late next week according to the weather channel. It was the 2nd weekend that most of the mountains have been open and running one or two lifts, just to get everyone back into the swoosh of things. For me, it became a serious task of getting myself up to the same level as the Canadians my age who have been skiing all their life.

I might mention at this point that I was 27 the first time I stepped on a pair of skis, and yesterday made the 4th time I've actually done so. OK, yes, might have been putting a little too much pressure on myself, but I mean look at the form on that snow plough stop below!!!!!!!!!!! I'll get there, or to somewhere slightly better and/or more frustrated that I am now. I mean, I can go and rent skis and buy a lift pass for $50 for the day (at home that would just cover the rental) so there's no reason Coops and I can't go hone our skills one day on the weekend, and one night a week. Its kind of sickening really. Hence I'm considering buying my own gear, as its just about half the price of home as well. But don't tell my bank...

Photos courtesy of Coops.

I started off the day really well, it wasn't until I tried to get technical (parallel ski turns) that I started falling over. But it was so much fun, until I got tired, and the bruises on my knees started coming out...

While its still novel:

Temperature: -5deg C (-12deg with wind) with 10-15cm snowfall today. Its been snowing since some time last night solidly through to about 1pm today, and its just started up again now.

View across the Ottawa river to Victoria Island.

Rideau Canal gets emptied out every year. When the surface freezes over they drive a truck onto the ice in order to sink the crust, and get the new layer to freeze, thus allowing them to open it up to ice skating further up. However I'm told that almost every year they don't quite get it right, and the truck will sink into the canal. Oh, yes I will be skating...

One day I'll learn to go out in the cold with several tissues. Can you see the fear in the eyes? Oh yes, its there...

Icicles. I like it.

My First Snow (video...)!!

There are few things that will have me literally leap out of bed at 6.30am. Occasionally the promise of a great Christmas, I leaped for Tiger Leaping Gorge, and have been known to rise with the birds for a sunrise or two. Flights may do it also. But this morning, it was the radio, announcing a 4cm snowfall just outside my bedroom window (well, OK, that bit wasn't on the radio) with the promise of another 2-4cm later in the day and 5-8cm most likely tomorrow. I do believe winter has hit Ottawa, people.

Its usually taken a bit to get me out of the apartment and into the cold air, but I wandered to the shops about 8.30am (well, I was up...) and giggled in between bouts of concentration as I shuffled along on the slushing ice, carefully maintaining my upright posture. (Mmmm, Slush Puppy.) It wasn't that bad - actually in the absence of wind, and me having finally realised that I can and will use thermals from now on, it was actually quite pleasant. The snow was still falling and it did dawn on me that an umbrella might have been a good idea, but hey.

Right, so I know that the video is not all that exciting - (although arguably slightly more interesting than Andy Warhol's 8hr 1964 epic Empire...) but its a tiny bit of a milestone for me, and it had to be straight up - first snowfall. OK, yes I have seen snow before, but one of the reasons for coming to Canada was to live in the snow, just to see what its like; how cold it is, how annoying it is, how beautiful it is, how fun it is!

Not sure how well you can see it, if at all, but the snow was still falling rather prettily. I only wish the car entering from the right had taken on a Simpsonesque quality of bouncing around uncontrollably between cars, having not yet put on snow tires...

When it gets a bit heavier (ooh, say after tomorrow's additional fall) I'll try to get something a little more picturesque.

Ottawa Update

Ottawa. Capital of Canada and so much cooler than Canberra - in both the literal and slang terms. I arrived to just one degree in the positive. Since then it's ranged from as low as -7deg first thing in the morning to as high as 12deg, yet still I struggle. The cold in itself is tolerable, its the wind that's the killer - dropping the temperature by about another 5deg, tearing through any single layer and numbing any skin that's not covered. The days are clear and sunny, but the lakes are already freezing around the edges, and the groundhogs have gone to ground for the winter. There have been a few snow flurries, but nothing heavy to stick around, but I know its coming!

Think I prefer the Black & White.

I like Ottawa - it is a big country town. It doesn't take long before you're out into the countryside. I have to admit, I've not braved the public transport yet, despite it being proclaimed the best around. In fact I've not braved much. I am slowly building up a relationship with the stray cats up on Parliament Hill. There's about seven of them, all cute 'n' stuff. And surprisingly they don't seem to bother the squirrels, which I can't quite work out.

Slightly bummed about working though - being a government town most of the work requires that you be bilingual, and have a security clearance, neither of which I have. Subsequently I have been fairly quiet. I keep reminding myself that patience is a virtue....

I know most of you have seen squirrels, but I still find them so entertaining. Its the way they move, just like they got into Seattle's entire supply of coffee. This little fella was pretty curious about my sausage roll, in fact there were about 20 or so who were - it was like when MJ and his date were being surrounded by the zombies in Thriller - they were all around, and closing in to seal our doom... So I thought I'd take advantage of his model-like pose. The squirrels here are bigger then the ones in Vancouver and London, and they're virtually black, but just as cute!

The last 2 weekends Coops and I have been over to Gatineau Park, in the Quebec, just the other side of the Ottawa River to wander around. There are barely any leaves left on the trees, they carpet the forest floors now, and make you want to run and leap in them. I was inspired when Coops spotted a notice that there had been a Cougar sighting in the Park in Spring - and I know there are deer in them thar hills, so I'm optimistic!

Walking in Memphis

Memphis was my dark horse. As Nashville is to country, I was apprehensive of the saturation of Elvis to Memphis. But like Nashville, I would soon find that Memphis was so much more than Elvis, and you almost had to search out Presley-mania, amongst all the rhythm and history at the Home of Blues.

We arrived mid afternoon to find that the hotel did not have our reservation and subsequent payment, but luckily they had a room anyway. We just needed to prove that we had paid....TBC. We dumped our luggage and headed in to town; Beale Street, more specifically. At this point, I have to say that I will challenge anyone who labels the likes of Beale Street, Broadway in Nashville, or Bourbon Street In New Orleans serving only as the obligatory tourist strips of respective iconic places. Yes, I know they are riddled with souvenir shops, and obviously the tourists keep the bars well and truly alive, but you can't say that they aren't still pumping out the good stuff. The music is the same as if you were out on the banks of the bayou in a lean-to that's quiverin' with the beats of the modern day cotton fields. And even though I do usually like to avoid the tourist traps, I just didn't see the need to do so here, you still get what you came for - this is where it all kicked off, and I wanted to feel it. And that's all I have to say about that.

Beale Street is only about 200m long, its blocked off to traffic, and rocks around the clock. Every pub/bar/restaurant you walk past is a neon assault on your eyes, but candy to your ears. I had no idea that Memphis was The Birthplace of Blues (only challenged by Chicago's claim - puh), and was ridiculously pleased that I had stumbled across this revelation in person, and very shortly after quite annoyed that Elvis had managed to overshadow this fact with his little jingles. We found a bar with the following motto for some grub and local cleansing ale:

It wasn't a late night, we had a huge day planned, although we didn't realise that plan entailed an hour long search for our grits. Memphis does the Blues well, breakfast is another story. It might just be that it was Halloween morning, but it took some time to locate an establishment serving breakfast, and our search ended back on Beale. By this stage we were OK with, and even kinda used to grits. Basically its like a cornmeal porridge. Best served with butter and sugar - but not for your recovering triple by-pass patients.

Fed and watered we headed straight down Union to Sun Studios. Originally Memphis Recording Service, Sam Phillips started this studio to service the amazingly talented Blues singers and musicians emerging from all over the Delta. He'd record birthdays, weddings, anything on his portable one track to get the funds together to find the acts really worth recording. There's a whole mess of names that were emerging from Memphis Recording Service before Elvis even thought about lying his pants off to set foot inside the studio.

Memphis Recording Services, better known as SUN Studios. You can still lay down a track or two for $35, or for the meagre sum of $85 per hour record your whole damned album.

The tour was pretty cool. Our host gave a unabashed plug for his own album recorded right there at Sun, but also gave us an informative tour of the studio and the music that poured from its walls. Oh, Elvis's aforementioned lie? He got past the Secretary to record his break though hit That's Alright Mama by saying it was for his Ma's birthday. This was in June 1954, but him Ma's birthday was in April. It was also not the first time he'd been in Sun Studios - the year before he'd been in to record, but Phillips saw nothing new or worthwhile in the recording. It was also interesting to hear the Sun Studio official line for selling Elvis' contract for the seemingly stupid amount of $35k, but that amount enabled Sun Studios to go on to record a handful of other artists who would also become ridiculously famous. See below:

Not the mic that Elvis used, but a genuine piece from Sam Phillips collection that could have housed the spittle of some other up and coming star, maybe Junior Parker, B.B. King, or the Howlin' Wolf.

Just kidding - at the end of the tour we got to play around in the studio, it was pretty darn cool. It was nice wondering which of the stuff was original and which were new additions for the working studio.

Following that we were waiting outside for the Shuttle bus when I Saw the ghost of Elvis, On Union Avenue, Followed him up to the gates of Graceland, Then I watched him walk right through, (thanks Mr Marc Cohn)so I got a ticket and wandered around after him. Man, whoever is getting the money for Graceland is doing exceptionally well. I mean, after the immaculate upkeep of the house and grounds, and the ample staff salaries, the audio equipment every guest wears for their own private tour, and the running costs for the vans that drive you from the ticket office across Elvis Presley Boulevard and us the driveway to the front doors of Graceland, man they must be making um, a little bit.

The upstairs of Graceland is off limits. Now I don't know whether this is because Elvis had always kept this area private to all guests, or whether its cause the plebs who only get the 'Platinum' ticket and not the 'Entourage VIP' ticket for more than double the price. Its interesting to see the things people with money will buy. I mean does celebrity revoke taste? And the music room below was by no means the 'best' of it. My personal favourite would have to be the famed Jungle room, complete with green shag pile carpet on the floor, walls and ceiling????

All in all, the tour was really good - actually much better than I expected, but I'm still not a fan of the music. The hype is amazing, but I can't help wondering when its all going to fade out. I mean there are still 1st generation hard core Elvis fans alive to maintain this musical pilgrimage, but then what? Will it just be the curious? Those in town with an afternoon to spare? How long can Elvis' pelvis endure?

By the time we got back into town, it was getting kind of late. The Gibson factory was closing up, as was the soul museum, but we noticed a great deal of activity at the stadium next door. Turns out it was the 1st game of the season for the Memphis Grizzlies NBA team, playing off against last years World Champions (which we questioned A LOT, as the Americans are the only ones playing...), the San Antonio Spurs. Our Spur of the moment decision was to get tickets and go support some local talent. I don't know whether it was just cause it was the 1st game of the season that had everyone fired up or what, but despite the stadium only being half full, the atmosphere was crazy. Team flags were being handed out at the gates as soon as you walked in, and being Halloween, there were kids dressed up in all sorts of costumes. It was really cool. The game was a great match - tight the entire time, until the Spurs edged ahead in the last few minutes, eventually winning by 3 points. Obviously we were devastated...

Wednesday night, shmensday night, everyone was out after the game. There was even a troupe of bikers that had ridden in just for the hell of it to party it up on the Beale. It was our last night of Road trip, and the last night I would see these guys for who knows how long. We were in the mood to party, just like everyone else. The good vibe continued when we got back to the hotel to find that the reservation had finally been sorted out!

Look, it wasn't the most informative of trips, I certainly didn't go out of my way to learn about stuff like I might in other places, but I was cruisin' with my posse for the first time in 6 months. We didn't get as deep as I might have liked through the South, but what we did we did well. Its a part of the states that most don't get to - well, I mean its usually further down the list than LA, or New York etc. But I'm really pleased we did what we did. Even though many people offered to take our photos for us, I think there's something in the group self portrait. Maybe not much, but we like them.

Boots N More

By the time we got to Nashville, we realised that our route had been too direct. We did not plan well enough ahead to make it to Dollywood in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. But then I guess, we'd had a great time with Mickey and all his pals, we didn't need the country version.

Traffic was slow coming into town - we later learned that the football was on, and luckily we didn't try to make it all the way from Savannah the night before, as we would have found ourselves sleeping in the car. It was a big game between the local team and someone else and everything was booked out. As it happened we got into the Best Western in the heart of Downtown Nashville for a song (oh, anyone travelling in the States, I recommend stopping at every Welcome Centre just over the State borders for excellent state maps and most importantly, coupon books for awesome deals on accommodation throughout that state).

So with the best part of the day still ahead of us, we wandered out in search of the country music scene that would have us line dancing in our seats, but the only thing that was dancing in the streets was the proverbial tumbleweed. Downtown Nashville was completely dead. We headed to a pub in hope of finding chicken fried chicken and some atmosphere in which to immerse ourselves while the footballing opportunity was there. Unfortunately the pub was as quiet as the streets, so we had to interpret the game for ourselves, and alas, there was no chicken fried chicken on the menu either.

Our waiter informed us that things would pick up after the game, whether 'we' won or not, and gave us the low down on the bars to hit when they did. After a quick return to the hotel to get into our boot scooting attire, we were back out and ready to go. First stop was BB King's House of Blues, which I'd been hankering to get to since New Orleans. We were all in for a treat that night, the band was actually from New Orleans and were playing pretty sweet, and we finally got out chicken fried chicken on a bed of mac and cheese. While the music was groovin', most of the crowd were just sitting back and bathing in it, but we were ready for something else, so we headed out to see what else Nashville could dish up.

Every place you walked past was howling out Country and/or Western, but we'd been given the heads up that Tootsies, while possibly the smallest bar, was probably the rootin'est, tootin'est on Broadway. We wandered in to find a two man band on the smallest stage I've seen, just enough room for the two of them if they didn't swing them old guitars too hard. The singer was young and pretty, and I think he had his eye on a Keith Urban style career by the looks.

The bar was packed, and at first the only room we could make for ourselves was in front of the men's room. I didn't recognise any of the songs they were playin' but the crowd sure did. The manager swept round with the tip jar every few songs to make the most of the moving tide of people. There were newspaper cut outs and photos of country stars stuck up around the walls, and in between, covering every bit of space was the scribbling of countless would be singers, fans and drunks imparting their 'wisdom' to whoever cared, or could still manage to read it. It was an older crowd too. I mean a few younger people were there, but it was kind of your 30-50's there who just wanted to be a part of it, who'd grown up with country in their blood and could darn near sing everything better than those guys behind the mic, and kick up the dust while they were doin' it.

Behind the bar was another flight of stairs. As soon as you walked through it was like someone had cut the sound to the band down front and picked it up from these other guys right down the back of the place. This young guy, singing cool in his black John B and Wranglers, was all country. He had the dance floor moving, and tipped his hat where it counted. Again, I didn't know much of what he was singing, but was happy to slide on back into the crown and take it all in.

Some LA boys were there wondering what a bunch of four Aussie chicks were doing in Nashville. What do you say to that? It does seem strange to me that I, personally would go to Nashville, having very little appreciation for the genre at any other time, but sometimes you do things that you can't quite explain. And then you get something from it that is even harder to explain. I was having a ball, right up to the point when I just couldn't listen to country anymore. It was like a switch that flicked off in my ears.

Nashville is great for souvenirs. There's a great selection of John Deere merchandise, and any number of places selling CDs and the coolest country T's you've ever seen. I have to admit, that when you come across a store like this, its a little hit and miss - you could hit the jackpot of cool stuff, or it could be like you've crawled into Garth Brooks' bottom drawer. Either way it would be an entertaining, yet horrifying few minutes of your life. Monday morning we hit a few of the stores, then headed on to the Country Music Hall of Fame. If I need to save face here, there was a Special Exhibition of Ray Charles life and times (in country music) that I was keen to check out, but I found a lot more there. My brother loves the old Harmonica stuff, so I can now advise him to check out DuFord Bailey who could make a train whistle on that thing. I also know that Dolly was writing about a little girl she met with green eyes and red hair when she wrote Jolene, but maybe that's a little much.

We didn't really want to leave after getting tangled up in the nightlife, but on our last night in Nashville we once again realised that Road trip was soon rolling to a stand still. But there was still time to experience yet another American institution, so that night we made our way to Hooters for dinner. We were almost shocked to find as many women as men there, and even a birthday party for a 14y.o. kid. I have to say, the food was terrible, and the women were no where near as well endowed as I had been led to believe, or maybe we just got the dud waitress...

Unfortunately time didn't allow us to get out to the Grand Ole Opry, something that I would love to do (now that they allow the drums and amps), although not to see country, which is just about all you get out there these days. Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of Blues roots in Nashville also, its just that country is so big - its all you can get on the radio in them there parts. But its a pretty cool place - please don't overlook it just cause you ain't into the twang - I can guarantee a good time regardless.

Next stop: Memphis and mixed emotions. Still so much to do, but by now, so little time.

Georgia, Georgia on my mind

Our next stop was to be Savannah. For weeks before I had been practicing my southern accent to proclaim "I do declare!" at every available opportunity. I was also under the spell of Hollywood's depiction of the place, and couldn't wait to see it for myself. I'd always hoped to find a gospel service out in the middle of nowhere, as though it had been transplanted there directly from the 40's. A reincarnation of Ray Charles sitting on a porch singing the blues just down the road, and a crossroad somewhere where we'd meet a fast talking man with a fiddle in his hand just out from the Bayou would have completed my picture to a tee.

The drive from St Augustine to Savannah was not all that long. I played Ray's tribute to his home state about four times in a row as soon as we crossed the state border. We stopped at a drive through ATM, only to park and walk through the drive through...Drive through's are prominent in the States. You have your obvious selection of fast food (well, when I say obvious, that doesn't cover the range really) then there's the drive through Starbucks, then the drive through pharmacy, then the drive through ATMs. I'm sure there are more, but we were impressed enough with this lot. But my point is that the drive through ATM was our first really good sighting of the majestic Live Oaks covered with Spanish Moss. I love this stuff, but not enough to pocket it, its crawling with little bugs called chiggers, and I did hear say, that the original colonists used to put it in their beds, only to awake irritated by bites, and hence came the saying "sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite". Apparently.

The night we arrived in Savannah, we were slightly apprehensive about getting around after dark. Like New Orleans, there are areas sweet, unsuspecting tourists should not go. We were downtown looking for Southern style chicken - chicken fried chicken actually - and dang nab it if we couldn't find any. The best we could manage was chicken tenders I do believe. We all cancelled our side of fries, in favour of the broccoli, if I remember correctly, as we wanted the great southern gastronomical experience, but were craving a bit of the green stuff but this stage.

Next day was the only day we had that it just rained and rained. After breakfast we jumped on one of those town bus tours that tells you loads for you to later forget, but its a really succinct way to see what any good tourist should. About 90 minutes later and we were done. We wandered down to the river to take a look, but I was a little disappointed with the lack of interesting placed down there, really only housing tourist shops full of the usual stuff you don't really want. The rain was bucketing down by now, so we turned tail and headed for the hostel. I was keen to jump in the car and head out to the Bonaventure Cemetery. Like any other sicko around, I'm kinda fascinated by these places, and add in the Spanish moss covered oaks, I was ready to be impressed. We got out there with only about half an hour before closing, so we did a quick drive around - it was right up against the Wilmington River, not quite the gator infested river I was expecting, but it did enough to get the "I do declare!" from me.

The locals say that Savannah is the most haunted place in North America. I didn't personally experience any such otherworldly visitations, but I wouldn't want to wander around this place at night, despite all the angels watching over these resting souls. I would have liked to see more of Savannah - two days was not a long time to spend there.

Once we left Savannah it wa kind of like we were on the home straight, but not in that great way that mean's you're gonna win the cup. We were closer to saying goodbye than we cared to ink about, so we didn't. Instead we concentrated on finding a place to lay our heads in between Savannah and Nashville, without it being Atlanta. We ended up in Chattanooga, just for the hell of it.

I don't know what I was expecting, maybe that 40's attire yet again with everyone singing in the streets before a backdrop of railway steam. Needless to say that is not what we got. We found a really nice larger town with a newly developed centre and river walk, as well as some of the prettiest country around, showing of the best of its autumn colour.

Miami

Miami - what can I say - its like a stuck-up version of Key West. Two last places on earth and I had to inhabit one? Easily Key West. The body beautiful reigns at South Beach, Miami. Steroid dealers may do well. Having said that, its not bad at all.

Those famously HUGE meals you hear so much about in the states - Miami seems to be King. The locals clearly know that one meal out can feed your table of four, and subsequently maintain trim figures. The tourists? Well let just say that our meals fed our table of four for four meals, and still required the letting out of a belt buckle or two.

After a bit of a sleep in, I was keen to see the beach. And a lovely beach it is. Florida had turned on yet another warm day, and the water was beautiful.

Don't leave your sunnies at home, the sun off all the white art deco buildings is a killer. But I like it - palm trees and white sand, white buildings and white linen pants go so well.

From Miami we drove to St Augustine, the oldest town in the States, via the very lovely I-95. It started off as a very pleasant drive - we'd even stopped off for some home made candy and were enjoying our sugar rush when a few chunks of wood, including a 2ft section of wood, complete with rusty nails, came flying off the trailer being towed by car in front of us. With a few bumps and prayers we ran over the wood, thankful that nothing had bounced up and hit the windscreen (I mean full liability insurance on rental cars is nice, but who wants to test it, not to mention enduring the inconvenience and paperwork). By now fists were shaking furiously as we passed him, trying to communicate his stupidity at not securing his load. But it wasn't until another driver passed us and indicated that we should pull over that we found this little beauty in the grill:

A second after we pulled over a stranger after us just to make sure that we were OK and had not sustained damage to out radiator while out 'in the middle of nowhere'. Luckily, I've always depended on the kindness of strangers, and with a word of thanks we were on the road again, plank of wood in hand and a succinct note ready to return to the moron with the trailer in case we passed him again. Although, none of really wanted to risk getting that close a second time.

But I digress: the town of St Augustine still embraces its rich pirate history, and it was not unusual to see the town folk getting around in period dress. It was a quaint little place, not far off the coast to the east, and Georgia to the north. We'd deposited the plank of wood safely at the local Taco Bell dumpster, no longer requiring it's menacing nail as a reminder for irresponsible Highway driving, and were now free to explore. There were cobbled streets and water wheels, old stuff and a nice little river wrapping around the town.

St Augustine was only supposed to be somewhere to stop between Miami and Savannah, but we found it a really nice spot to spend the night. We also took advantage of the winery on the edge of town to sample the regions wines. I can't say I'm that impressed with the wines of Florida, but our server's bung eye and great sense of humour and made it a fun experience anyway.

Florida Keys

Another long driving day, the new recurring theme to the trip; couple of nights exploring somewhere, then a loooong drive somewhere else. I think it would be fair to say that we slightly underestimated distances to our chosen destinations, but nothing was unmanageable. I mean on the map it didn't look that far to Key West, but when you get there and the only road in or out has a speed limit of 35m.p.h., and a driver willing to stick to it means a longer day.

I won't lie - I was aware, and took note of all signs for Hurricane shelters or evacuation routes. It was October, but still by no means out of the danger time for a sudden flurry of wind and rain to pelt down on the unprotected and unnervingly narrow Keys.



7 Mile Bridge connecting the last island of the Keys, Key West to the ... second last island.

Key West is flamboyant, yet laid back. I can see why people flock there to relax, even from slightly less laid back locations elsewhere around Florida. We were luck to find a bed, arriving the night before their big festival week, something along the lines of Mardi Gras. We managed to secure beds at Angelina's House, just a few blocks off the main drag, with some of the friendliest people we stumbled across.

It was still hot, and time for a pre-dinner cocktail - a proper one, celebrating our arrival in the Keys. The local spot is out on a pier that juts out, maximising the view of the sunset from any seat. It was a little stormy, but it was also very cool, and the cocktails were hitting the mark.



Sunset, Key West.

Next morning it was time to sample the famous Key Lime Pie. Now its not revolutionary by any stretch, but gosh, darn, golly, its good. One dish combining my love of lime and cheesecake - how can you go wrong??? Subsequntly I picked up the recipe conveniently located on a magnet that would remain even more conveniently located on my fridge for any Key Lime Pie emergencies that may arise in the future.

Had we had more time, I could have easily hung out in the Keys for much longer. Anyone planning to hit Florida, I recommend not being put of by the long drive, its just a nice friendly spot and well worth the miles.

The Disney Machine

Ah, Disney - the happiest place on earth. I don't know about you guys, but I used to watch The Wonderful World of Disney faithfully every Sunday at 5pm (actual time and screening may have partial inaccuracies due to being a little kid at the time). I never thought I'd get there. I thought you'd have to either live in America or have the richest dad on the planet to take you there, so I was almost beside myself with excitement at the thought of going. That is until I woke up that morning in the Snottiest place on earth. Luckily America has the most relaxed policies on the strength of non-prescription drugs I've ever seen, so there was no way in heck that I was letting a short supply of tissues get in my way of living my childhood fantasy.

Day 1: Arrived about 3pm Wednesday and checked in, we were staying at Disney's All Star Movies resort, our room allocated in the 101 Dalmatians area of the complex, in between The Mighty Ducks and Fantasia areas. First stop - the gift shop. A quick, pleasantly healthy late lunch option and then onto the bus to Downtown Disney.

Disney Florida is a small land unto its own. We entered via gates similar to those of Jurassic Park, and still continued diving for 20 minutes or so to our resort. When you stay at any of the resorts you can use any of the free shuttles between every single Disney attraction. There's very little traffic other than these buses, which is good for the responsible (I was surprised to find beer in the restaurant fridges, and bars by the pools; not sure why I was so surprised, just went into kid mode I guess...) and/or distracted-by-over-stimulated-kid parents. The drivers of the buses, on the other hand must be incredibly talented at zoning out all this over-hyper activation because every time we rode anywhere there were unhappy, over-tired kids giving their parents every reason to cut the vacation short.

So Downtown was like a Disney-themed strip mall that curved its way pleasantly around a big lake shooting out water, fireworks and a Lego Loch Ness monster. There are a few restaurants (which you needed to have booked several months ago) and a pub, so we had fish 'n' chips and a beer (well, not for the snotsville resident), perusing the shops for prospective souvenirs that were just too darn cute to leave on the shelf and headed home ready for a big day.

Balloon Ma'am? MGM Studios.

Day 2: MGM Studios had a few cool rides, but overall I was not all that impressed. I think the best bit was walking into the Star Wars ride and seeing Darth Vader fight small children who had clearly mastered the force, and were kicking his butt. Oh, but then there was the Muppets 3D movie which was kinda cool when Fozzie squirted his flower on the audience and you got wet (he hee). Ooh ooh, and then there was Aerosmith's roller coaster which was a wild rock 'n' roller coaster which was completely in the dark to heighten your senses to the speed, music and neon. The Tower of Terror had me dropping several storeys, lifting me out of my seat, my stomach into my throat, and giggling like a schoolgirl!

OK, so maybe I was one of those over-stimulated kids on the bus on the way home, but I kept it well hidden behind a veil of sinusitis. After all that I was ready for bed!

Day 3: Magic Kingdom was super cool. I just didn't know what to do first. Tomorrowland, Fantasyland, Frontierland! First stop - fast pass* to save us queueing for Space Mountain, then off to Splash Mountain to reacquaint ourselves with an old, and in my humble opinion, under-rated character in Brair Rabbit. Splash mountain was really cool - the whole story of one rabbits struggle against adversity, and eventual triumf over the man that just couldn't keep him down (wipe away tear). But please, don't have your camera out on this one...

(*Fast pass allows you to swipe your park pass and get an allocated ride time so you don't have to waste time standing in queue's all day)

It's a Small World, Snow White's adventure, dropping in on Mickey to help with the kitchen reno's, the wild and crazy tea cups at the Mad Hatter's Tea Party, watching out for Captain Jack Sparrow's whacky hijinx. The list goes on. Space Mountain was so much fun that it warranted three rides, again with tears of joy being sucked out of my face by the g-forces...and the giggling of course.

While on a fun-break we ran into Pooh and Tigger. It was starting to rain, so they were heading in to protect their silky coats. I snapped this pic as they hurried off, and I kinda like the crazy similarity with all the celeb pics in the trashy mags...

Tigger is well known for his dislike of the Paparazzi, but Pooh, always keen to keep the cameras on side, is happy to throw us a wave. Magic Kingdom.

We were at Magic Kingdom from 9.30am til about Midnight. We caught the fireworks over Cinderella's Castle and rode the Merri-go-round and generally had the best day ever.

Who Doesn't love Dumbo - I mean look at that face!?!?! Magic Kingdom - there were almost tears when some kids tried to cut in front f me for this one...luckily a vigilant parent noticed my bottom lip quivering and rectified the situation.

Day 4: We had not planned to go to Animal Kingdom, to be honest. We were supposed to go to Epcot, but after comparing the in house brochures, we decided that Epcot looked almost educational, as opposed to Animal Kingdom who had just opened an awesome new roller coaster based loosely on the Yeti myth. Subsequently our first stop was again getting our fast pass for the Everest Experience, then on to the tigers! We got pretty wet on the ride of Kali where we took on rapids, waterfalls, and sluggish elephants spurting water out of their trunks - come to think of it pretty wet is quite an understatement...lucky it was warm.

Next was the Dinoland roller coasters (more giggling ensued) and then a photo session with Pooh, Tigger and Piglet, and some gift shopping. Oh, now I've not mentioned that the exit for all rides - sorry ALL RIDES, is through a gift store, so you see it really wasn't all our fault - I only have so much will power!

Dinoland also has a pretty great ride where you go 'back in time' to help out in getting a dino sample, until things go pear shaped and you're almost torn apart by some large flesh eating dinosaur. The best part about this is the photo taken right at the 'scariest' or for the sake of saving face - the most 'unexpected surprise' of the ride and then seeing it afterwards and realising who the obvious chicken of the group is. After that ride, this happened:

Is that Chip or Dale eating my head, or just a trippy hallucination brought on by aforementioned near overdose of non-prescription drugs? Animal Kingdom.

Time for our Everest Expedition - its all going swimmingly well, until out little Nepalese train comes to a complete stop where the infamous Yeti has ripped up the tracks. Most of the ride following that is backwards through mountain tunnels with the Yeti hot on our tail. Classic, simple FUN! Oh, how I love a good roller coaster where you can scream for pure enjoyment. Animal Kingdom rocked my world quite a lot, sooo much better than Epcot if any one ever has to make the choice, and I know because we we went to Epcot when AK closed. Epcot is like a giant World Trade Fair. To be honest it did have two stand-up rides: Mission Space which is all about the serious G-force (no joke, sick bags provided if you decide to dismiss all seven announcements that people who suffer from motion sickness may exit at this point) and Fast Track which is a simulated car test track where you hit some serious speed. The experience is heightened as they make you wait while the car flies around the track above your head, screams floating down to you every single time.

Now I know that Disney is the most well oiled corporation around, who over-stimulate children to parental breaking point around the clock, will take you by the ankles and shake roughly until all cash has left your person, and will do it all with a gigantic cartoon grin, but damn if I didn't have some Fun! I'd definitely go again!

Roadtrip USA, Part 2

Now, I'm not usually in the habit of taking pics at the rental car yard, but this sunset, the night we flew into Memphis was too beautiful to ignore.

We didn't stay in Memphis, instead headed out of town for the first stay in Randomtown - in this case Hernando, Mississippi. I just like saying Mississippi actually. Mississippi.

New Orleans was the next stop - whohoo!!! I was excited about New Orleans - and was hoping that the rumours that this city hadn't bounced back were just a bit harsh. Unfortunately they were a little bit true. There are a lot of buildings still standing abandoned with boarded up doors and broken windows. I can't say whether the people sleeping under the interstate bridges were there before or not, but the French Quarter is still rocking!

The 1st night we arrived I was completely sucked into a bar with a local cover of Stevie Wonder pumping out into the streets, and that was it. We were lost in the local beats, wandering from bar to bar, following the music and vibe. It was a great night. Unfortunately sleep and a lot of it was required the next day, so possibly not getting the most of our time in New Orleans. I was in mixed emotions when we left, I loved the feel of the town, but it was all a little scary - lots of places to dangerous to go without getting held up or worse, and compulsory travel by taxi at night.

We left town early, as we had two solid days of driving before we would hit Orlando, Florida.

Vegas, baby, from what I can remember, Vegas...

Leaving Yosemite was an obstacle course of mist, children and deer crossings. It also had us encounter the first of the many and varied design of petrol pumps. I think every petrol station in the states has a different method for making petrol come out of the pump. It was a continual challenge throughout the trip... But we had a nice lady who showed us how to keep our car going under its own steam.

It was about an 8 hour driving day. Needless to say we were bright as buttons when we left at 7am. The drive was uneventful, in a Californian desert interstate kind of way. The road trip pic earlier was pretty well standard viewing most of the way, once aforementioned children and deer had fled before us. But eventually we rounded a hill and had full view of Vegas spreading out like a concrete oasis in the middle of the dry plains.

Vegas seems like a bit of a blur of night lights and incessant bells and whistles from hundreds of thousands of pokie machines. The Strip is quite a place to see - particularly at night, and its electricity bill something to forever ponder. Our first night saw our travelling party split over conflicting entertainment options. Opting to avoid Celine Dion, Angie and I headed to catch Mystere, one of the many Cirque de Solei performances which was quite amazing. I've never seen human ability like it - highly entertaining; catch a show as soon as you can.

Unfortunately Vegas has some amazing shopping, so we filled in the daylight hours (yes, it felt like all 12 of them) at the Shopping Outlets, ensuring we would stretch our packs to breaking point. The days are quite in Vegas; its not until the neon fires up late afternoon that things get interesting. People watching is an awesome past time, there are brides wandering about, bucks and hens, and tourists covering any stereotype you care to impose.

Next day was our tour of the Grand Canyon about 5 hours drive away. We had a informative, yet irritating driver who shoved junk food in his mouth whenever he wasn't talking at us. We drove over the Hoover Dam wall which was more interesting than I had expected. Either side of the wall we stopped for military inspection, just to make sure we had left all portable explosives at home.

We viewed the Canyon from the south rim where its approximately 10-13 miles wide. It was an overcast day, so there were pools of light and shadow drifting across the rocks which made it look quite amazing, and managed to break up the haze. I was much more impressed than I thought I would be. I took a bit of a panorama to put together - its not perfect obviously, but I think it looks OK in showing the enormity of this massive tear through the Nevada desert.

(Click on the pic for a bigger view)

And that's about all I can tell you about Vegas - what can I say? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas... So here are a couple of other pics.

Ah, Paris...

Paris Hotel - possibly the flashest hotel I've ever stayed at, or care to think of the cost of...... The Strip, Las Vegas.

Yosemite Sam

Showing Yosemite the Love - Who doesn't want to hug a tree every now and then?








Liking the sun flare of late - just thinking why fight it???

San Francisco

For a long time I was misspelling San Francisco and trying to refer to it as San Fran only. Luckily I'm over it now that I have a more personal relationship with the place. I left off with being too lazy to ride back across the Golden Gate - well, not so much lazy, as trying to utilize our time better than retracing previous steps, or tyre revolutions....We caught the famous San Francisco cable cars back up the hills (which we were definitely too lazy for - they were big!!). Unfortunately the historical trolley cars are as old as they look, and half the passengers needed to disembark at the 1st steep hill, walk up and get on at the next flat intersection. The great thing about the drivers is that they ring the bells in very rhythmical way. I wondered if rhythm was a compulsory skill for the job.

So with the jet lag fading for the most recent Aussies, and me over my early morning, it was time to face our fears and pick up a large American vehicle and get ourselves safely out of town. Things were not looking good when I could not work out how to adjust my seat, and then required clarification on the 3 pedals on the floor. Fancy pants pedal park brake...

When I say large, think Ford Falcon, despite requesting a mid-sized vehicle. Having spent the longest recentest time in North America, I was driving out of town, something I was not phased about until getting there. Luckily it was almost insultingly easy to get out of town and over the Bay Bridge. One thing I will say, is that I'm pleased that the US Highway patrol is not as vigilant as they should be, as it took some time to register the miles as opposed to kms, and not speed that big American car along side all the other speeding American vehicles. Other than that I was an excellent driver.

The 1st day's drive took us west (east was out due to obvious geographical limitations) to Midpines, about 5 hrs drive immediately west of San Fran. Most of the trip was built up and passing truck after truck, then a cluster of fast food 'establishments' then more trucks, another truck, and fast food cluster, then truck, truck and eventually there was a bit of wide open space! At the time I mentioned how much the landscape reminded me of somewhere, but I've forgotten now - might think of it later. It was really dry, just like the hills around Wodonga as I remember leaving them - and hilly like that - perhaps it was Wodonga I thought it reminded me of...in summer.

Yosemite, on the other hand, was pine tree after different variety of pine tree. We headed into Yosemite National Park on the 9th Oct - Angie's birthday actually. I mention this specifically because of my frustration at the very few bear experiences I'd had in Canada which resulted in me making the point to one of the girls pre-trip that if Angie saw a bear (knowing that we'd be in Yosemite that date) I would be - slightly upset. Why? Because who wouldn't like a bear experience on their birthday just 4 days prior, and jealousy is an ugly thing...

I'd wanted to see Yosemite since studying Ansel Adams in 1st year uni. He has mastered the ability to produce the perfect black and white print - most of which were taken in Yosemite. So the first thing I did after parking the car and running into some red deer wandering around the visitors centre, was head to the Ansel Adams Gallery for a few pointers. Unfortunately my skill is no where near the realm of Mr Adams.

There are a few walking trails quite close to the visitors centre so that the day visitors don't have to carry food and plan their walks weeks in advance. We started with the walk to El Capitan, following the road slightly, before diverting over to the river where we stopped for lunch. We resumed the trail with renewed vigour (just cause I love the expression) and were wandering along the trail merrily in conversation about goodness knows what before I stopped dead in my tracks to watch what I thought was a dog/coyote/wolf ( as my head tracked it) before realising there was a little black bear crossing our path about 60m ahead of us. I turned to Pooh and Charm to shut up, which took a while as they thought I was mucking around at the thought of a bear in these there parts. By the time they stopped and realised that I would never joke about something like that, Angie had took off about 10m back behind me, which I thought was an interesting juxtaposition with my temptation to just run ahead and get a closer look. I say temptation because I was nearly off before I remembered that mum would not be too far away. Dammit.

For the purposes of story telling, Yogi crossed the path and wandered into some long grass, then onto a log just for one last look, and then was off. I didn't manage to get the camera out - it was one of those moments you know won't last long, so do you fumble for the gear, or do you enjoy it for the moments you have. I chose to take it as it came, and love every second. Need I say that there was much rejoicing after the fact - and I don't mean the sarcastic much rejoicing of Monty Python's Merry Minstrels - honest to goodness beaming grins and hi 5'ing...followed my my realisation that my prediction of Angie having a bear experience on her birthday had come true.

Most of our day paled in comparison to that, but at the same time was a ripper day still. We drove up to Glacier Point, driving through the most amazing variations of Fall colours. By the time we got there it was freezing, so decided to head back down to catch sunset on Half Moon Dome (the single best Ansel Adams pic that inspired me to go) but we were not in luck that day. After an awesome day it was time to head for the ... rest of the hills; delayed somewhat by a truck stick on a narrow bridge crossing, and finally home, ready for an early start.

Roadtrip USA, Part 1

Roadtrip USA 2007 - California Interstate 99 heading to Las Vegas, Nevada.

Golden Gate Bridge, not looking very Golden due to sun and angles etc, but I kinda like it better anywho. Looking back from the northern peninsula - if I panned left you'd see the pretty cool skyline of San Fran city.

Time Vortex

OK, sorry the blog has not been updated for almost the entire trip - and you're still not in lick today. Our hectic schedule and lack on internet cafes as EVERYTHING is now free wi-fi for yuppy laptop owners (yes, I am bitter and completely jealous) so have had very little opportunity to blog. But enough with the excuses, I will endeavour to do a big blurb ASAP with pics as soon as possible. Even if I have to wait til I'm back to Canada and THEN I will do segments so its not just a little too much.

But here's a teaser:

San Francisco - I continued my feeling of being cold continually at the airport. The days were beautiful and sunny, although the evenings got really cold. It goes without saying that it was brilliant to see my 3 buddies walk through the Int. Arrivals gate (albeit over an hour late, compounded with my early arrival) but after the bone crushing hugs and stubborn tears, it was like the 6 month distance had never happened.

The hostel - well, best not mentioned, but at least we didn't have to share our room with others. The Blue Angels were flying that weekend so it was packed down on San Fran Bay. I couldn't help note the excess use of fuel on those things just to promote uncle Sam, but then I'm not the best ambassador for pro American relations. Sleep was at the fore front of every one's minds, (even I had a 4am start) so it was not a late night.

Sunday was high adventure - hiring bikes to ride the Golden Gate Bridge. I'm not all that into bridges, but it was kinda cool - you were so high up from the water and it was windy as anything. We rode clear 'cross to Sausalito where we stopped for lunch and caught the ferry back (we were not that keen!!! its a long way!), past Alcatraz which looked like one of the worst prisons on earth quite frankly..... TBC.

Temping

Yeah, really don't like temping - feels like I'm prostituting myself...I folded 4 reams of paper in half Friday afternoon instead of looking forward to beer o'clock. Makes you miss the old job that you know and occasionally love. Tomorrow I think I get to stuff envelopes, oh yeah, let the good times roll.

For those of you who don't know, this is my last week in Vancouver. I'm leaving early, early Saturday morning to fly down to San Fransisco and an awesome 4 week roadtrip with a few of the posse from home. When I come back to Canada I'm heading to Ottawa to see what else this country has to offer. For those of you with my contact details, that mobile number will be active until 1st November and then I'll need to get it changed to Ottawa local. Yes, it is very annoying. Backwards in so many ways... Obviously you can throw out the street address, I never intend to set foot there again...

It was freezing and wet in Vancouver when I wandered down to Granville and Broadway to catch the Quickshuttle to Seattle. I'd opted for 2 jumpers, and had a beanie in my bag, which didn't stay there all that long as I waited, and waited, and waited for the bus. My ticket said to arrive at least 15 minutes early, but I could have actually shown up 5 minutes late and still had the required waiting time covered.

I was hoping that it would be warmer on the bus, but all I could manage was removing my beanie - the air conditioning was not set for the cold Australian shivering in seat 31. It took us about an hour and a half to complete pick ups and finally make it to the US Border. Once there we sat and sat and sat. Me? I was just pleased that the bus was in the off position and no more air conditioning! It was an uneventful border crossing, I got fingerprinted and retina scanned, paid my $6 for the privilege and that was it - free to come and go as I please for the next 90 days. The whole process took us just under 2 hours - quite good apparently. Unfortunately we were still over 2 hours away from Seattle.

It was after 11pm by the time the bus pulled up in front of the Best Western Executive Inn. Unfortunately this was not where I was staying. I had decided that I would find a cab at this late hour, but as I was standing on the sidewalk waiting my desperation for warmth over-ruled my better judgement, and I started walking the 12 or so blocks. I was trying to not look like the tourist that I was, but I wasn't doing so well at hiding the bright red back pack on my back...I have to say, I was pleased when I got to the nicer blocks on 5th, where the nice stores with the bright street lighting were, there are alot of homeless people around Seattle. Subsequently I was kinda jumpy the whole way there - one guy I passed (not even homeless) said "Hi" and I braced myself to run...

I was happy and warm when I got to the hostel - which then became a nice little self-perpetuating cycle. Even at that hour the hostel was still buzzing, but then Friday night, not surprising really. The hostel was a little grungy, but the bathrooms were immaculate - which still didn't mean I wanted to eat my free breakfast off of it - but its what generally separates the good from the bad in the hostel world. I was in a dorm room of 6 and needed to climb through clouds to get to my bunk. I hoped and prayed I didn't need to toilet that night.

Next morning, not fancying the make your own waffles breakfast I headed out to Seattle's Best Coffee to see if the claim lived up to its name. Unfortunately I have succumbed to the muffin culture here. I love walking into a cafe and studying the huge array of flavours, and finding the one that just leaps out at you. Of late I've been favouring anything cranberry, preferably with bran, just to maintain that illusion that this muffin might actually be good for me. Seattle's Best Coffee had great muffins, but the coffee was falling short. Regardless it gave me the start I needed to hit the pavement.

First stop was the Pike Street Public Markets - more specifically their Flying Fish. One of the prominent fish mongers has created a very successful gimmick of flinging whole fish from the ice stalls out front, about 3 or 4 meters over the counter to the waiting papered hands of the guys out back to wrap up. The guys usually throw the fish back to the frontman who catches it bare hands - which is kinda impressive, as there's a bit of pep in those throws. The standing gag is then that the guys out back will fire a plush shark back out to the frontman who is 'not ready', and it flies into the crowd who think they've just been struck by 20lb of dead fish. The reactions are quite amusing.

Knowing that the markets didn't really fire up for a few hours, I wandered down to Pioneer Square, an older part of town with original red bricked buildings and an awesome book store that I would so love to convert into a multi-leveled loft open style apartment...Other than that, I didn't find Pioneer Square all that exciting; Seattle's coveted Seahawks home ground was there, but that was about it.

I'd also read that Jimi Hendrix was buried just out of town, but I was being a bit lazy, so just wandered up to Capitol Hill to see the statue I'd heard would be covered in flowers, and offerings of cigarettes shoved in the mouth. However when I go there it was a pristine bronze statue - not quite the edgy homage to Jimi I was hoping for, or expecting.

It was about lunchtime by this stage, so I grabbed something and explored the markets, now in full swing. It was packed. And I kinda kept getting lost between levels - there was no real structure to the place, there were just rooms and stalls everywhere - the levels were not even level. It was kinda up and down, and there were corners in corners but it was fun to get lost for a while. I needed a coffee, and being the birthplace of Starbucks I was determined to buck the system and avoid the chain store all weekend. It was actually easy - I think Seattle's economy is based on coffee. If the flow of caffeine suddenly dried up, Seattle in not a place I would like to be.

Next I caught the monorail up to the Seattle Centre, because it seemed like the thing to do. Its a funny thing - if you looked at it, and closed your eyes, you could really picture life circa 1962 when it was built for the World Trade Fair - it just has that surreal look about it, particularly as it comes through the Experience Music Project building as pictured below - I can't be certain, but I think that architect may have been on acid. I walked back through Belltown, loaded with bars, and couldn't help wonder if they'd been around long enough to have maybe been visited by Kurt Cobain, or any of the other famous Seattle music exports.

For dinner I decided to head to the Pike Brewing Co. as I'd heard their brews were decent and the food wasn't too bad either. I ordered a Kilt Lifter; just cause I liked the name, but it also turned out to be a rather nice drop. My waiter reminded my of Uncle Fester, but had loads of energy, a big deep voice and great sense of humour. He probably felt sorry for me eating alone and so made sure I was well looked after. When I left I had a go at him for not asking me for ID - he looked worried for a microsecond, and then practically laughed at me outta there, he'd already gotten his tip.

Sunday I breakfasted at the Crumpet Shop. It was something different. Then I needed to check out, so grabbed my backpack and headed out. I needed to fill in 6 hours until the bus left, but by then I was tired of wandering alone, and with the added weight of my backpack, I decided to try to get on an earlier bus. I just had to try my luck cause I had no idea when any of the other busses were leaving. Thankfully I was only 45 minutes early for the 1.30pm bus. I called the bus company and OK'd everything and that was that. Crossing back into Canada was a simple half hour process. In fact there was barely time for a bathroom break...It was nice to get back to Vancouver - not to be back in Vancouver, but to know that I was ready to leave it, actually.