In a episode of Peep Show I watched the other night, Mark was getting a lap dance from a lady whilst trying to write a business proposal called ‘Project Zeus‘. The Dancer glanced over Mark’s shoulder at his Laptop and commented that his content was a bit on the thin side and went on to give him the advice that he should be able to sum up all his objectives in one line. As I was currently trying to list my objectives for Operation Americaargh© and a way a to start my journal for it, I took this scantily clad lady’s advice very seriously indeed, and so apart from this opening paragraph. I’ve decided that the very first part of my journal for Operation Americaargh© should be my objectives summed up in one line. So here we go:

On 16th May I will fly to New York to attempt to travel in a big circle so that by 16th August I will be back in New York.

I’m not sure if one sentence equals one line. I summed it up in one sentence which was just over 1 line long, but then I could always change the font size to make it fit on to one line. I don’t feel too pedantic today but that could all change in the next 3 months.

I suppose that’s pretty much my objectives in the simplest form possible. The size of the circle will either expand or contract (probably the latter) depending on my average speed and how long I plan to stay in some places. So far, I only have two times where I absolutely must be in a particular place at a particular time. The first is Montreal on 2nd June to meet my girlfriend who is joining me for 2 weeks. The Second is San Francisco sometime in July (date to be confirmed) when I am to meet my old friend Martin and some other cohorts to take part in his Stag Weekend. There are the obvious places (Grand Canyon, Empire States, CN Tower, Yellowstone Park, Las Vegas) that are on my ’must see’ list for this trip but there are a few other stops and strange tourist attractions that I have in mind.

Anyone who hasn’t been to America has a image in their heads of what it will be like. I’ve grown up in the UK and like everyone else I’ve been subjected to American Culture and ideals in pretty much every aspect of my life. In a lot of ways, it’s impossible to avoid.

Be it food, drink, TV, films, books, music, art, advertising, money, credit cards, wrestling, morale-building exercises, oil, religion, wars, computers, coffee shops, compensation claims or language (Americanisms), I’ve been exposed to America without even being there.

The image that I have of America has become very clouded over the years. When I was young, apart from the fact that I thought America was just off the Isle of Thanet in Kent, next to where I also thought Spain was, America did seem the most exciting place in the world. I imagined that everything was like what I saw on TV. Magical and enchanting places dotted around the country like Disneyland, Universal Studios, NASA Space centres and Hollywood. Your friends that were lucky enough to go there on holiday would come back with stories about giant burgers, Monster Trucks and huge skyscrapers. At school I innocently played Cowboys and Indians without ever questioning the history of the Wild West and Gold Rush eras; Everything seemed so much bigger, better and much more exhilarating than anything my small town and country could offer. Characters in the films and TV shows for younger viewers were clean, healthy, handsome role-models for us all. I suppose the exceptions to the rule are perhaps ALF, Benji, Grizzly Adams and ‘Beast‘ from the TV series ‘beauty and the beast‘, but then even they were beautiful on the inside.

The general consensus of Children’s entertainment was that everyone seemed to live in complete bliss and harmony. Programmes that were directed towards the slightly older viewers still held on to these aspects but also brought in the elements of good always overcoming evil and an overload of slow motion action sequences. We may have had guns in the kids programmes when we were growing up but did anyone ever really get shot in the A-Team, Airwolf or Knight rider? - The ‘good’ were experts at hitting ‘evil’ vehicles with such precision that they would always crash and turn over and the baddies would always walk away unscathed and ready to go through the whole process again and again, but with slightly less pride and self esteem than the time before. It’s not a too dissimilar way to the Coyote and the Roadrunner cartoons.

As I’ve grown older and debatably wiser over the years, another image of America has appeared parallel to this wholesome, naïve and TV saturated view I originally had. As the films and TV shows got more adult orientated then everything got even more exciting, hard-edged and fast-paced (even the slow motion sequences were fast). Here was another America with a side that liked explosions, car chases, fights, drink, drugs, sex, guns, quips and one-liners.

As I took more notice of the news, politics, religion and history of America, yet another Image appeared parallel to the original but now much less realistic, youthful image. Now I’ve been reading about pointless Wars and Government Cover ups; a quite real obsession with guns, plastic surgery, celebrity culture and material possessions; There are areas in America where people that we might describe as extremists live in their small compounds trying to isolate themselves from the rest of the ’unclean’ world and there have been well publicised school massacres which no-one could possibly begin to start comprehending how and why happened (unless you believe it was Goth Metal music and Video Games). And of course, there is the very debatable history between the Whites and the Indigenous Tribes of North America. We also hear about the unhealthy overindulgences like fast food and Gambling and of course, we hear about this self-belief amongst the Americans that they belong to the best Country in the god-damn world.

I suppose the image I now have is an amalgamation of ‘all of the above’ but surely there are too many contradictions and impossibilities here?

America is a big Country and I’m sure that this is what I am about to find out in a very ‘real‘ way. I’m sure there are these large diversifications in society and culture. They are most definitely across the whole of Europe too. Maybe we Picture America differently because it is one Country whereas Europe has 27 different countries in the EU alone with different languages, traditions and laws thus making it easier for us to accept the differences.

I do want to find an idyllic American town where everyone lives happily side by side in complete harmony. Where everyone smiles at passers- by in the street, the paper boy still delivers the paper by throwing it on to the lawn, and old ladies still bake Apple pie every day and it can be smelt all the way down the street. An idyllic place that has a health community small town spirit. This would fit in nicely with my original, innocent image that I had as a child.

I also want to find the elements of the other images that I have developed over the years and indulge in a few cultural pilgrimages. I want to visit the roots of different genres of American music such as soul and Motown in Detroit, the West Coast sound of California, grunge from Seattle, the lo-fi college rock/pop sound from Georgia, Country and Western in Tennessee and the Delta Blues in Mississippi. There will be the Locations from Films or TV programmes that had such a cultural impact on me from an early age; who doesn’t want too see the fire station from Ghostbusters? I also want to go to landmarks that I think are poignant reminders of the past, whether it be for good or bad. These places may or may not include the smouldering hills of Centralia, the Nevada Nuclear Test sites, Gold Rush Ghost Towns, The Niagara Love Canal and Galloping Gertie .

There are also the sub-cultures that have been well documented over the recent years, such as the televangelists, the separatists and survivalists, the Las Vegas gamblers, the new age psychics and healers, the conspiracy theorists and the UFO believers. How widespread are these sub-cultures? Some of these are more sinister than others but I hope there will be light hearted adventures such as the Fancy Rat and Mouse show, the Judy Garland Festival, the Marfa Lights, Gravity Hills, Jackalopes and Big foot spotting and the Montgomery Flea Market that shows the more innocent, humorous and eccentric side of America.

I do not know how much of this I will actually get to see but through the research I’ve completed so far, I get the feeling that the images of America that I have already created, may get even more muddled before I make any sense of the place.

I will categorically state now that there will be no references to that song by Mr Sinatra throughout this first blog. New York is also one of those Cities that many people have been to or at least we all know something about the place. As soon as I arrived, it was all eerily familiar for somewhere that should be foreign to me. I guess this is the power of television at work. So as this is the case, I’ll try and keep the details about my visits to the well known tourist attractions to a minimum unless I think my long-winded thoughts and opinions are worth mentioning.

Well, I’m here in the U.S. of A. The flight was pretty uneventful apart from one incident about 2 hours into the flight when I was awoken from my half slumber when a woman 2 rows ahead let out a large scream. Everyone was startled and it took literally 2 seconds for this woman to be surrounded by petrified and concerned looking stewards; the first time I‘ve seen a steward without a smile on their face. It turned out that the woman had been startled by a scene in the in-flight movie she was watching. She explained to the worried stewards that she was surprised by a Wolf in ‘The Day after Tomorrow‘; I wonder what made this woman think that a (terrible) Disaster Movie centred around New York would be a good choice for entertainment on a flight bound for New York?

I also helped an old Spanish man sitting next to me fill in his Visa forms for which he was very grateful. Due to the language barriers between us, I was convinced that I’d helped him incorrectly and so after getting off the flight I made sure that I kept my distance but with one eye on Passport control to hope that he didn’t try and blame me for the reason his forms were such a mess. Fortunately he got through and so did I, even if it did take 2 hours for everyone’s fingerprints to be taken on the flight. I now fully understand the sense of urgency all the passengers had when the plane landed. Everyone clogged up the gangways, pushing and shoving to be the first off the plane. I calmly continued reading until the plane was empty and then made my way off the plane only to be confronted by a ridiculously long and slow moving queue. But then we British love our queuing, or at least we put up with it.

After an agonising 2 hour wait to enter the land of the free (in comparison, I got through communist Vietnam Passport control in about 25 minutes) I went out to get a taxi into Manhattan. Mario the taxi driver didn’t disappoint and lived up to many a New Yorker stereotype. After a speedy trip from the Airport to the hotel, I dropped off my bags and headed out to get a strong coffee from somewhere to help keep me awake until the evening and quickly found myself by Central Park. The Weather at this time was great so I thought I’d walk the Perimeter. I always find City parks a great way of slowly integrating yourself into a new city so I try to head for them first. Anyway, I was taking in my surroundings and relaxing in Strawberry fields when the heavens opened up and the rains came, and they kept coming until the next day. I ran back to my hotel to change clothes and then decided that the rain wasn’t going to beat me and so I headed back out again to find somewhere for dinner. I wish I had decided the rain had beaten me. It wasn’t the end of my first day and already I’d ruined 2 of my 3 sets of clothes.

The next day I was up very early due to my expected Jet-lag. After a quick breakfast of Coffee and fruit I was off to the information centre to pick up a small map and then continued on a walking tour of Mid-town Manhattan. I took in Times Square, Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, Grand Central Station and plenty of other fantastic art-deco architecture which this area is so famous for. The afternoon was spent in the Museum of Modern art which had recently reopened after a comprehensive expansion and re-fit. I’m pleased to say that I’ve now started to appreciate Jackson Pollock and even Matisse even though I think he is inconsistent and a bit childish at times. I was quite stunned by the amount of people that like to go round taking pictures of the artwork on display, even going as far as to take separate photos of the captions underneath. I don’t quite understand the reasoning of taking a photo that is unlikely to come out properly and so not doing the art proper justice. The Museum also has a sculpture garden which is currently housing two large steel sculptures for people to walk through. In the middle of one was a security guard, standing on his own with nothing to look at apart from a corroding steel sculpture encompassing him. I asked “Do you have to stand here all day?” to which he replied in a flat toned voice “8 hours a day”. “8 hours! My God, how do you cope?” I said, “I’m not sure” he replied, looking on into the distance with a 1000 yard stare even though he could only see 5 yards in front of him. “I’m starting to hope that someone steps out of line in someway, at least I’d have something to do but people walk in, see me and generally feel intimidated and walk out again” he said despondently. I offer hope by telling him that his intimidating presence may well be adding to the artwork. He shrugs his shoulders and says “It’s a crock of shit if you ask me”. I laugh but I too now feel intimidated and so leave shortly after having a quick look around this man’s home from home.

In the evening, I met up with Paul, an old friend from London and we made our way to a gig; Deerhoof at the Fillmore. It’s part of a David Bowie Curated festival and all I can say is that the gig was art-rocktastic. I never realised they were just a 3-piece especially as they make a monstrously loud sound. It’s all Guitar, Bass and Drums although the drummer only had a high hat, snare and bass-drum. They were also accompanied by a new contraption they were showcasing that night which was a fan covered in brightly coloured LED lights which seemed to be triggered by the Snare drum. Although slightly fairground like, it certainly added to Deerhoof’s colourful set.

Friday was again started with Coffee (extra-strong this time) and fruit before a subway ride down to Bowling Green to catch the Staten Island ferry, which at the perfect price of nothing, gave the best views of the Manhattan Skyline possible, even though it was very overcast. After the ferry, I headed through the Financial district to take in Wall street and the WTC site. Ok, there’s not much to see at the WTC site apart from a big hole and lot of construction workers. This doesn’t stop the tourists coming here in droves to take and pose for photos although the smiles were absent from the tourists faces which is understandable really. It would be pretty inappropriate to smile broadly with a thumbs-up gesture here. I then headed East and over the Brooklyn Bridge before heading back to Manhattan and up through Chinatown (not as interesting as London’s) and Little Italy where I was able to indulge in some eaves-dropping so I could satisfy my Curiosity for hearing proper American-Italian accents and I wasn’t disappointed. The area whole-heartedly advertises and endorses it’s organised crime heritage which is understandable as it’s obviously a big tourist attraction. I half expected to see Disney-like Don Corleones greeting the tourists on the street corners.

I then headed through the oh-so-cool districts of Soho, Greenwich and the East village before spending the rest of the afternoon on the phone to my bank as none of my debit or Credit cards were working in any ATM’s. It turned out the bank and put them all on Hold due to irregularities. The irregularities being that I was spending money and on Holiday. I suppose you can’t dispute the security on my hard-earned funds, even if it did slightly worry me for a while.

On Saturday I travelled out of the Manhattan on the Subway and headed for Coney Island. Coney Island was on my ‘must see’ list. The Author Joseph Heller (Catch 22) grew up here and wrote about the area a lot, autobiographically and fictionally; the main Character from Catch 22 (Yossarian) even came from Coney Island and the sequel to the book centred around the famous Fairground being the gateway to Heaven and Hell so I wanted to see if the reality was anything like my imagination. The area was just like how Heller had described it. Coney Island used to be a huge tourist attraction and a place for Working class New Yorkers to come and relax on sandy beaches and enjoy the amusements on offer but this was back in the early 20th Century and a lot has changed. Unfortunately the area is now run down and has become one of the poorest boroughs in New York. The once famous Astroland Fairground appears to be on it’s last legs and seems on the brink of closure. Surrounded by Housing projects and high rise buildings, it doesn’t give off the impression of being a place that Tourists flock to and it could be intimidating for some but it’s certainly worth venturing out here to experience the history and echoes of the past; It is New York’s equivalent of Margate in England.

After Coney Island, I headed back into Manhattan to Hell’s Kitchen where a two day food festival was in full flow. Hell’s kitchen is famous for being the Irish-American Capital of New York. Originally famous for Irish-American gangsters and bootleggers as well as being home to many aspiring young actors, it is also a relatively poor area of the city despite it’s close proximity to Broadway and the rest of Mid-town Manhattan but it is now catching up (i.e. house prices are going up). It’s now famous for it’s diversity in Food and the main street is lined with 100’s of different types of restaurants and for the next two days, lots of food stalls so a perfect place for some lunch. I carry on walking North up past Central Park and past the Dakota Building (John Lennon’s former residence, Yoko still resides here, I believe) and all the way up until I reach Harlem. Harlem is renowned for being the centre of Black Culture in New York but is also renowned for being run-down and pretty much ignored by the local authorities so much so that it has formed it’s own self-reliant community. I had a brief look around but I must admit that the obvious poverty of the area was quite intimidating and I was worried about drawing attention to myself. It really was such a stark contrast to the rich apartments round Central Park West which was just 10 minutes walk from here. Again, I’m glad to have to come to look around especially as I live in one of the poorer and more deprived boroughs in London although I will never fully understand why such areas still exist in rich first world cities.

Sunday is my last full day in the Big Apple. I plan to go to the Natural History Museum in the Morning and then spend the afternoon revising my American Road signs as on Monday I head towards New Jersey where I plan to pick up a Van and then head back up the East Coast towards Boston and then Canada although at this moment in time it seems like a long way into the future.

As I’m hitting the road, I doubt my future blog’s will be as long and informative, unless my Van comes with wi-fi like my hotel where I’m writing this.

Thanks for Reading

Cheerio x

I didn't say anything about R.E.M song references so I'm allowed the title of this blog.

Today I did the Natural History Museum. I crammed in 4 Hours of Natural History; The most amazing thing was when I looked at the display case of British Garden Birds and finally realised that the birds nesting underneath my bedroom window in Hackney are actually Wrens. I can't believe it's taken me this long to work out; My Dad will be very disappointed in me but at least I've solved that riddle, If you can call it a riddle.

I also saw my first famous resident of New York: John Cale of the Velvet Underground! He was looking well (I'm sure you all wondered how he was) and he was enjoying a stroll round Central Park. Danielle text me to say that she'd seen Steve Davis, former snooker champion of the world. I'll let you decide who won.

Here are a few observations and points about New York:

1) It's a great City! I expect New York to be more 'European' in Culture than the rest of the States so this was probably the best place to start from. I expect it to get stranger and more alien from here.

2) People seem to appreciate me being polite and courteous. If you hold the door open for someone, you get a smile and some gratitude. This is more than you normally get in London. The first time in a long time that I feel my courteous and considerate nature (ahem) has been appreciated.

3) All drivers beep their horns constantly, just like London except the horns seem 10 times louder

4) People singing along to their Ipods at the top of their voices on the subway or walking along the street. I like people with no shame.

5) I’ve got to stop saying ‘Not bad‘ when someone asks me how I am and stop saying ‘Yourself‘ when I return the question of ‘How you doing?’. I get confused looks and a reply of ‘Pardon?’ every single time.

6) "I just Loooooove your accent". I have had this said to me twice but not in New York. Both times was when I was on the Phone to a different area of the states to my new mobile phone Company - I'm not going to say Cell phone... yet.

7) The service is too quick in Restaurants. It feels strange complaining about this but if I go to a restaurant. I like to be able to have time to glance through the menu. Order a drink 10 minutes before ordering my food and my food to take a while so I can converse with the people I am with or read a book if I'm on my own. I had Pizza last night. within 15 seconds of sitting down I had ordered a beer and less than a minute later, the waiter came back and wanted my food order even though the Pizza menu would take about 10 minutes to read through properly (there were literally 100's of pizzas on there, half were vegetarian which was great but they were in no particular order and without handy 'V' signs to indicate they were vegetarian). I asked the waiter if he could give me a while longer and so he left me and then came back about 1 minute later. I again asked for some more time and instead of giving me more time, all he did was quickly list of his recommendations to me at 100 miles per hour. So i just ordered a Mozzarella and Mushroom. Even though the place was busy, my food was in front of me within 5 minutes - I thought pizzas took at least 10 minutes to cook. I know I should be commending the Americans for their impeccable service. I'm sure there will be a time and a place when I will.

Tomorrow Morning I leave New York. God only knows where I’ll be tomorrow night.

Oh, and photos of New York are now on the 'Look' page.

On Monday, I left New York to start the next chapter in my gallant (or stupid) Journey. I got the train down to Middletown (New Jersey) which you could hardly call a town. I asked the Ticket guard which way it was to town and he said “This is it Buddy”. I called for a taxi and a guy called John picked me up and within 5 minutes I knew pretty much his life story. His kid was 13 and him and his wife were waiting for him to graduate before retiring up north as they could sell their house in New Jersey for a stupid amount and buy a much bigger house up in Maine for a lot cheaper. He also ran off a list of other jobs he and his wife used to do, how old he was (52, his wife had turned 50 at the weekend) and he hoped that the people of New Jersey had given me a warm welcome.
I got to the pick-up point and after a quick run-through of the Van’s features I was off but only as far as the supermarket as I needed to pick up some supplies. After my first experience of a U.S Supermarket, I checked my Roadmap and headed West to join the Garden State parkway. This was a HUGE road (6 lanes each way) and it was all rather daunting considering I had not driven on the right before or driven an automatic. After a couple of hours of driving though I started to relax a bit and even loosened my grip on the steering wheel; but only to get some much needed circulation through my hands. I had a quick pit stop at the end of the parkway and then joined Route 87 which took me up through the River Hudson Valley and towards the Catskill Mountains. I now felt comfortable enough to put on the radio for some entertainment. I had a quick Scan around and found a channel that was playing ‘Mrs Robinson’ by Simon and Garfunkel. It appeared to be a good choice as the hits kept coming; Joe Cocker, Talking heads, Jefferson Airplane, Stevie Wonder, Rolling Stones; Suddenly driving in the states was just like ‘Grand Theft Auto’ the computer game.
Once I was in the Catskill Mountains, I came across my first (un-planned) stop. This wasn’t actually one of my planned stops but I happened upon Woodstock and as it was getting late, I decided this would be the best place to park up for the Night.
It was like travelling back in time. Woodstock is still stuck in the 60’s. I’m not even sure that this is where the 60’s festival took place but the people sure dressed and acted like it was Tie-dye T-shirts, long hair, beards and bandanas seemed to be the normal attire for all the residents. Even the shops only sold 60’s music and souvenirs and there were even hidden communes further up in the mountains.
After driving round for a while, I parked up in a car-park. No-one was in the parking booth and the information kiosk was also shut so I walked into town and spoke to some kids, also with long hair, wispy goatees and bandanas. They were partaking in a game of hacky-sack. They said that no-one had charged for the car-park in years and they couldn’t see any reason why I couldn’t stay here for the night as no-one would really care. Unless the whole hippie vibe was just a sham (republicans in disguise), I decided to stay where I was.
I made my first dinner of cheese salad with Dijon and Honey dressing. It was only after I had prepared it that I looked for a fork and realised I didn’t have one and so had to eat the meal with my fingers. I was still a little unsure of whether it was ok to park up but I was tired and so I thought “Sod it”, the car park was pitch black by now and there were at least two other vans in the Car park. I put on a lamp and read until I felt suitably sleepy.

My first night sleeping on the road wasn’t the best. The stars in the sky were the brightest I had ever seen which was great to witness but this also meant that there was no cloud cover to keep the warmth in and so the night got colder and colder. I was also paranoid about someone with authority turning up and asking me to move on which was silly considering I was in a Village full of hippies. The cold was enough that by 6am, I’d decided to say goodbye to Woodstock. I still hadn’t bought all my provisions and so I decided to drive on until I found a place for coffee which I was in dire need of. We know what hippies do and even if they did boast the biggest kaleidoscope in the world as their big tourist pull (according to Rough Guide, it’s rubbish), I wasn‘t sticking around to see it. I’d only been driving 5 minutes when on the straight road in front of me I noticed a deer standing in my way and looking directly at me. I slowed right down and it still didn’t move so I came to a full stop and it still didn’t move. I tooted my horn (for the first time - How exciting!) and It ran off to my left. Then another one appeared, another one, another one and then another one. Shame I’m a vegetarian as the meat would have easily have kept me going for 3 months.
After coffee, I set off to find the historic town of Kingston which I’d passed the night before and expected to be round the corner. It was just round the corner but I still hadn’t quite got used to reading the roadsigns properly and so headed off in the wrong direction. After 15 minutes, I realised this and so turned back round. My first moan about Road signs in the U.S is that they rarely give you decent directions by town name, It’s all done by numbers and I’d normally passed my turn off before I’d processed the numbered sign.
I finally made it into Kingston at about 7:30 and parked up by the river. If I was looking for a peaceful American town where everyone smiles and said “Hello” (or “Howyadoin’” - the standard American greeting) then I might not find anywhere better than this. It seemed to have that Small-town American Character that I had been looking for. Paper-boy. Men out mowing the lawns, everyone did smile and acknowledge me as I wandered round the residential streets taking Photos. One thing that did worry me was that in the historic residential Area I wandered through (probably less than 500 people living in this part) there were at least 6 big churches. The other strange thing was that they all had signs outside advertising Ham dinners this coming Sunday. With such a small target market, I suppose they needed to entice people in, but did all of them have to offer Ham Dinners? Other Observations I noted was a picture of George Bush in someone’s window with the word ‘Impeach’ written in big letters underneath - A good thing to see in small-town America but I believe New York State to be predominantly full of democrats. Also, outside the Junior school, there were signs proclaiming it to be ‘Drug Free‘. After an awful breakfast of a crepe filled with Spinach (very bitter) and brie (definitely NOT brie), I got directions from the Waitress to Hyde Park. I apologised for not eating all of my Crepe ( I said it was no disrespect to her cooking, I just wasn’t Hungry) and left to drive on.
Again, I went the very long way round but soon found myself at my destination which was the Franklyn D. Roosevelt presidential Library. A Presidential Library is more of an archive and Museum than an actual library. Roosevelt’s was the first and now many presidents since him have a library in their Home state (Only one Bush Library in Texas so far, I wonder if they’ll put Junior’s next to Senior’s as some form of Annexe?).
I bought a ticket for the Library but not his House as I don’t like to go into People’s houses unless I’m invited and also if I put myself in his shoes, I’d hate it if, when I died, my room in Hackney was preserved and people came round to my House to see how I lived at home. Yeah, It could happen.
The Museum was very good and I learnt quite a bit about Franklyn’s life and how he was related to Theodore Roosevelt (very distant Cousin - apparently the Roosevelt family split in two in the early 1800‘s - How or why I do not know; Can you decide to split your family up?). What I didn’t know was that Eleanor, His wife, was Theodore’s niece, and according to the archives, this made her Franklyn’s 5th Cousin twice removed. Not that I have any idea what that actually means. Let’s just say they were very distant. There was also a World War II exhibition on in a separate part of the museum and I got to see the letter that Einstein wrote to the president, urging him to start building the atomic bomb before the Germans did. I knew and heard of this letter and I’d always wanted to see it so this was an unexpected item that I could tick off my list. Roosevelt took Einstein’s advice and started the Manhattan project but he died before the first Nuclear Test in New Mexico had taken place and obviously before the Bombs were dropped on Hiroshima or Nagasaki. I was reminded of a time when I was asked the question “What was dropped on Hiroshima on 6th August 1945?” in a game of Trivial pursuit. I answered “The Atomic Bomb” but there was a misprint on the card and the answer was given as “Phil Collins”. I was not given the piece of pie as the answer on the card is apparently final.
I left the Museum in the Afternoon and picked up some more provisions (knives and forks to be precise) and headed north back up the Hudson River to a campsite by Lake Taghkanic. As I got such a bad night sleep the night before, I decided not to overdo it on the driving on my second day so I could drive further North the next day to Albany before heading up to Lake George.

It was another cold night but I was more prepared this time around. I hadn’t yet got another blanket but I’d got 3 tops on and a wooly hat. I got a much better kip this time and felt ready for a longish drive that morning up to Albany. On the Outskirts of Albany, I saw a Wal-Mart and so thought I’d get that blanket I was meant to get the previous day; It was also a good excuse for my first ever visit to a Wal-Mart.
I walked in the door and it was like walking into a scene from Dawn of the Dead. All those lifeless eyes, and it wasn‘t just the staff, the customers also had that same look. True, there‘s nothing much to be happy about when you‘re shopping or when you‘re working in a Supermarket but this was far too eerie for me to handle. Within two years we can be assured of someone going on a Murder rampage in a Wal-Mart, the place is tailor-made for it. I didn’t go all the way round this time, I hadn’t had coffee yet so I wanted to get what I came in for and head off.
Albany didn’t appear to have much going for it either but I’d heard that the New York State Museum was excellent and also they had part of the original set of Sesame Street which I had to see. The museum was free and there was also a free art exhibition by New Yorker Alex Katz. I went to the exhibition first and as I walked to the entrance, I was approached by the Security Guard; I smiled and said hello to which he replied “This is an art exhibition, therefore, you will not take photos, you will leave your rucksack behind and you will stay 3 feet away from the paintings”. A little taken aback, I gave him another smile, said “OK” and put my rucksack down by the security booth. As I was doing this, the two security guards had a quick confab and I overheard the one who spoke to me say “Ok, I’ve got this one” and then he walked on round the corner. I picked up a leaflet on the Artist and started on the Exhibition. I turned the corner and there was the Security guard standing by the first 3 paintings, eyeballing me. I smiled at him and then he moved on round the corner to the next room. I then started trying to appreciate the art buy making sure I was 3 feet away from the paintings, of course. I turned the corner and the security guard was there again, eyeballing me, making sure I didn’t step out of line. This process continued throughout the exhibition, probably because I was the only person there and it gave him something to do. I’d hate to think it was because I looked ‘dodgy’.
The museum as a whole was excellent, I did get to see the Sesame Street set although they did have an obviously fake Oscar on display which slightly ruined the experience. They also had a good section on the World Trade Centre including parts of the flattened skyscrapers, a fire engine crushed in the collapse and a thorough history of the Twin Towers themselves. It brought home again, what had happened on that day and how well New York as a city had done to get over this catastrophe.
Albany didn’t seem to have much else to offer so I headed further North towards a place called ‘Glen’s Falls’. Unfortunately the ‘Falls’ turned out to be a huge industrial Dam and so it wasn’t as scenic as I’d imagine in my mind so I drove straight on and soon arrived at Lake George. Lake George reminded me a lot of the Lake District, A beautiful crystal clear lake surrounded by lush green forests bur also full of shops selling tacky souvenirs to tourists. I had a walk round the lake to take some photos which was pleasant enough. It was late afternoon by the time I got back to my Van and there was a campsite further round the lake so I thought I’d head to the Wal-Mart I passed a few miles back to pick up some bits for supper and then settle in for the night. Again, this Wal-Mart was as soul-destroying as the last one. This time, I went round the food section and was thoroughly confused by the whole experience. Size is a strange thing in America, You can either get something that is far too large (like 5 litre containers of water) or far too Small but in bulk (12 half litre bottles in one pack); there seems to be nothing in between. I also couldn’t find a vegetarian section and I was sure a Supermarket as big as this would be bound to have one. Also, America doesn’t seem to have heard of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes either to my obvious dismay. Their beer selections also leave a lot to be desired. I decided that from now on, I’ll try not to buy food from Wal-Mart’s again. Admittedly, I have seen that Documentary on them that certainly showed them in a very bad light, but like other documentaries in the same vein (Inconvenient Truth, Fahrenheit 9/11), I did think it was very biased and there was no real debate from anyone who thought differently or even had evidence to the contrary. Even, if the documentary makers are right (It does appear that Wal-Mart are Evil), we should be given both sides of the story.

On Thursday, I drove more than any other day so far on the trip, although the distance was still small compared to what was planned in the next few weeks. I drove out of New York State and headed into Massachusetts. I stopped at a visitor’s centre to pick up some leaflets on the area and found that there were very few Campsites but I found one in a place called Littleton which was about 30 Miles outside of Boston and so this seemed like a good place to set up camp for the next 4 days to explore the surrounding area. I stopped off in a place called Springfield on the way; I only saw Chief Wigham eating donuts, no one else. It’s quite amazing how mid-size towns in America have a lot in common with mid-size towns in the U.K, i.e. there’s nothing much to see or do. I stayed for an hour or two and then drove on towards Littleton and found the campsite and made full use of their Wi-Fi network. There’s something very surreal about sitting in a forest, surrounded by Squirrels, chipmunks, shrews and whatnot and being able to surf the internet.
The Next day, I made coffee and then drove to the outskirts of Boston with Pixies music blaring out the stereo, parked up and then got the Tram into the centre of Town. I hadn’t planned to go to any museums, I just wanted to have a good walk around. To be honest, there was only one site of specific interest to me and so I headed down to the North Shore area straight away.
January 15th 1919 was an unusually hot day and this caused a Molasses Tank in the North Shore area to expand and then buckle under the extra pressure, leading to an explosion which in turn caused a huge wave of a sticky Molasses to sweep across the area at a speed of 35mph and at a height of 40ft, killing 35 people (conflicting numbers) and injuring hundreds more. Buildings were destroyed and even the nearby train track and a train were severly damaged in the ensuing wave of Treacle-like substance. Local folklore suggests that on hot summer days, you can still smell the Molasses that had seeped into the concrete, unable to be expunged.
This was something that I’d read on the internet about Boston a few months back and so I due to my morbid fascination with such strange incidents, I wanted to see the site for myself. I knew it had happened in the North Shore area and so the plan was to head here and find the expected commemorative Memorial Statue or Plaque and mention it in my blog.
I headed straight down to the North Shore area and, as it was a very hot day, I kept smelling the air hoping that a sweet sickly smell would lead me to the spot. I came to the North shore area and saw a Memorial in the distance and so headed over to it but it was a War memorial, from there I could see another one and so again headed over to this but it was a memorial to a sportsman to which the baseball field was dedicated to. I walked around the area which had now been developed into a sport’s park (Baseball, Swimming and Ice skating) but I couldn’t find any sign of a commemoration to the disaster that had happened. I saw a sign to a Information Centre and thought someone there could point me in the right direction.
A solitary lady was sitting at the desk reading ‘The Da Vinci Code‘ - And I thought everyone in the world (apart from me) had already read it. “Excuse me, I’m wondering if you can help me - I’m trying to find the area where the Great Molasses Flood occurred”, The lady stopped reading and said “Well, you are in the right area, It’s so funny that you’ve come into ask about that. No-one has ever asked about it before” She went on to tell me the story of what happened on that fateful day again, the facts I pretty much already knew. I then asked whether there was some form of memorial to the incident to which she replied. “Well, I think there might be a small plaque somewhere round by the baseball field now but I’m not quite sure where it is, you see, it’s only been put up in the last few years as it’s something the City has never really talked about until recently and only then it was because a book came out on the subject.” I was intrigued, “Really, Do they mention it on the walking tours?” I asked. “Hmmmm, yes but again, it’s only an abridged version of what really happened, basically what I’ve already told you and you probably already knew. I can tell you what they don’t say on the tour though..” This greatly intrigued me as I wasn’t expecting there to be some underlying story behind this. I said I would love to hear what she had to say. Basically, it turns out that the North Shore area was the part of Town that was home to the many immigrants and poor people of Boston as well as being an area used for storage for goods that are transported here by train and boat before being transferred somewhere else in the States or abroad. The day was unusually hot for January, that we already know, and it later turned out that the storage tank was faulty, As the heat made the Molasses expand, the tank’s rivets and bolts gave way and it exploded over the area. This obviously meant that the company that were storing and transporting the Molasses were at fault for the accident but to admit to this would also mean that by law they would have to pay compensation to the immigrants and poor people of this impoverished area of Boston. Apart from the deaths and injuries, many people were also left homeless and more destitute than they were before. What then transpired was a ‘cover up’ by the City’s Media and Government. The incident was only marginally reported in the local papers and the Government did not admit to the storage tank being faulty, effectively trying to sweep the disaster under the carpet, so to speak. If the company that was storing and transferring the Molasses were forced to pay compensation then they may also take their business elsewhere.
A few years ago, a book called ‘The Black Tide’ was released and it discussed the disaster in great detail and the fruitless legal battles that followed. Obviously the people in the area couldn’t afford legal representation or challenge any decisions made about the incident, not that any decisions were made apart from clearing up the sticky mess. It was only after the book was released that the incident came back into people’s consciousness and the City’s history although the whole story is still not told due to the indelible stain it leaves on the City’s reputation. After some campaigning, the city finally put a plaque up two years ago and the tourist guides now incorporate an abridged version of the events that unfolded on that day in their tours of the city.
I thanked the lady for this information and headed back out into the North Shore area with renewed vigour in finding this plaque to see what it said. I searched for over 2 hours, trying to find this plaque, I asked local people including a policeman and a parking attendant who both had no idea what I was talking about. I sat down between the two baseball fields in the area on a wall. I found it so strange that a Country that even dedicates turnpikes and highways to local heroes would not put up a fitting memorial to this disaster. I went to walk away when I turned back round for another quick scan of the area when I noticed that the Wall I had been sitting on had a very small plastic plaque crudely attached to it. It wasn’t even at eye level which would explain why I hadn’t noticed it before. I was glad to have found it, even if it was so small and seemingly insignificant to the City’s history. I could move on back into the City for some more sightseeing.
I had some lunch and continued wandering around the main city taking photos. I wasn’t compelled to go to any of the museums, they were mainly science and Natural History museums which, I did in New York and I can go to two of the best in the world in London at any time so it seemed like a waste of time and money. One other thing about Boston that I couldn’t help noticing was the number of homeless people. There were hundreds and it seemed like a bigger problem here than in Manhattan and London. I noticed that there were a number of War Veteran Hostels too. Ironically the Army Careers office was actually next to one of these Hostels; you would hope that this might act as a deterrent to people joining the army but obviously not as when I arrived in the morning, there was one hopeful outside the Careers Office. As I meandered back through the park after taking the obligatory picture of the ‘Cheers’ Bar, a middle-aged African-American approached me shouting “Help the Homeless! Spare Change Weekly, Only 1 dollar”. “I’ll take one.” I said. “Hey, sure thing. That’s one dollar, please sir”. I gave him a dollar and said thanks and he picked up on my accent and offered his hand in friendship which I took, “I’m Charles, It’s a pleasure to meet you” he said. “I’m Glenn, Likewise it’s a pleasure to speak to a local of Boston”. He asked how I was enjoying Boston. “It’s great” I said, “But there’s one thing I’ve noticed that I didn’t realise before and that’s that there seems to be quite a big homeless problem here, I know most cities do have a homeless problem, but it seems much more prevalent here than say, New York and even possibly London and a lot of them also seem to be war veterans which seems a little sad to me”. He smiled and said “There’s a very good reason for that my friend, tell you what, have a guess at how many free meals that we get offered a day, how many would you think?” I thought for a second and gave back a reasonable answer of one. He gave out a huge laugh and said “Man, if you know where to go, you can get up to 8 meals a day! 8! At 5am, the church feeds you, at 7am you go to your hostel for breakfast. Hell, you can go to all the Hostels for breakfast if you want. Then there’s lunch at noon, snack time at 3pm and evening meals from 5pm. Even at night, the churches come out into the park with food to give you. They give you new clothes, the Hostels are clean and the rooms are beautiful and they can get up to $700 a month in Benefits. Homeless people carry there food around in Tupperware ‘coz they’ve got so much of it. The reason why they’ve got all those bags is because they are full of Clothes and food. They have NO REASON to do anything about their situation because they’ve never had it so good. On a beautiful day like this, they just sit in the park, it’ll be a warm night too so the Hostels will be empty, everyone will be staying in the park tonight under the beautiful sky, smoking a bone or two.” I was quite astonished by this Man’s honesty and willingness to talk about the homelessness and his opinion on the matter. “Wow” I said, “So, basically none of these people see the point in changing their situation because, they’ve got a good thing going?”. “EXACTLY!, Ok, some of them panhandle occasionally but most are happy sitting around watching the world go by, I for instance, couldn’t stand it anymore, I can make good money selling newspapers, I’ve got my own apartment now and ok, it’s not much but it’s mine and I don’t want to lose that independence that I’ve built up. I’m clean and I’ve not had a drink in 25 years; ok, I smoke the odd bone (cannabis joint) but I never touch anything heavy like crack or coke. I want to stand on my own two feet and not have other people take care of me”, he stopped for a quick breath. “The situation at the moment is terrible because the homeless are getting too much help!”
It seemed ridiculous what he was saying but it also made a lot of sense as it did explain why there were many Homeless people sitting around watching everyone else going about their daily business, especially as when I first noticed them, I expected to be approached by people begging for money every 5 minutes. I told Charles this and I explained that this is what happens in London and it’s now at the extent where people do it on public transport. He explained that does happen in other places and some people do beg here but they are more likely to be taking heavy drugs or they haven’t worked out how to play the system yet. It seemed so surreal that the Homeless had everything they needed. We chatted about a few other things, like his love for baseball and my love of Cricket and I even tried to explain a few differences and rules to which he replied “Man, and people think baseball is boring, a Cricket match can go on for 5 days and then there still might not be a winner? - That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard!”
We’d been chatting for quite a while and I then realised I was probably taking up his working hours and so we said our goodbyes and I headed off towards the Subway Station. Before I got there I heard a “Hey!, Hey Glenn!” I turned back round and Charles had chased after me. “I thought maybe you’d want to take a picture of me so you can always remember this brother you met” he said, slightly out of breath. “Oh yes, definitely, I can put it up on my Website”. “Cool, I’ve been meaning to start using that internet thing.” I wrote down the domain name for him so when he had the opportunity to get to a computer, he could have a look. We shook hands again and exchanged pleasantries. It’s amazing what you can learn from a City when you go there not knowing what to do.

The next day I went Whale Watching in Gloucester. The pictures will explain that experience better than words. They’re on the ‘Look’ page under Massachusetts.