Richard on tour

That'll Do

2004-12-13T20:46:00.000Z

Toronto

And so the five months is up. Tomorrow I get the plane across the Atlantic completing my trip east around the globe. Essentially all I've done is go a bunch of places, meet people and drink beer, but the sum of it all comes to a lot more than that. Everyone I've come across has been very friendly, and I've not been held up, attacked or robbed. I've even managed to not overspend my budget. And even though some of the places in it are better than others, having now seen a whole load of it I can say the world really is a lot better than people give it credit for.

All The Fun Of The Fair

2004-12-12T20:44:00.000Z

Toronto

I'm sleeping more and more these days, catching up after all those weeks in close proximity to snoring Germans. But I can't spend every day lounging around Jon's apartment in my boxers and listening to his secret stash of Abba records, so yesterday he showed me round his work. He's had a key role in organising a big family Christmas fair down on the lakefront that's running right through until New Year. There's lots of cool festive stuff like an ice rink, fireworks, llamas and so forth. It even put me in the Christmas spirit, and that's quite an achievement.

I've been to Canada a couple of times before but I'm struck again at how different it is from America. Even Toronto, which looks like those big American cities, doesn't bear much relation to them once you spend a few days here. It's not just that the Queen's head is on the money either, people seem to be more laid back here. It's often said that Canada is like America only without the Americans, which is a bit harsh on Americans, but it's as good a way of describing it as any.

You Lost Me At Banjo

2004-12-10T23:40:00.000Z

Toronto

Searching for something to do yesterday afternoon James suggested checking out a photography exhibition at a gallery. He'd seen the after-hours event advertised in the paper and it apparently featured the work of a well known local war snapper. When we turned up, admittedly a little early, there were only about three people there, milling about and sipping champagne. No photos were visible, however. As I lurked behind a pretentious looking book, James asked a woman what actually was going to happen. "Well," she said, "it's going to be an hour and a half long. He likes using the photos as a slide show and to have a couple of people singing. He's also brought his banjo..."

It was at this exact point we both decided we'd heard enough and quickly legged it to meet Jon for some beers. It was a narrow escape.

Keep On Truckin'

2004-12-08T23:34:00.000Z

Toronto

I'd like to say I've seen a lot of Toronto over the last couple of days but the truth is all we've done is drink and come up with in jokes. Jon's current transport is a ridiculous blue Ford pickup truck which makes me feel very North American. He even has some wood in the back which he claims is "for work" although I think he just has it there for effect.

Jon was otherwise engaged last night so me and James went to see some bands at a famous local venue, the Horseshoe. As the first act ran through their set I couldn't help noticing the huge 'Horseshoe' sign behind them looked more like 'Horses hoe.' Thankfully the show didn't feature anything equine or sexual, which came as a relief to both of us.

Party Time

2004-12-06T18:03:00.000Z

Toronto

It didn't quite take me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw, but for a while it looked as if I might have to. The morning after the party I was going to take a cab to the bus station, but the driver rang the wrong buzzer in the block of flats I was staying in so I had to suffer looking out of the window to see him drive off. Foolishly I tried to run after him, foolish because I had no chance of flagging him down and once I was outside I had no way of getting back in to the apartment. Feeling pretty bleary and with time ticking away I ran down the road to a 7-11 only to find the phone outside wasn't working. I went inside and begged the woman to let me use the shop's phone, and I managed to get through to the one taxi company that bothers to answer the phone in Saginaw on a Sunday morning. The guy on the other end said it'd be 45 minutes before he could get another taxi out to me, by which time my bus would be halfway to Detroit. With no dignity left I decided to beg him to help me out too, and then I went outside to freeze and hope a taxi would turn up in time. I've never been happier to see a fat man in a yellow car as when it came into view, and I made it to the station just before the bus pulled out. It's the kind of thing you don't need when you're hungover.

The party itself was quite an event, in a huge mansion in a gated community on the edge of town. The handful of brand new houses have a golf course running through them, that's how posh it all was. Borrowing a shirt I managed to look vaguely presentable and was able to charm my way round the place, nibbling on the fancy food I spent the afternoon helping to put together and knocking into the mulled wine. I'm not used to that level of wealthy company, but when you've got an accent over here it's just too easy.

And so I've made it here to the last stop on the line, safe in the knowledge I'm never going to have to ride on a Greyhound bus ever again. Jon met me at the station and James joined us later on for a few drinks. It was good to get back to some quality Canadian lager and tell five-year-old in jokes all night. We all look a bit older but in every other respect not much has changed.

Quite A Production

2004-12-04T17:40:00.000Z

Saginaw

The bus journey over from Boston turned out to be pretty eventful. The driver for the first leg of the trip seemed quite young to me and managed to get lost within an hour of setting out. He stopped and asked for directions before doing a 3-point turn on a dual carriageway across three lanes of traffic and we ended up getting to Albany in upstate New York a good half an hour late. I don't understand how you can get lost going from one major city to another on a straight main road, but the poor guy looked like he was on work experience so everyone was happy enough to let him off.

The delay turned into an hour when the bus cut out at Albany station and wouldn't restart so we had to get on a different one. All attempts to make up the time failed thanks to the terrible weather and at dawn in Buffalo I got my first look of the trip at snow which was liberally carpeting the place. Then things went smoothly enough until we reached the metropolis of Sandusky, Ohio, where some idiot not paying attention put his foot on the accelerator instead of the brake at a junction and ended up ploughing straight into the side of the bus. He lost the front end of his car but nobody was hurt. The real pain came from having to wait around at the side of the road for nearly two hours while the police completed the formalities. State law requires all passengers to fill out various forms and by the time it got round to me I was in no mood to mess about and made a report blaming the car driver for the crash, the delay and for being the man behind the grassy knoll.

Having missed the connection I had to wait around in Toledo for a couple of hours and finally made it to Detroit four hours late. My friend Tony who I met in St Petersburg was there to meet me though and we went out for a very welcome night on the town. After too much to drink and not enough sleep I find myself up here in Saginaw where Tony's doing the food for a plush housewarming/Christmas party tonight, so I'm off to spend my afternoon preparing hors d'oeuvres and sipping mulled wine. There are worse ways to spend my last day in America.

Witches Brew

2004-12-02T21:01:00.000Z

Boston

I took the train 20 miles up the coast today to the town of Salem, famous for being the "second oldest city in America" and as the setting for the witch trials of 1692. There was an interesting presentation on this at the local history museum. It seems 20 people ended up being executed after a bunch of young girls started speaking in tongues and named them. The whole episode lacked the style of European witch hunting in that nobody got burnt at the stake or thrown in the sea to see if they'd float. Nobody even got covered in tar and feathers, although one poor sod was crushed to death with big stones. Recently the authorities in Massachusetts officially pardoned the last of the dead people, which I'm sure came as a great comfort to them seeing as they've been dead for 300 years. At least they can take comfort in the knowledge they gave their lives for tourism.

Being Pretentious

2004-12-01T20:50:00.000Z

Boston

Last night the helpful local team of weather forecasters (they call themselves the 'Storm Force' - I kid you not) said it would throw it down all day again today, and they weren't wrong. In a bid to keep dry I headed to the Institute of Contemporary Art and a retrospective of the Ukrainian photographer Boris Mikhailov. Having recently visited I found it interesting to see his photos of Russia and the Ukraine both old and new, but it would have been more interesting had the whole exhibit not been quite so pretentious. Is it really necessary to have long explanatory screeds beside each group of simple photos? I don't think I'd make a museum curator.

The pretentious atmosphere of the ICA is in keeping with Boston generally. For such a famous city it's really very small and although undoubtedly nice you can't help noticing a superior attitude about the place. This extends to a lot of the people too. I'm sure it's a fine place to live if you're an intellectual liberal, but it has nothing whatsoever in common with the rest of America. Even cities as close as New York are a world away from the rarified cultural (and frankly up its own arse) air of Boston. Ironic the area that was so desperate to throw off colonial rule in 1775 should now be so desperate to be European. Massachusetts should really do itself and the rest of the country a favour and secede from the U.S. to rejoin Britain. No wonder its politicians keep on losing elections.

She's Still Dead

2004-11-30T22:50:00.000Z

Boston

It's only been about six months since the last one but yesterday evening there was another "exclusive" TV documentary on about Diana featuring all manner of "explosive" and "shocking" revelations. I'm a bit of a sucker for royal gossip but even I was hard pressed to sit through a whole hour of the breathless NBC show, although I now know that Charles and Di only met 13 times before the wedding and during their marriage only had sex once every three weeks. Part two is next week; my breath is anything other than bated.

I spent the day across the Charles River from the main city of Boston in the Cambridge area, home to the campuses of Harvard and MIT. Harvard is especially nice to stroll around, differing from British universities in that the grass is all well kept, the buildings are lovely and nobody is drinking in the afternoon. I went to a grill place for lunch where all the burgers have amusing names. I was tempted by the 'Dick Cheney' ("only a heartbeat away") and 'John Kerry' ("only flipped once") but in the end opted for a 'Tony Blair.' It turned out to be a bacon cheeseburger with onions which certainly filled a hole, although I'm not entirely sure what the significance of those toppings is.

Staying Out Of The Rain

2004-11-29T22:41:00.000Z

Boston

I decided to get the bus up here yesterday lunchtime, but with the Thanksgiving weekend coming to a close several hundred others had the same idea. Bus after bus left New York one after the other, only to get snarled up in a lengthy traffic jam made worse by some torrential rain. It was a slow journey and it had long since got dark by the time I got to the hostel a couple of hours late.

Today I went to the Kennedy presidential library and museum on the campus of the University of Massachusetts. It's a very strange looking building although it does give fine views across the water to the city itself. As for the museum it thankfully glossed over the assassination and instead had countless exhibits showing speeches of Kennedy's, many of which were very interesting. It was particularly good to see the lengthy extracts from his 1960 debates with Nixon and all told I spent more than three hours in the place.

Boston is home to another JFK and I'm writing this in the very grand library at Copley Square where John Kerry was to have given his victory speech on election night. Already he seems to have disappeared from view even around here. Apart from a few tattered looking campaign stickers on students' bags, Boston is visibly still more preoccupied with celebrating the Red Sox World Series triumph. But when you haven't won something since 1919, I suppose that's forgivable.

I'm Just Going For A Smoke

2004-11-28T16:04:00.000Z

New York

Saturday night in New York City and I went to the venerable CBGBs to see some local bands show their paces. It's more than twenty years since the place had its heyday but with its sticker-covered walls and beer-covered floor it's still an endearing spot to watch music. The city's now firmly in the grip of the smoking ban introduced by Mayor Bloomberg which has led to a very strange phenomenon. Every time a band finishes half the crowd rushes outside to light up. Conversations are abruptly cut off so the other person can go and crash a cigarette, which is the preferred way of putting it here. I'm told you get very strange looks if you ask to 'bum a fag.' Going around the city on a Saturday night you see often large groups huddling together against the cold on street corners, which looks very odd indeed, as if they're all part of some cult.

As for the music last night, it was interesting to see how the plates in American music have shifted over the last 12 months. A year ago when I went to CBGBs it was all shouty punk, but now it's pretty boy emo bands singing songs about their girlfriends and vulnerability. I can handle one band like that but three was more than enough, so I left early, pushing my way through the hordes of smokers on my way out.

Watching The Lights Flash

2004-11-27T16:58:00.000Z

New York

After escaping the crowds of shoppers I decided to visit the fifth and last city borough, Staten Island. Most people just go there because the ferry ride is free and you get a great view of the Statue of Liberty on the way past, and I was no different. Although the statue looked great all lit up, the best view I got of it was sitting at the dock waiting to leave when you could pick it out against the last of the dark red sky away to the west. Best sight of all though was Manhattan itself on the journey back. It was a freezing cold but clear evening which had the double benefit of forcing all the tourists inside after two minutes leaving the view pretty much to just me, and it meant the whole island was easily visible. Without the World Trade Center the lower Manhattan skyline is free of familiar landmarks now. As you approach from Staten Island you can't really see the big buildings of Midtown like the Chrysler building, and it's tough to pick out the Empire State even though it's lit up in red and yellow for Thanksgiving. But the panorama of all the different lights as you gradually get closer is indescribable. Anyone who says the best sights on the planet come from the natural world is just plain wrong.

Later on I went for a walk around the West Village and the Meatpacking district. I stopped for a drink in the White Horse Tavern, the pub where Dylan Thomas finally drank himself into the grave in 1953. No sign of poets in there last night, although there was a group of guys on a stag party trying to down a yard of ale. None of them got close but then they were trying to do it with Budweiser. Bloody Americans, they'll never learn.

Sales

2004-11-26T19:30:00.000Z

New York

I went out to the Bronx last night just to take a look around. Not really knowing where's a good place to go out there I took the 4 train right to the end of the line at Woodlawn, a supposedly Irish area of town. That may have been the case once but not now, there was nary a Paddy in sight. In fact there wasn't much going on at all, a combination of Thanksgiving and the freezing cold gale keeping everyone indoors, so I got the train all the way back to the East Village. Oddly enough the two pubs I visited both had Irish barmaids, genuinely Irish too, not just pseudo American-Irish. I had a couple of drinks and finished off "Wuthering Heights."

Today's the day after Thanksgiving and so it's the post-Thanksgiving sales. It's still freezing but at least it's sunny, and the city is rammed with shoppers. On 5th Avenue - a place where 'bargain' hunting is a somewhat relative term - the whole world and his trophy wife are perusing the various boutiques and peering into the windows of the top end jewellers' shops. Trying to get through the throng of people takes ages and means even I couldn't help looking in the windows too. None of the things on sale seem to have price tags attached. As the saying goes, if you have to ask the price, you really can't afford it.

On Parade

2004-11-25T20:44:00.000Z

New York

After a day getting square eyes looking at old TV shows at the Museum of Television and Radio and then watching the very funny Oscar-tipped movie 'Sideways' I decided on an early night so I could get up for this morning's Thanksgiving Day parade.

'Early start' is a relative term for me these days but I still managed to be out of bed not long after 8. It all started about 25 blocks from the hostel so by the time I walked down there and got myself in position I didn't have to wait long for the 9am start. The parade is a huge deal here, a national tradition broadcast live across the country and is therefore sponsored to high heaven. Macy's seem to pay most money as their branding was very prominent, but the first of the famous huge balloons to come past was none other than Ronald McDonald. I'm sure it's not just me who finds something slightly sinister in hordes of young children shouting 'Yay! McDonalds!' in unison, but whatever.

I realised I'm starting to get old when I failed to recognise half the cartoon characters as they went past. It was a relief when Big Bird and Kermit came along at the end, although the youngsters these days prefer Barney and Spongebob Squarepants, whose enormous bright purple and yellow balloons will probably give me nightmares for some time to come.

Borscht By The Beach

2004-11-24T17:04:00.000Z

New York

Continuing my tour round the outer boroughs I got on the subway to Brooklyn yesterday. I went all the way to the end of the line at Brighton Beach to have a look at the Russian part of town. The whole neighbourhood is right on Coney Island beach and has street names like Sea Breeze and Ocean Parkway, which makes it all the more bizarre to have all the signs in Cyrillic and everyone speaking Russian. It was just like being back in Siberia, except there weren't any holes in the roads.

I went into a restaurant for lunch and walked in on a funeral. I could tell it was a funeral because there were two long tables of Russians wearing black and drinking vodka. Keeping my distance from the soon-to-be-very-drunk hordes I tackled a salad before I got my hands on a bowl of proper hot borscht. There are some great soups in the world, but borscht is the big daddy. I'd been two months without any, and so that already familiar taste of beetroot and sour cream went down a storm. Eventually getting round to a main course I was pleased to see the place had a dish called 'meat and potatoes' just as every restaurant in real Russia seems to. So I had that, then a raspberry blini from a market stall, and staggered around for a while, happy to once again be weighed down with lots of Russian stodge.

The beach is big and has a huge boardwalk running the length of the front. It was pretty chilly and I needed my coat zipped and buttoned as I ambled around on the sand. A Russian girl in her 20s in front of me also had a big overcoat on, but then she stopped by the water's edge, took off her coat, jumper and jeans to reveal a bikini. Then she ran towards the sea, dived in and started swimming about. It must have been freezing but she managed a few minutes in there before coming back to the beach. She stood there for a couple of minutes as if drip-drying herself, then put her clothes back on and just walked off. All very strange.

I went to another gig last night, English singer Holly Golightly at the Mercury Lounge on Houston St. After a solid set from the International Shades, I thoroughly enjoyed Atlanta band the Woggles, although whether that had more to do with their energetic punk performance or the attractive young lesbians passionately snogging immediately to my left throughout the set, I couldn't really say. Since she appeared on the last White Stripes record Holly Golightly's become a bit better known and the small venue was rammed at the start of her show. Her bluesy rock was very good indeed, although the late hour meant the crowd thinned out by the time she finished up at 20 to 1. A good time was had by all though, and it's a relief to see someone actually justifying their 'too cool for school' status.

Tragically Hip

2004-11-23T17:23:00.000Z

New York

After a few hours mooching around the East Village I went to the Bowery Ballroom to see a couple of bands. Now, I've always thought of myself as being at least averagely trendy. I don't 'do' cool clothes or shoes but I can happily hold a conversation about Doves b-sides or the films of Wim Wenders. At all the gigs I've been to so far in America I've ususally been among the handful of scenesters loitering around at the back, affecting an air of superiority. But last night that was blown right out of the water. The crowd at the gig weren't just achingly hip, they positively reeked of it. Everywhere I went I heard people name dropping obscure West African singers or prattling on about contemporary art exhibitions. I'm fairly sure my accent was the only reason I was allowed to mingle with this set, but I did my best to stay out of the way so as not to interrupt anyone's flow.

Detroit band Blanche came on first. They dressed like characters from a Poirot novel and played intense alt.country. Most places they'd be laughed off the stage for their ridiculous attire, but here they got a decent reception. The hipsters had all shown up to see The Kills though, and soon enough on they came. If The White Stripes didn't exist this boy/girl duo wouldn't have a record deal, but they do and so they do, even though their desperate desire to stay as a duo curiously means the drummer is relegated to playing from off stage somewhere.

These days a lot of bands take on all the trappings of being successful - they feature in trendy magazines, are seen at all the right parties - without actually being particularly popular with the general public. They only assume the air of success because self-appointed arbiters of cool decide they ought to be successful. The Kills are one such band, and last night the audience was full of such people. They put on a good show, even though they played up the supposedly ambiguous nature of their relationship far too much for me, but nothing could hide the fact they haven't got any good songs. It's all very emperor's new clothes.

Close To The Edge

2004-11-22T22:47:00.000Z

New York

Something cool happened this afternoon. I was on 5th Avenue walking along and minding my own business when I noticed a commotion coming in my direction. A few security people were running on the pavement and I could make out an open lorry a few blocks away on its way towards me. As it got closer I thought one of the guys standing on it looked familiar, a bit like The Edge. And then a guy in shades stood up at the front and I could see two other people behind. It took a few moments for me to fully realise it but yes, that was U2 playing away right in front of me. The lorry stopped briefly which gave me enough time to snap a couple of pictures. They were doing "Vertigo" and I presume from the two camera trucks they were making the video, so if you see it on telly keep an eye out for a guy in a brown coat trying his best to look nonchalant. After about 30 seconds the truck started rolling again and they were off down the street. I suppose that's New York for you.

Curry

2004-11-22T17:29:00.000Z

New York

On my previous visits here I'd never made it off Manhattan so I'm going to try to get round all the boroughs this time. Last night I started off by going to Queens and the Jackson Heights area where the Indian population is based. Getting off the subway and walking around the few blocks nearby was like being back home with lots of late-night shops selling everything and guys on the street trying to get you to go into their restaurant.

Feeling hungry I decided to sacrifice quality for quantity and went to a place (inevitably called the "Taj Mahal") with an all you can eat buffet. It was so cheap the large Kingfisher I had cost almost as much as the food. After a couple of dodgy plates (including a pisspoor goat curry) I finally hit paydirt with the tawa chicken, although like the rest of the food it was a bit bland even for my British palate. New Yorkers obviously aren't used to the spicy stuff. In fact the only really spicy thing they had were the vegetable samosas, and a few of them made the beer taste all the better.

They Look The Same To Me

2004-11-21T22:08:00.000Z

New York

I suffered during the bus journey up here due to a blasting hangover following last night's hostel pub crawl in DC. We went out in Adams-Morgan which is an area rammed with bars, clubs and iffy-looking takeaway places. A curiously British sort of setting, in fact. Females made up a big majority of the people in the group including two Asian girls, one from Holland the other from Austin. As the night wore on everything started to get a bit blurry from where I was sitting and I produced some real smooth talking. Thinking I was speaking to the American, I asked the Dutch girl about her husband in Texas, then pointed at one of her friends gyrating on the dancefloor and said "see that girl from Rotterdam, what a cocktease!" The confused expression I got in response told me I'd done the old Prince Philip/slitty eyes thing. Thankfully the poor girl's English was less than perfect, I think she's still wondering what I was talking about.

And so I've made it to the self-styled 'Capital of the World', the ever shy and retiring New York City. I'm off to hang in the 'hood and keep it real.

Jock Rock

2004-11-20T16:37:00.000Z

Washington

My decision over what to do last night was made very easy when I found out Dogs Die In Hot Cars were playing just a few blocks from the hostel at the 9:30 Club. It's a great venue, similar in size and layout to the LA2/Mean Fiddler in London. To me the wisdom of booking Dogs Die in places like that over here seems a bit strange as they'd probably only just manage to fill similar venues in Scotland, and struggle to in England. Sure enough, they gave up selling tickets for last night's show and let everyone in free, but there was still a lousy turnout.

The support was Delegate, a competent lot from Richmond, Virginia. It was good to hear some decent playing and singing although they could just have put "The Bends" on and saved everyone the effort. Dogs Die have two songs of genuine top quality and they threw "Godhopping" in second, presumably to try to lift the sparse crowd of hipsters. They at least managed to get a few toes tapping by the time they played the fantastic "I Love You Cause I Have To" which came near the end. I'd not heard it in four months and it still sounds like the best time you ever had. And then it was all over, a good if short (40 minutes, no encore) set enjoyed by far too few.

As the band packed away their stuff themselves (bless 'em) I was lamenting this with a girl from Boston, reviewing the show for the local student rag. We chatted amiably for ten minutes about obscure British indie bands until I mentioned in passing I had a girlfriend. Within a minute she made an excuse and buggered off. Are all American girls like that? Maybe just the stuck up northeastern ones.

It Don't Cost A Thing

2004-11-19T23:17:00.000Z

Washington

The best thing about Washington is that pretty much everything you might want to go and see is free. The freest of the free attractions is the Smithsonian, a series of huge museums dotted around the National Mall. I only made time for one of them today and even then I didn't get round all of the National History Museum. Not surprisingly I found the section of the presidency exhibit devoted to 'use of the media' most interesting, and spent ages watching the archive of speeches. And so it was possible to see a fresh-faced Richard Nixon giving his 'Checkers' speech in 1952, and a few moments later watch the haggard president tell reporters "I am not a crook" some 21 years later. Sad I know, but it's the sort of thing I get a kick out of.

Washington is not a party town and the hostel is one of those no-fun-allowed HI behemoths that looks like a Swedish prison. It'll be harder than usual to find some Friday night action, but with my daily budget burning a hole in my pocket I'm going to give it a try.

Back In The Big City

2004-11-18T22:15:00.000Z

Washington

Another day, another gruelling overnight bus journey, but at least this time I got some free entertainment worthy of a bad episode of Jerry Springer. During a stopover in Columbia I watched as a very fiery teenage girl with white trash aunt in tow began blaming the woman at the station for her missing her bus. It had something to do with buses leaving from the wrong gates, but none of that seemed to matter as the insults started flying. The Greyhound worker finished up by calling the girl a "fucking bitch" before her colleague sent her home to calm down. Whatever happened to 'the customer is always right?'

I went for a walk around the part of town with all the famous buildings this afternoon. Mingling with all the civil servants and tourists reminded me of Whitehall only the area's a bit more spread out here. There's a new walkway on Pennsylvania Avenue so you don't have to be in another postal district to see the White House, although it's nothing spectacular in itself. Much better is the Capitol, and walking slowly up the hill from the Washington Monument in the warm sunshine was a great way to pass the time. I've got a feeling this lovely weather won't last forever though.

History Lesson

2004-11-17T23:48:00.000Z

Charleston

I got up late this morning after a few very cheap beers last night in a nearby ale house. There's a surprisingly large student population here so that sort of place is fairly thick on the ground. The girl who works at the hostel told me to go and see a free museum of historical documents just round the corner and I was glad I did. There are a few dotted around the country run by some rich history buff who goes around buying up old bits of paper of importance and putting them on show. At the moment the museum here has an exhibit about Napoleon with lots of the great man's letters and orders. The romantic novel he wrote about himself in his early life looked pretty funny to me, even though it was all in his absurdly ornate French handwriting and I could barely understand it. He obviously had delusions of grandeur from an early age, superseded by the actual grandeur he achieved later on.

Having been all round the South I've just about had enough of hearing about the Civil War, but I decided to visit one last site about it. Fort Sumter in Charleston harbour was where the first shot of the war was fired in April 1861 and it was just about worth the half hour boat trip out to take a look around what's left. The rebel sentiment isn't quite as strong here in South Carolina as it is in Georgia. Down there I'm fairly sure most people are still fighting the war, a legacy I suspect of too many nights on the sour mash dreaming of Confederate glory.

Catch Of The Day

2004-11-16T21:59:00.000Z

Charleston

This is a very fine city. It manages to have some great tree-lined main streets and grand old Southern houses without seeming too much of a tourist trap, like Savannah does. Wandering around is an all-day activity in itself, perfect for yet another clear sunny afternoon. I also get the impression the historic downtown is still a very lived-in area. Take away the ridiculous horse-and-carriage tours that are a regular feature of the place and it wouldn't seem like a tourist town at all.

I broke the day up by treating myself to a posh lunch. If there's one thing Charleston's famous for (other than dancing of course, and there's not much chance of me doing that) it's seafood, and I indulged in a fresh flounder in a little restaurant in town. With green beans and sweet potato, and washed down with some sweet iced tea, that's good stuff.

Mercury Falling

2004-11-15T22:46:00.000Z

Charleston

The ever-baffling Greyhound schedule meant I had to get up at half past four this morning to connect with the only bus here. It's been a lovely sunny day without a cloud in the sky most of the way, the coastal area of South Carolina is a very beautiful part of America to drive through. It's also somewhat parkier than Florida and as I head north things are only going to get more chilly so I went shopping for a new jacket this afternoon. Unlike many cities Charleston still has proper high street shops with few of the dreaded strip malls in evidence, so I managed to make the experience as quick and painless as possible. The wee guy in the shop persuaded me to abandon my traditional dark colour scheme in favour of brown. But then, as they say, brown is this year's black.

From Sea To Shining Sea

2004-11-14T19:22:00.000Z

St Augustine

I got my first view of the Atlantic last night here in America's oldest city. Even though it was dark when I got here it was easy to make out the white horses in the harbour, and impossible to avoid the fearsome wind fairly whipping in off the sea.

At the hostel I stumbled in on a cheese and wine party, which was a pleasant surprise. After a while everyone went out to the local fort to see the annual re-enactment of the siege by the British in 1702 during the War of the Spanish Succession. A whole load of guys were dressed up in period Spanish costume and they let a few cannons off. Some people in redcoats half-heartedly fired some muskets back from outside. After about half an hour we got bored and went to the pub. Despite my shouts of encouragement, it didn't look like the Brits were making much progress in storming the place. All those years ago they failed miserably to take the fort, but made sure of burning the whole town down before buggering off back to the Carolinas. I'll try to make a better impression than they did.

Small World

2004-11-13T16:20:00.000Z

Savannah

A guy arrived at the hostel last night and we spent a good five minutes trying to work out where we knew each other from. He was Australian, which didn't really narrow it down much, and he said he recognised my t-shirt, although given my pathetically small wardrobe on this trip that didn't offer too many clues either. After working back through the cities we've been to we finally worked it out - San Antonio. I suppose it's not surprising with only one or two hostels in each American city you end up running into the same people, but I still get a kick out of it.

This guy's allergic to most beers so when three of us went out we had to stick to the maize-based Corona, not that that's a bad thing. There's a big art college here and most of the bars were full of older students still lamenting the election result. One especially fiery girl who was speaking to us went on a huge rant against Rupert Murdoch, comparing him to Hitler and saying she hated him even more than George Bush. When I gently interrupted to point out I work for him the colour drained from her face and she just stared at me slightly open-mouthed. "Oh, that's good," she said, before sheepishly walking away. I think I spoiled her evening.

Dodging The Tourists

2004-11-12T17:30:00.000Z

Savannah

I'm at a disadvantage as a visitor to this city because I haven't read the book "Midnight In The Garden of Good and Evil." It seems everyone else has. Walking around last night with a young Italian - who was oblivious to the normal practice in American cities of keeping your head down and not looking like a tourist and insisted on whipping out his video camera all the time and doing a monologue for his 87 cousins back in Rimini - I kept on running into groups being taken round sites from the story. I'm sure it's fascinating, but I've not even seen the movie, so I had no idea what the ridiculously-dressed tour guides were talking about.

"Forrest Gump" was also shot here and just now I saw the bench they used, now in the local history museum. There's also an interesting display on the great songwriter Johnny Mercer which featured a real Oscar (bigger than I imagined) and a Grammy (really small) he won during his illustrious career. He was the guy who wrote "Moon River" and looking out at the grand Savannah River it's easy to see where he got the inspiration from. In common with the rest of the city, the riverfront area is certainly handsome but the whole old colonial atmosphere is a bit forced for the benefit of the tourists. And even in November, with the weather still very humid, there are plenty of them about.

Strike Up The Band

2004-11-11T20:54:00.000Z

Savannah

Having dragged myself away from the competing attractions of the college radio station and Richard Branson's new reality TV show, I went out in Athens the other night and found a decent looking place with a few bands on. As it filled up with a surprisingly healthy crowd of local scenesters a Pogues CD was playing which put me in the mood for a good night. First band on was called Marriage and it was apparently their last ever gig, for reasons I couldn't quite make out. Resisting the temptation to walk around the crowd making 'marriage break up' jokes I sat back and enjoyed a decent 45 minutes of slightly shouty rock. By the time the next band finally made it on things had started to get a bit hazy as all the cheap student beer started going to my head. In fact the only thing I remember about them is that the singer had ginger hair. Suffice to say I don't think I saw the new R.E.M, but I still had a fine time.

Before leaving the city I finally gave in to my curry craving and went to an all you can eat place for an early lunch. I only realised once inside that it was vegetarian Indian food, but I gamely went up and down and had three plateloads of the stuff I normally ignore on the menus back home. It all tasted great to me but then I've been without my regular fix of Rogan Josh for four months now so it would have had to have been truly rubbish for me to turn my nose up. I had three plateloads, two naans and four glasses of Coke, and settled in for the bus journey over here to Savannah.

After a pleasant journey through the cotton fields (the crop makes the fields look like they've been snowed on) the bus stopped for five minutes at a one-horse town in the middle of nowhere. One odd guy who'd been getting off at every stop and running around the bus got off again and then just disappeared. By the time everyone realised he hadn't got back on we were already most of the way here. The driver came on the intercom and said it wasn't the first time that sort of thing had happened, and that the village's local police would probably put the crazy guy up in a cell for the night. Apparently they don't charge for it, although he'd have a 24 hour wait for the next bus. At least his bags made it all the way.

Went out last night with a couple of guys to see a blues band at a bar in town which was pretty fun. Was woken up this morning by the sound of a marching band. Heading bleary-eyed down the street I found a whole bunch of people warming up for the Veterans' Day parade, so me and a girl from the hostel decided to sit and watch it all. It went on and on and on for more than an hour, with all sorts of bands, majorettes, scouts, firefighters, fraternity brothers, the local sci-fi society (a guy was marching dressed as a Klingon - no, really) and even occasionally some actual war veterans. It was fun, although quite a change from the sort of Remembrance Sunday service we have back home. They didn't even bother with a minute's silence at 11 o'clock, but then they did have people dressed as characters from Star Trek. And you don't see that at the Cenotaph.

On Campus

2004-11-09T19:53:00.000Z

Athens

Beginning a General Sherman-like march east across Georgia I’ve stopped off here for a night in the Classic City. A third of the 100,000 or so residents here are students at the University of Georgia (whose facilities I'm currently abusing having sneaked into the library) and the whole city feels like one big campus, only with lots of tastefully planted trees and bushes masking the concrete university buildings. In fact there seems to be more greenery here than in all the other American cities I’ve visited put together, which makes it far from unpleasant.

It’s more than 20 years since bands like R.E.M, the B-52s and Pylon emerged from here but the Athens music scene still has a big reputation, so my mission for the next 24 hours is to see if it’s justified. Listening to the local college radio station in my motel room a while ago was interesting. I sometimes used to wonder whether British student radio was in the same league as the much-vaunted American scene. Well, I was impressed by the music on the UGA station which was uniformly excellent although you could say the same about the best half-dozen stations back home. And in terms of production values and news good old LSRfm leaves UGA standing. I look forward to listening to a bit more though, before a gig to round the evening off.

I Don't Give A Damn

2004-11-08T21:02:00.000Z

Atlanta

I went to visit the former home of Margaret Mitchell today. Up on Peachtree Street at Tenth, it's the place where she wrote "Gone With The Wind" in the late 1920s and early 30s. The building fell into disrepair over the years before Mercedes-Benz bought it in 1994 and spent $5 million restoring it and turning the place into a hospitality centre for the Olympics. Unluckily for them an arsonist started a fire that gutted it just two months before the Games started so they didn't get any of their money back. I imagine they weren't best pleased.

The building's been restored again although there's not much to see inside apart from some fascinating letters sent by Mitchell and her husband around the time of the book's publication in 1936 and after. The novel certainly seemed to start a huge media circus, although given that it still sells a quarter of a million copies a year it's probably not surprising to learn it was stratospherically popular then. Interestingly the couple were lukewarm at best about the film, managing only to say they "liked" it and making various criticisms of how it portrayed the characters. Perhaps it was the huge royalty cheques that persuaded them to keep their mouths shut in public.

Across The Lines

2004-11-07T21:23:00.000Z

Atlanta

I got the overnight bus up from New Orelans and after a reviving diner breakfast and morning nap I headed down to the Sweet Auburn district. My guidebook tells me a century ago it was the "beating heart of black America" and was still a middle class neighbourhood when Martin Luther King was born there in 1929. These days there's no sign of any of that, it's a depressingly dilapidated hovel full of tramps and boarded up shops. The only part of the area with any real activity this afternoon was the church opposite the memorial to Dr King, dozens of people wearing their Sunday Best were coming out as I walked by which tells you something about where the power still lies in areas like this.

The memorial itself is a simple crypt in the middle of a pool with an eternal flame nearby. During the time I spent in the neighbourhood I didn't see any other white people. It appears the dreams King spoke of so eloquently in the 1960s are as far away from becoming reality as they were then.

A Late One

2004-11-06T18:59:00.000Z

New Orleans

Some British guys went down the local off licence and came back with a huge jug of red wine for $7 so that was the early part of last night taken care of. An American listening to us talk said it was just like being sat around with the Beatles. I'm not entirely sure what she meant by that but I decided I'd make it clear I'd rather not be Ringo, just to be on the safe side.

We were already well drunk by the time we ventured out to Bourbon Street, which certainly helps. All the bars seemed to have cheesy covers bands in residence but we checked a couple out anyway. The time fairly raced on and before long it was 3am back at the hostel and we were setting up for some more poker. My losing streak sadly continued and the sun was coming through the trees by the time I got to bed.

Poker

2004-11-05T23:40:00.000Z

New Orleans

I stayed around the hostel last night and ended up playing some poker. At only $3 in a few rounds of Texas seemed like a good way to spend the evening and for a while I was well up with a dizzying stack of Monopoly $500 notes in my corner. But the cans of cheap Red Dog beer I was slowly putting away ended up eroding my judgement just enough to force me into second place. But it was still good value entertainment for three hours.

I've also taken in two museums over the last couple of days. Yesterday I went to the Civil War museum in the very grand Memorial Hall. It was small but had plenty crammed in and managed to tell the story without too much misty-eyed guff about the Confederacy. The curator told me the impressive nearby statue of Robert Lee was made by an Aberdonian stonemason, more proof the Scots get bloody everywhere, almost as much as the Irish.

The National D-Day museum is also here in New Orleans, a piece of planning only matched for its strangeness by the siting of the Film and TV museum in Bradford. It's expensive to get in but there's lots to see, the many oral histories of the soldiers definitely the highlight. I spent so long in there they had to throw me out at closing time.

I've decided to stay here for an extra night, so I suppose I'd better go and make the most of it, starting off by tracking down what's left of my stash of Red Dog.

Nice

2004-11-04T23:40:00.000Z

New Orleans

There's a good crowd at the hostel I've found here and a bunch of us went out to the French Quarter last night to see some music. There's squally jazz blaring from every corner down there and we settled into a club on Frenchmen Street away from most of the madding crowd. On the way we stopped by one of the booze kiosks (unlike most American cities you can drink on the street here) and I ended up with one of those huge cups you get in fast food joints filled with a kind of slushie White Russian. It took ages to finish but the nice people in the bar let me drink it there as we enjoyed the jazz. The second band who came on obviously had quite a local following and suddenly the admittedly small place was full of people dancing away to the Afro-Cuban sounds. The drummer looked a bit like Danny Devito's dad but he kept everyone spellbound during a five minute solo. Great stuff.

Before bed a few of us hardy souls went to a nearby quiet bar for a few nightcaps. It had a fantastic jukebox and I ended up ploughing money into it. There was some Stevie Wonder, early Bruce Springsteen and even Whiskeytown's fantastic "Faithless Street" album. When people down here aren't eating, they're listening to music.

Some Final Thoughts

2004-11-03T17:21:00.000Z

Baton Rouge

After finally getting to bed I woke up to find John Kerry had called George Bush to concede the election, now the speeches are all that's left. Quite right too, an avalanche of futile lawsuits in Ohio would have done nobody any good.

You might wonder why a President can win a state like Ohio when tens of thousands of manufacturing jobs have been lost there over the last four years, a budget surplus has been turned into a huge deficit and there's an ever-more unpopular war continuing in Iraq. And this is what people in the rest of the world will have most trouble understanding. Most people who backed Bush didn't vote on the basis of the economy and jobs, or even on security and Iraq. Most people voted for him because of his stance on the so-called moral issues, like gay marriage. Gods, gays and guns, if you will. For John Kerry, being a decorated Vietnam veteran, experienced politician and more skilled debater wasn't enough. Too many people in the South and Midwest just didn't trust him on those 'hot button' issues. Presuming Bush carries New Mexico, it's possible for Kerry to leave Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland and fly all the way to San Diego without crossing a single state he's won. And that's why he lost.

The media were far too cautious last night. None of them wanted to declare Bush the victor, even when it had long since become obvious he was going to win. The two networks who called Ohio in his favour last night both refused to put Nevada in his column too, because that would have won Bush the election. As this was going on, the three who didn't call Ohio were quite happy to give Nevada to Bush, as long as they weren't the first to give him the whole election. White House staffers were apparently not best pleased at this, as in the absence of a concession from Kerry they were waiting for the media to declare Bush the winner so the President could go and make his victory speech. The media were waiting for Bush to give a speech so they could declare him the winner. As a result it all fizzled out last night, but I suppose the result isn't any different in the end.

The main problem for the media to address now is the reliability of exit polling. The secret data yesterday all pointed to a Kerry victory in Ohio, Florida and overall, and yet he ended up several million votes behind Bush and losing in both those states. Whether exit polls can ever be a credible tool in future elections is now highly debatable.

What's not debatable is that the people have spoken and Bush is still the President. Four more years.

They Think It's All Over

2004-11-03T07:44:00.000Z

Baton Rouge

For John Kerry the game is up. Over the last twelve hours or so he's gone from hot favourite to strong contender to a man facing defeat. A few moments ago his running mate John Edwards emerged onto the stage in Boston to say the campaign would make sure every vote is counted. That's just the problem, the votes are being counted and Bush has more of them than Kerry. Not a huge amount more, but the President looks like taking the popular vote by millions rather than thousands.

Two of the five major news networks here (Fox, who were first, and NBC) called the key state of Ohio for Bush a good couple of hours ago and have spent the time since waiting for another state to drop into the red column to win him the election. The networks on the whole have been far too circumspect as they try to avoid a Florida 2000-style error, looking at the numbers it's almost unbelievable CBS, ABC and CNN haven't called Ohio for Bush too. I know they're just covering their backs but in any other year they'd have made the decision by now. The stuff about provisional ballots and possible litigation is all whistling in the dark from the Kerry camp as far as I can see. Ohio is nothing like as close as Florida was and there's little anecdotal evidence of any problems in voting in that state.

It looks unlikely Kerry will concede tonight but if he insists on prolonging the race he's only going to end up looking a bit silly. Fair enough fight for every vote, but there is no chance of him becoming President now. It's best for everyone if things come to a full conclusion as soon as possible.

The Choice

2004-11-02T16:15:00.000Z

Baton Rouge

The campaign's finally over and already people across the country are putting crosses in boxes, or even punching chads. It's taken a long old time to get to this point.

The prominence of certain issues in this campaign has completely baffled me. One in particular. As Jay Leno said last night, "At long last, we can say the Vietnam War is over!" Whether the issue of what Bush and Kerry did or didn't do in the 1960s has any impact on how people vote is impossible to tell, but I doubt it. Even the now-infamous Swift Boat Veterans smear campaign against Kerry was more of a firestorm in the media than something that will genuinely affect today. The same goes for almost all the policies the two men have been promoting, they've both been preaching to the converted. I don't think the last few months has changed many people's minds, the difference between the candidates' popularity has barely been outside the margin of polling error since March. Apart from a handful of people who have gone from backing Nader in 2000 to Kerry this time out of anti-Bush spite, I've not met a single undecided voter or voter who has switched from four years ago. But then there really isn't as much difference between Bush and Kerry as they'd like us to believe.

Turnout will be higher this time. I must have been asked 20 or 30 times in various places if I'm registered to vote. But despite that the whole country hasn't been swept with election fever. The system means only a handful of states are in a position to really affect the outcome, so the two sides concentrate all their advertising in those places. When I was in Colorado (a close Senate race there has given Kerry hope of winning too) in a lot of commercial breaks every single advert was political. Every single one. There were posters everywhere. Down here in Louisiana where Bush is likely to win handily almost all the TV spots are for local races and I've not seen a single ad for Kerry. The two men don't bother going to all the states either. For example Kerry hasn't campaigned in Texas, although given some of the signs I saw there ("Time to Reload - Bush 2004!") I don't really blame him.

So who's going to win? Probably Bush, but only just. He's been consistently 1 or 2 points ahead in the polls in recent days and that goes up slightly when only 'likely' voters are counted. But even if Bush takes most of the popular vote Kerry could still win. Some polls yesterday put him edging in front in Florida and possibly even Ohio. Victory in those two states along with the other major battleground of Pennsylvania would almost certainly put Kerry into the White House. Even after two long years of this, it's still too close to call.

Home Thoughts From Abroad

2004-11-01T19:50:00.000Z

Baton Rouge

So Berti Vogts has finally resigned. It's a bit rich of him to blame the fans or the papers for his departure, the real reason he had to go was because the results haven't been nearly good enough. No matter how mediocre the players or how difficult the opponents, Scotland still ought to be at least competitive and too often in recent times we haven't been. Despite that I'm sorry to see him go. He was a man with impeccable credentials and the right ideas on how to structure the national setup. He just couldn't turn that into victories out on the park. Maybe he would have been better employed in a more hands-off technical director's role with a homegrown coach alongside, but that would never have been agreed to.

The field to replace him seems to consist of Walter Smith and Gordon Strachan, and either would be an excellent choice. But the SFA has a history of throwing curveballs and I wouldn't be surprised if a lesser known candidate such as Eric Black, who I suspect has been groomed to take the job throughout his coaching career, emerged to take the position. Either way, a resounding win over Sweden followed by three points in Italy and everything will look rosy again. Simple, eh?

Trick Or Treat

2004-11-01T16:04:00.000Z

Baton Rouge

It was Halloween yesterday and that's a huge deal over here. For the kids it seems like it's second only to Christmas and Kathy invited a few over to the house for a little barbecue before the serious trick or treating began. You're only allowed to go round the houses from 6 until 8 but then here it's more for younger kids than back home I think. Abby went dressed as a witch and overcame her usual shyness to trot up to the houses and ring the doorbells. Shyness doesn't apply when there are sweeties involved and soon everyone had more than they could carry. All a far cry from pennies and monkey nuts, that nonsense just doesn't cut the mustard over here.

Kathy's sister Kristi showed me a great thing to make at barbecues. Take a couple of digestive-type biscuits, then make a sandwich with a thin piece of chocolate and a sticky toasted marshmallow. A bit like an ice cream slider really. They taste far too good, you could do yourself a serious nasty with them.

You Cannot Be Serious

2004-10-30T18:06:00.000+01:00

Baton Rouge

We all went down to Ryan's all-you-can-eat steakhouse last night for some proper American fayre. Despite protesting in advance that I wasn't hungry, I managed to put away a plate of steak, a plate of fried chicken and one of fried shrimp followed by some apricot pie with cream and a bowl of sticky toffee pudding and ice cream. That certainly filled a hole. Even Abigail and Audrey gamely managed some corn and macaroni which they seemed to enjoy.

I haven't seen much TV on this trip so watching it last night was pretty interesting, if only because I saw what may be the worst show in history. It's John McEnroe's new talk show on the CNBC cable channel. It is appalling. Recently it recorded zero viewers and having watched it I don't find that at all surprising. As if the no-name guests aren't bad enough, his attempts at "satire" are truly toe-curling. At one point he interviewed someone pretending to be Satan, and also had a skit involving a man wearing a t-shirt with 'Patriot Act' written on it shooting a man wearing a similar 'Bill Of Rights' shirt. "The Patriot Act killed The Bill Of Rights!" It must have seemed funny in rehearsal.

Slow Progress

2004-10-29T18:26:00.000+01:00

Baton Rouge

On Wednesday evening I'd planned to take the overnight bus to New Orleans but when I got to the station I found it had been cancelled and there wasn't another one until midnight. So I headed back into Austin and took in another evening's music at the Saxon Pub.

Main attraction was an acoustic set by local resident Tony Scalzo of Fastball, an American college-rock act I've always had time for. These days the same can't be said of many Austin residents as there were scarcely more than ten people there including the guy who runs the place and Tony's mate who got up and played guitar with him. It was a fine little show though, some quality new songs mixed in with older ones. In perhaps the least surprising move since Don McLean decided to close a show with "American Pie" he finished with "The Way" - a major U.S. airplay hit from 1998 that even made the British Top 20. As a calling card on the world music stage it still sounds pretty great although I sadly doubt he and the band are going to get a second fifteen minutes in the limelight.

A band called The Johns came next and played a decent hour of rootsy blues-rock. I was more interested in the baseball by this point and sure enough the Red Sox took yet another victory to finally claim the World Series. The sound guy at the venue had a different reason for constantly abandoning his post however, he was popping outside to check out the lunar eclipse. When I finally left the bar the full moon was still mostly hidden, so maybe the mysterious energy it was giving off had something to do with the local bus driver who gave me dodgy information ("yeah there's definitely still another bus that goes up to the Greyhound station") that made me miss my 12 o' clock coach.

So I spent another three hours at a bus station by now becoming rather more familiar than I'd wanted it to be. The tramp-proof benches at those places make sleeping impossible so I opted to get a bus to Dallas, even though it's in completely the wrong direction, just so I could get some shut-eye. From there I went to Houston and then on to here, arriving yesterday evening at the lovely new house of Gavin, Kathy, Abigail and Audrey and settling down to a welcome proper night's sleep in the wee one's room. New Orleans can wait, I'm sure it'll still be there when I finally make it.

Almost Famous

2004-10-27T18:46:00.000+01:00

Austin

After an afternoon visit to the handsome new Texas State History Museum I went out on 6th Street again. I found a bar playing quality music and settled in to watch the end of the baseball, another win for the Red Sox putting them 3-0 up and one game away from taking the World Series and finally burying their curse. I can tell you're all fascinated by the prospect.

Listening to South by Southwest on 6 Music earlier in the year I heard Stuart Maconie talking about a place he'd been called Stubb's BBQ so I decided to go there. It's probably better known as a restaurant and home of the barbecue sauce but it's a cracking music venue too. There's a little amphitheatre out the back where the major touring acts play but last night the gig was in a smallish downstairs room. First up were Dios Malos, some Hispanic guys playing indie rock. They were decent but veered towards self-indulgence a couple of times too often.

Far better were What Made Milwaukee Famous whose CD I'd spotted in a record shop the other day. They've got a new track out with a video, definitely one of those acts on the verge of breaking through if only they can find the right single. Three of the four members had a go at singing lead, much in the manner of The Band or Gomez, but there the similarity to those acts ended. They had some great songs and were very accomplished, although with the success of Fountains Of Wayne I'm not sure there's room for another group of American white guys playing bittersweet indie-pop. More's the pity.

LBJ And AMC

2004-10-26T19:02:00.000+01:00

Austin

I went to the Lyndon Johnson Presidential library yesterday. There are solid exhibits on every period of his life and lots about all the legislation he pushed through in the 60s. Nothing about his many flaws though, which are well remembered in these parts. The guy who runs the hostel told me Johnson was so worried about dying in a car crash after a puncture he used to compulsively change his tyres all the time. He also used to drink whisky then drive around Texas late at night, which seems a strange thing for a man who fears car accidents to do, but then I suppose he was a very strange man.

I could have gone to see Badly Drawn Boy again last night and I was sorely tempted, but I decided the competing attraction of American Music Club would be a more judicious use of my time. I recruited a Kiwi from the hostel for a few pre-show drinks on 6th Street and we got to the Parish Room venue in time for the support act, The Court & Spark. From San Francisco, they had a very nice line in tuneful alt.country, helped no end by the excellent acoustics in the venue ("nationally famous" according to the barman). AMC were great as well, Mark Eitzel's quietly angry singing a particular strong point and enough to send the surprisingly sparse crowd home happy. I'm sure John Peel would have approved.

City Limits

2004-10-25T17:10:00.000+01:00

Austin

I got to the lakeshore hostel here without my jacket which I left on the bus and is now in Dallas, or possibly in the possession of a thieving Mexican. I'll find out which over the next day or so, at least it gives me something to do between gigs.

It's the self-styled live music capital of the world so last night I went to the Hole In The Wall, a well-known dive bar on the campus of the University of Texas. It may have been full of beer-loving students but the waitress was still somewhat taken aback when I ordered a pitcher of the local brew. "Is there someone joining you?" she asked. "No," I replied, "but I'm from Britain." That seemed to satisfy her.

First up were The Normans who started promisingly with some melodic rock but struggled as time went on against the rival interest of the closing stages of game 2 of the World Series (Boston lead St Louis 2-0). The three-piece Darling New Neighbors were a better bet although the singer, who played accordion, violin and bass with aplomb, had some serious 'Karen O' issues.

I got a taxi back and amazingly had a driver from Islington. I asked him about the reasonably high standard of the show I'd just seen and he told me the competition here among bands is so fierce it makes the basic level that much higher than elsewhere. None of them get paid either, apparently, they just play for tips. With the arguable exception of Alejandro Escovedo it's been more than a decade since a major act emerged from Austin which is surprising, although perhaps it's tougher for promising acts to stand out from the crowd here than in other American cities.

Remember The Alamo

2004-10-24T18:41:00.000+01:00

San Antonio

The main attraction here is The Alamo where 200 Texan defenders, including Davy Crockett, were slaughtered by the Mexicans in 1836. No matter Texas won its independence shortly afterwards, it's the big defeat that still gets all the attention. The site is free and there's plenty to see including a shrine to those who died which features flags representing every state and country the soldiers came from. Turns out hardly any of them were actually from Texas, in fact there were almost as many from Britain as from these parts. If there's a military embarrassment you can guarantee we'll be involved somewhere.

San Antonio is the ninth biggest city in America and the council's made a big effort down the years with some innovative civic planning. There's a walk downtown stretching around a two mile crook in the river with lots of cafes and bars, it's very touristy but pleasant. More pointlessly there's the Tower of the Americas, at 750 feet the tallest building in Texas and third highest free standing structure in North America (behind the CN Tower in Toronto, which it predates and closely resembles). It doesn't cost much to get up, but then there's not a whole lot to see from the top unless the big hotels and wide freeways that make up the downtown area are your idea of picturesque.

The sap from the pecan trees had turned the hostel pool green by the time I got back but I went for a swim anyway. Sadly it didn't make me glow in the dark.

The Lone Star State

2004-10-23T19:20:00.000+01:00

San Antonio

From Denver I got the bus down here to Texas. Late on Thursday night I reached Amarillo for a brief layover, much to my disappointment there was no sign of Tony Christie. Presumably he's still not found it.

The bus was pretty empty so I was able to get some sleep before reaching Dallas at dawn yesterday. After a reviving breakfast in the greasiest of greasy spoons for $3 I headed along to Dealey Plaza where John F Kennedy was shot back in 1963. The first thing to notice is that it looks just like it does on the telly. The familiar dark red former School Book Depository building overlooks the area and there's a very tasteful 'X' on the road where the fatal shot hit the President. I'll admit the Grassy Knoll is something of a let down, it's barely more than a small incline, but then I suppose that's not exactly surprising. I didn't see any snipers hiding behind the white fence, but maybe it was too early in the morning for them.

The Sixth Floor museum is great though very sycophantic in its historical judgement on Kennedy. At the window Oswald fired from they've reconstructed the stack of boxes as it was, although the best exhibits are the TV and radio broadcasts from the day. They've got the first garbled UPI wire report which I found fascinating, although most of the American visitors were too busy cooing over pictures of the extended Kennedy family.

The museum also has a temporary exhibition of all the Presidential campaign adverts ever made which I spent ages looking at. It's blindingly clear that whoever has had the best TV ads has always won the election. Not much beats the wonderful "Eisenhower Answers America" spots from 1952, with Ike in a white suit and bathed in ethereal light giving winningly brief answers to the problems of confused looking yokels. Kennedy had a series of decent if baffling ads in 1960, including one with Jackie speaking in Spanish and another with Harry Belafonte. Much better was Johnson in 1964, I saw the famous "Daisy Girl" ad which hinted none-too-subtly that his Republican opponent would lead America into nuclear war. Jimmy Carter hanging around his peanut farm in 1976 was another highlight but the prize for greatest campaign ever has got to be Reagan's "Morning in America" stuff from 1984. Everything in soft focus, lots of matey backslapping with Bush and people looking hopefully into the distance, marvellous and somewhat reminiscent of those Stalin-era Communist posters. It was pretty amusing watching the ads from 2000 again, the one where Bush says Gore's policies would "wipe out America's surplus" is particularly ironic. As for the worst campaign ever, the clear winner is Michael Dukakis from 1988, the ads were boring, weak and confusing. At least Kerry's avoiding most of the mistakes his old boss made.

No hostels in Dallas so I headed down here in the afternoon to get a bed and was very impressed to find myself staying in a hostel with a pool. Having come the length of the country on the bus to emerge into sticky Southern Texas a lengthy swim was the perfect way to spend the evening, followed by a huge and very cheap meal at the Mexican round the corner. As for today I've got shorts on again, so I'm off to take a look around the city.

In The Picture

2004-10-21T16:10:00.000+01:00

Denver

Went to the Colorado history museum yesterday and although the stuff about local history (mostly stories about duffing up Indian tribes in the mid 19th century) was interesting the highlight was a touring exhibit of all the Pulitzer Prize winning photos ever. I spent ages looking at them all, my favourite probably one taken in 1992 of Bill Clinton listening to a small boy while campaigning in New Hampshire. Interesting to see the photo taken in Sudan by Kevin Carter of a vulture stalking a malnourished child that won him his Pulitzer, shortly before he killed himself. Click click click himself under indeed.

The main shopping drag in Denver is nicely pedestrianised with only free buses allowed to run up and down. I went to a couple of bars in the area last night and watched the end of the baseball. And the Red Sox won again 10-3, the first team in baseball history to come back from 3 games behind to win a best of 7 series. So they've finally broken their curse against the Yankees and made it to the World Series. Last time they won Babe Ruth was still playing for them which gives you some idea of what a big deal it is here. It's all anyone's talking about.

Clash Of The Titans

2004-10-20T18:20:00.000+01:00

Denver

Over the last few days the whole country has been transfixed by a battle that will have a huge impact on everyone who lives here. Everyone's been talking about the massive contest between two bitter rivals. Yes, the New York Yankees have been playing the Boston Red Sox for a place in baseball's World Series. The Yankees, who have won the title 26 times since Boston's last success in 1918, took a 3-0 lead in the best of 7 series only for Boston to claw a couple back ahead of last night's game six.

I went to a bar called the Lion's Lair to see Hamell On Trial but he didn't bother starting his set until after the game, although his selections (Joe Strummer, the Smiths' "Hatful Of Hollow") played on the jukebox while everyone in the place watched the tense closing stages. And to huge cheers Boston pulled it out again so tonight's game seven is the decider. It's almost as if Bush and Kerry are talking to themselves, or at least only to each other.

The gig was great. I'd not heard any of his stuff before, I only recognised his name from his column in Uncut. There were only about 50 or so Denver hipsters there but at least that meant I could prop up the bar and sink a few beers. His stories between the songs alone are worth going to see him for and his 90 minute set was fine value for the $7 cover charge. It was chilly when I left so I decided to try to run back to the hostel. Predictably I managed about two blocks before giving up although at least I can blame it on the thin air.

Rocky Road

2004-10-19T23:47:00.000+01:00

Denver

A shade under 33 hours after my bus rolled out of Seattle the lights of Denver finally hoved into view in the fading Colorado light. It feels like I've been sitting in a never quite comfortable enough semi-upright position for a very long time indeed, but even though the journey took me through five states it still looks suspiciously short on the map.

Apart from the first couple of hours in Washington State - beautiful snow capped mountains in the mist to the south and east of Seattle - the scenery wasn't too much to get excited about. Admittedly I passed through all of Idaho in darkness so perhaps there's something dramatic there, but the highlight of the last few hours was realising that Colorado looks just like those old Roadrunner cartoons. You know, with those rocks and stuff.

I could probably have done with an Acme sleeping pill because there wasn't much likelihood of any kip last night. At one point I had a drunk tramp on my right singing various country songs (and at one point, bizarrely, Prince's "Purple Rain"), two bickering eight year old boys immediately behind me, a couple of annoying American teenage girls psychoanalysing each other in true "Dawson's Creek" style a bit further back, and then a huge fat man in front snoring loud enough to just about drown everything else out. I managed to read all of "Catch-22" during the trip which at least proved mildly diverting. I'm off to find some things to do in Denver when you're dead (tired).

Sent To Try Us

2004-10-17T19:23:00.000+01:00

Seattle

Last night was one of those nights where nothing went right. I ran into the two British guys I know and they asked if I'd like to join them at a frat party. They'd been to the college football game and had managed to get themselves invited to one. So of course I said yes and with images of kegs and Stifler's mom in our minds we went down the off licence to stock up on booze and got a taxi over there. Frat houses are big places and when we found the right one the guy who answered the door used the intercom to summon the right person. But he didn't come down, apparently he'd already passed out drunk. There didn't seem to be any kind of party going on so we decided to sack the whole thing off and head back to the hostel, bloody frat boys.

It was chucking it down with rain and the bus we got on didn't go near the hostel, just to the Space Needle. It did look pretty great lit up in the dark, the grim weather notwithstanding. Eventually we made it back and started on the hoard of booze we'd accumulated. An old bloke started speaking to us but I found it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying after the guys told me he was sleeping in their room and had woken them up the night before by wanking himself off very energetically, complete with groaning. After shaking off his attentions, I ended up getting very drunk again.

Try The Fish

2004-10-16T23:12:00.000+01:00

Seattle

I had too much of a strong local beer called Keystone Ice last night and I spent this morning staggering around like something out of the Keystone Cops. A huge cup of Seattle coffee just about cleared my throbbing headache and I was able to pull myself together enough to go to the big market round the corner. There's all sorts of overpriced stuff for tourists to buy but fish is the main reason to go. I had a great grilled halibut sandwich, nice and spicy with some lovely rosemary mayonnaise. A t-shirt in one of the shops had 'Seattle - a day without sunshine' written on it. That sums up the weather here quite well, I've got my jacket on for just about the first time since Siberia, but after all the heat I'm pretty glad of it. Think I might stay off the beer tonight though.

Where The Ragged People Go

2004-10-15T23:33:00.000+01:00

Seattle

The bus journey up here was pretty interesting. At the station in Portland I ran into a couple of British guys I met in San Francisco. After we got settled on the very crowded bus I looked around to see we were in the middle of a wide array of unusual characters. The huge fat guy beside me (I was forced to sit at 45 degrees, my legs sticking into the aisle) didn't talk much, in fact he didn't talk at all, but my neighbour on the other side more than made up for it. Bob was a very talkative fellow, or at least I think he was because his lips were moving, I could really only make out about every fifth word. An ex-con currently on probation after a drink driving conviction with only a few teeth left and a mangled hand as a result of a "farming accident" he had plenty to stay on a wide variety of subjects, but mostly Vietnam and beer. He'd been talking about "Nam" and "Charlie" for a good ten minutes before I realised he hadn't actually been there. He buggered off to Canada in the early 70s to dodge the draft, clever sod. His brother did fight though, and I found out in great detail about the exact nature of his injuries after he got hit by a mortar. To try to get the conversation off such grim topics I told him a dirty joke, which he found so funny he laughed all the way to his stop.

Taking his seat was another broken-down looking guy, obviously fresh out of hospital with bandages and plasters all over him. He explained he worked as a collector of names for petitions and had recently been to several states getting both Ralph Nader (Green) and the Libertarian candidate on the ballot for polling day. Now those two parties have somewhat differing views on a lot of things but this guy didn't seem to be motivated by any great political desire. Instead of discussing policy, he went into great detail about all the cash and expenses he'd managed to get for doing this work. Then things turned very downbeat as he said his girlfriend had left him last night taking the car and all the money. Although this didn't explain why he had a series of nasty looking cuts, despite my curiosity I thought it best not to press the point.

Here in Seattle it's cold, or at least cold compared with the last few days, I'm sure it's still warmer here than in the UK. Maybe I should go and get a coffee to warm up.

Coming Up Roses

2004-10-14T23:23:00.000+01:00

Portland

My brief flirtation with homosexuality last night notwithstanding, I'm not really into flowers. But Portland is the City of Roses so I decided to head up the hill to the Washington Park and take a look round the rose garden. It was certainly pretty and the whole area was very calm on another lovely Autumn day. American civic leaders sure do love their parks, even if many of the citizens seem completely unaware of their existence.

Walking through town later I spotted a cinema which to my surprise was showing "Shaun Of The Dead." The British film industry is one of the sacred cows of society that people still talk about with reverence even though it produces about one film a year worth watching (the other hundred or so are usually 'gritty' dramas set among illegal immigrants fighting the police and battling yeast infections while living in an inner London launderette). This year "Shaun Of The Dead" was that watchable film and it's doing well over here too, reaching a remarkable number six in the box office chart despite a limited release. I thought it was just as good the second time as the first, the straps during the Sky News insert probably the highlight. How about that for a slice of fried gold?

Kerry Edges In Front

2004-10-14T07:06:00.000+01:00

Portland

I watched the debate in a place called the Crystal Ballroom here in Portland, surrounded by a lagered-up crowd of lefty students. The atmosphere was predictably tribal with much of what Bush said greeted with laughter and occasionally some cheers for Kerry's speeches. And Kerry was good tonight, much better than he's been before and better than Bush, this evening at least. For the first time in the campaign he was able to both look statesmanlike and convey his points in a concise and understandable style. Bush's handlers got tonight dead wrong, far too often they focused on Kerry's record in the Senate (who really cares if he 'voted against' something 227 times, or whatever, it means nothing) instead of efficiently countering Kerry's arguments. Even the area where Bush scored strongest last week - Kerry's 'tax and spend' healthcare plan - was more difficult to call tonight. It may not be enough to swing the election in his favour, but if Kerry wins on November 2 it will be because of his generally fine performance in the three debates.

I met a couple of very festive gentlemen during the debate. After a few drinks we decided to escape the boringly preditable liberal rhetoric of the speakers at the rally we'd unwittingly stumbled into and decamped to a nearby bar. After a little longer I realised Edd and David (and especially David) had rather more on their minds than just political conversation. When David moved round the table and started to swing my chair with his hand, then touched my arm, I realised it was probably time to settle up my share of the bill and leg it. Throwing some dollar bills down on the table I ran up the stairs and out of the bar, leaving the pair of them looking somewhat put out. At least it proves I've still got it.

On The Buses

2004-10-13T22:15:00.000+01:00

Portland

It's becoming clear to me that where you sit yourself on a Greyhound bus is all important. You can decide to go up the back where there's more chance of a double seat to yourself, but also more chance of being surrounded by mentally unstable ex-cons who spend the journey eating and either shouting or mumbling to themselves, presumably depending on how long they'd been inside. The front is usually busier and there's the added risk of ending up next to a Hispanic family featuring one screaming baby, two toddlers and at least one comatose and dribbling great grandparent. Last night I copped out and went for the middle of the bus where I was surrounded by fat middle-aged women. It wasn't too bad, although the one next to me had an annoying habit of reading her book out loud to herself. When some people got off at one of the stops I politely suggested she move down to a newly-free double seat, which was a better solution for both of us.

The biggest city in Oregon is a very pleasant place. It's low-key, lots of flowers, bridges and galleries. The people seem to be quiet and studious, most of them spend a lot of time whispering quietly to each other over a pile of books in one of the thousands of coffee shops. I'm sure it'll be a fine place to spend a couple of days.

I see the news from Chisinau is predictably depressing. One-all against that lot is even worse than losing to Norway. For poor old Berti it's a case of 'they think it's Moldova, it is now.' Bring on Gordon Strachan.

Parklife

2004-10-12T16:49:00.000+01:00

San Francisco

I took a proper look round Golden Gate park yesterday. Or at least as proper a look as you can manage in a day, it would take far longer to get round every corner of the place. The Columbus Day holiday here meant the park was full of people having picnics and making use of the tennis, golf and other sporting facilities. Most popular activity of all though is jogging. Sitting down with my magazine and book for a few hours I saw the same people go round and round and round, most of them quietly singing along to whatever was on their iPods (other MP3 players are available). Maybe they think that because they can't hear themselves nobody else can hear them either. After years of being content with simply looking ridiculous, joggers now sound it too.

I'm leaving this fine city later and heading north on the overnight bus to Portland. 15 hours struggling to sleep in the company of recently released ex-convicts and screaming children, it really is the only way to travel.

Once Around The Block

2004-10-11T18:28:00.000+01:00

San Francisco

Last night was a great show, one of the best gigs I've seen. The first big reason was the venue itself. The Fillmore has a great intimate atmosphere considering the capacity is more than 1,100. Standing in the crowd eating your traditional free apple (a Mackintosh red too, lovely) you could almost be at the tiny Bush Hall back in London.

The support was Ray Lamontagne. I notice from looking him up that he's recently had a string of fawning reviews in the British music press. Admittedly, I could probably release an album of burping mixed with white noise and get a string of fawning reviews in the British music press, but in this case the hype is justified. If he sounds like anyone I suppose it's a gravel-voiced version of Ryan Adams, and Ethan Johns who produced Ryan's best stuff does the same for this guy and played drums during the set. The crowd gave him a tremendous ovation after every song and the applause at the end of his half-hour was so great he came back and did another. It's the first time I've ever seen a support act get an encore, I think it's safe to say we're seeing the arrival of a major new star. We'll all have his album in six months.

During the afternoon before the gig I went to Amoeba Records and shamelessly abused their hospitality by listening to Badly Drawn Boy's new album in full. It was just as well I did as the first part of his set consisted of playing it through in sequence. Like the record, this meant there were a few great songs near the start and it tailed off a bit towards the end. Best bit was "This Is That New Song" which he dedicated to Elliott Smith by saying he thinks "foul play" was to blame for the singer's fatal stabbing, a suggestion that got a big cheer from the crowd.

After a short break he did one and a half hours of the hits. Or at least the well known songs from earlier albums, "hits" probably not being the right word. Having a cellist and violinist in the band really filled out the sound and the opening of the second set with "The Shining" followed by "A Minor Incident" was probably the highlight of the evening with both songs played beautifully. The whole band was looking pretty relaxed and his decision to make the second half "like Bob Dylan's Rolling Thunder revue, only without Bob, or any of those other guys" led to a bunch of songs played after requests from the crowd, including a keyboard-based "You Were Right" with Joe Strummer added to the list of dead singers.

Badly Drawn Boy used to have a reputation as a woefully inconsistent live performer, but last night the show was tight to the very last. After nearly three hours the lights finally came on and everybody had to go, which was a shame because I think everybody could quite happily have stood through another three hours. My legs are killing me today though.

Modern Art Is Rubbish

2004-10-10T22:48:00.000+01:00

San Francisco

It's another beautiful day and I spent a happy hour this morning in the sunshine reading the San Francisco Chronicle. It's much like another decent American paper, only with an added sprinkling of stuff about homosexuality and/or the 1960s. Feeling suitably liberal and hip I decided to take in the local Museum of Modern Art. The paintings in there weren't able to shift me from my long-held view that most art of that ilk isn't very good. Thankfully 'SFMoMA' (as it chooses to style itself, as if just being a modern art museum isn't pretentious enough) has a wide range of more interesting stuff including lots of excellent American photography, various bits of design and a great selection of Polish film posters. Tonight I'm going to check out some performance art that's more my thing as Badly Drawn Boy plays the legendary Fillmore, or 'FLMoR' as it's probably soon about to rebrand itself.

A Brisk Constitutional

2004-10-09T23:53:00.000+01:00

San Francisco

Plunged into despair this morning by the twin evils of a hangover and Scotland's abject capitulation at home to Norway, I decided to get out into the fresh air as soon as I could. It's great to be back at the seaside although the Fisherman's Wharf area where I walked first is a major tourist trap. Lots of already fat Americans tucking in to overpriced plates of clam chowder while admiring their new "I Escaped From Alcatraz" XXXL t-shirts.

Much better is the grassy area on the front towards the Golden Gate bridge. As I walked through the park a parade of military boats began in the bay. One of them was enormous, and the flotilla was followed by a fine air display. Apparently it's Fleet Week which means less than nothing to me although it does lead to lots of guys in sailor suits loitering outside the strip clubs that are dotted around the city.

The bridge is stunning. The orangey-red colour reminded me of the Forth rail bridge, although the bright sunshine makes this version look more appealing. As you walk along there are a series of phones which I imagined were for use in case your car breaks down, until I read the signs which say they're for contacting a counselling helpline, just in case you feel like jumping to your death. I decided I'd rather walk back to ground level.

Round Two

2004-10-09T09:16:00.000+01:00

San Francisco

So I suppose I'd better give my thoughts on tonight's debate. I watched it in the international ballroom at the hostel, apparently the largest common room at any hostel in the world. Given that the crowd were surely all pro-Kerry or Nader I was surprised at the fair hearing everyone gave Bush. The whole group of people just sat and quietly listened to everything both candidates had to say,

My immediate opinion is the debate was fairly even. Kerry dominated much of the early exchanges and I felt when he was talking about America's poor standing in the world he left Bush with no answer. But then inexplicably he allowed Bush to come back on domestic issues. Honestly - domestic issues! Just imagine it, even I could out argue that Texan fool on his astonishingly rubbish healthcare policy, yet Kerry was too busy banging on about tort reform or somesuch to make his advantage tell. In the end it was a score draw, but only because Kerry was incompetent and Bush a bit on the lucky side. The polls say it's even but that only means Bush is still just in the driving seat. The third debate will be solely on domestic policy which ought to be Kerry's strong suit but, it seems, will merely play into the hands of Bush. Had he been more impressive tonight I was ready to say Kerry was at long, long last in a position to take the election. But as I see it unless something changes there's still only going to be one winner.

City Streets, City Lights

2004-10-08T23:18:00.000+01:00

San Francisco

Spent the day walking around the town. Unlike most American cities it's actually possible to do that here, although the hills are a bitch. Went down to the Haight area this morning and sat in Golden Gate Park. The 1967 Summer Of Love had its genesis here and you can still detect a glimmer of the old hippie dream in the right-on organic cafes and studenty shops. Indeed, I half expected to see Scott McKenzie, or maybe some former members of the Grateful Dead going by in a drug-induced haze.

The best reason to visit these days is to check out Ameoba Records. There are three of these shops on the West Coast (I also spent ages in the one in Hollywood) and they are easily the best music stores I've ever been to. I was strong enough to resist burning money on frivolous CD purchases and instead spent a very long time on the remarkable listening posts. You can take in thousands of different albums on them although I doubt too many locals will follow my example of calling up JJ72 and Roddy Frame from the vast database.

This afternoon I went to a great San Francisco institution, the City Lights bookstore. Back in the 50s it was where Kerouac and his beat friends held court and although they're all long gone it's still a great place to find a quiet corner and read some books you have no intention of buying. I'm sure it's what Jack would have wanted.

The Late Shift

2004-10-07T04:39:00.000+01:00

Los Angeles

I had a pretty decent seat for Jay Leno once I finally made it through the extra security, right on the edge next to the band. It's a very slick operation all round. He comes out about fifteen minutes before the recording starts and says a few words, then a warm up guy whips the already overexcited crowd up by throwing some t-shirts about and organising various other audience activities. Before long the music starts and the most famous quiff in world television appears again to start the show.

Leno's opening monologue is still consistently pretty good and it was interesting to watch him do it up close. His script isn't on an autocue like most TV stand up comics, instead he reads from big idiot boards with his material written largely verbatim in black felt tip pen. The crowd don't need much persuading to cheer but they do have some of those 'applause' signs dotted around the set that light up at appropriate moments to encourage the slow on the uptake.

Laura Bush was fairly dull, she had one or two good lines but they'd clearly been drummed into her by some campaign lackey. Leno's often criticised for his sycophantic interviewing style and, when his second question was "is that a new hairstyle?" it seemed unlikely Iraq was going to get much of an airing during the discussion. Indeed, neither of them mentioned it at all. Just about every Republican in the state had been shoehorned into the audience too, surely no coincidence it's the first and only time I've seen any "Bush/Cheney" t-shirts so far. Making up for this was the undoubted highlight of the interview, when a spotlight focused on a seat a few across from me to reveal none other than the lovely Jenna Bush. I had some difficulty focusing on the rest of the show (the other guests were those guys who flew that plane into space last week) for sneaking glances at her magnificent breasts. It was hard being in the same row as the President's daughter. Yes, it really was.

On the way back to the hostel I stopped by a nearby theatre to take in ABC's rival chat show, Jimmy Kimmel Live. The network still puts Nightline up against Leno and Letterman so poor old Jimmy doesn't go out until midnight and his show is consequently third best in terms of guests. If Leno is the Rolls Royce of talk shows, Kimmel may well be the cheap and slightly battered Ford Escort. Having said that, his monologue had some very funny stuff although he tended to mumble a bit which cost him a couple of big laughs. I had no idea who any of the guests were, although the announcer on the show is, randomly enough, the guy from The Mighty Mighty Bosstones. Kimmel wasn't a bad hour's entertainment but, especially given his network's recent attempt to woo Letterman, his career may well have peaked. For sheer professionalism, Leno still gets my vote.

On The Strip

2004-10-06T16:56:00.000+01:00

Los Angeles

Did the quintessential American night out yesterday. On Rowan's recommendation I broke my self-imposed fast food ban and checked out an In-N-Out Burger joint. Their slogan is "Quality you can taste" and they're not wrong, their gimmick of never freezing or microwaving anything makes for a fine tasting burger. Their chips are even fried with the skins on. The curse of the free refill struck me down, I just had to go for that second cup of Coke even though I was truly forcing it in by the end. At least I had plenty of time to drink it, because everything's cooked to order even a burger and chips takes more than five minutes.

After that I headed down to Sunset Strip to take a look around. The billboards are huge and the lights are bright. Feeling like another gig I tried the Roxy although Cake had sadly sold the place out. I settled for the Whisky A Go Go instead. This once important venue has sold out a bit I think, or at least that's the impression I got from the "If you stage dive you go home" sign beside the stage. The music was a lot more stately than at the Troubador as well, the first band on looked and sounded like Counting Crows' older brothers.

Things picked up with the Bloody Lovelies, a piano based three piece. I was going to write them off as only mediocre, but after they'd finished their set and I was at the bar about to get a drink a girl walked up beside me and asked if I wanted a beer. When I gave the obvious answer, she led me over to where a group of people were standing and handed me a Miller. Turns out they were all "with the band" and they were trying to dish out what remained of the rider. She had one more beer left and after I hinted I'd like that one too, she said she'd go and put it on the bar for me, assuring me it'd still be there when I'd finished my current one. It's obviously a British/American thing, but a pint standing untouched on a bar in the UK would be there for about 6 and a half seconds before some scally came along and swiped it. So, insisting I was more than capable of holding two beers at the same time, I went and claimed it. Because they were so nice in giving me free booze, I agreed to go on their mailing list and I can now heartily recommend the Bloody Lovelies as an excellent band, surely set for huge international success.

Jetlag meant I didn't get much sleep after getting back, waking up in the early hours I couldn't drop back off so I got up at dawn and bussed it up to NBC to get a ticket for this afternoon's taping of The Tonight Show. The First Lady is among the guests, so keep an eye out for me gurning away in the audience during her interview.

I'm With The Band

2004-10-05T23:52:00.000+01:00

Los Angeles

I went to a gig at the Troubador last night. It was local band night at the famous old place which meant not only was it easy enough to turn up and get in but happily there wasn't a cover charge. It's a great little venue, like a scaled down version of the old Leeds T&C but with a decent sized stage so there was plenty opportunity for the bands to indulge in various crowd pleasing antics. The place was full of young looking guys wearing black hoodies and my Doves t-shirt attracted a fair bit of attention although no smart comments. Perhaps they all clocked me for being genuinely British and decided to let me off being a bed-wetting indie nerd, seeing as I wasn't pretending to be British like most American indie fans.

The crowd had all come to see Saosin who were actually on third out of five bands, possibly so their fans could be home in time for bed. They were in the vein of Taking Back Sunday and played pretty loud, although I decided to have a beer instead of buying a pair of earplugs. From where I was loitering at the back I got a good view of all the crowd surfing and stage diving. The done thing was to surf your way to the front, dance around on stage for a bit, then run and dive back onto the rest of the crowd. Dozens of people did this, and the very chilled out security guys didn't seem to mind, which certainly gave a bit of atmosphere to the show.

Almost everyone buggered off after their set, much to the annoyance of the next band Supermodel Suicide. The singer had some issues about this, and between every song launched into tirades of abuse against everyone who had left, everyone who was still there and emo music in general. They were a pretty generic sub-Hives kind of rock and roll act and, although their playing was as tight as their t-shirts, they weren't much to write home about. Before the last song he looked me in the eye then implored everyone to "get the fuck on stage and fucking dance, you fuckers" so I decided it would only be polite to join in and clambered up round the back of the band. To say my performance was half-hearted would be overestimating it somewhat, but then I've never been much of a dancer. Just as well that by then there were more people on stage than in the crowd.

Hollywood

2004-10-04T23:24:00.000+01:00

Los Angeles

I've finally arrived here after the reddest of red-eye flights across the Pacific. I didn't sleep much, possibly due to the shock of seeing on the in-flight Chinese entertainment news the new girl group Sirens described as being from "Britain's fashionable Newcastle." Someone from the North East tourist board has been earning their money.

I'm staying on Hollywood Boulevard and yes that's on the Walk of Fame. The star outside the front door of the hostel belongs to John Fogerty of Creedence Clearwater Revival which I suppose is surprisingly trendy. Off to take a look around despite being pretty tired. I'm planning to break on through the night in a gallant battle against jetlag.

Are You Being Served?

2004-10-03T08:21:00.000+01:00

Beijing

I've been using my last day here to blow all my Chinese cash and stock up with stuff I'm going to need in the weeks ahead. Shopping can be a baffling experience. I was wandering around a big sports shop earlier trying to buy some socks. Eventually I found some, although whether they get anywhere near to fitting me given the stature of most of the locals is another matter. I was looking for the place to pay without much success when a woman ran up and grabbed me by the shoulder. She shouted something in Chinese, wrote something on a form that she then gave to me, took the socks and pointed to a woman behind a desk. I went over to the desk, waited around politely for the woman to look vaguely in my direction, then handed her the bit of paper and my money. She in turn handed me some other bits of coloured paper that I took back to the first woman who still had my socks. She tore some of the paper the second woman had given me and finally gave me the socks along with a receipt. Such a simple purchase dragged out to ten minutes for no apparent reason. Talk about Communist job creation. And I only wanted to buy some socks.

Having come all the way from London overland I'm finally giving in and taking a plane to LA tomorrow morning. And get this - it'll still be tomorrow morning when I arrive! How thoughtful of the world to stop just for me.

Spitting

2004-10-02T10:07:00.000+01:00

Beijing

If there's one thing the Chinese love to do, it's spit. You can't go down a street here without someone nearby gobbing on the pavement. Walking around the Temple of Heaven earlier, the peaceful ambience of the gardens was regularly shattered by a local desperately trying to hack up enough phlegm to empty all over the grass. Yesterday I was walking down the street past a cafe when a man opened the door, spat on the street right in front of me, then shut the door again. It wouldn't surprise me if they make it an Olympic event for 2008, at least they'd be guaranteed a home win. I've never seen a nation with a bad habit to compare. I'm sure Bob Carolgees would like it here.

Just A Face In The Crowd

2004-10-01T13:25:00.000+01:00

Beijing

A stack of beers followed the duck down last night which meant I began Chinese National Day with a shocking hangover. The whole country is on holiday as the people celebrate 55 years of the People's Republic. Tiananmen Square is rammed, and given the size of the place that means there's an awful lot of people out. Pushing through the crowds earlier was quite an experience, my obvious height advantage giving me a great view of the masses. No tanks and a real paucity of giant placards this year but there were plenty of red flags on all the buildings and in everyone's hands. It all looks a bit sinister at first but the atmosphere is very relaxed, people have come from all over the country to fly kites and generally mill about looking happy. The level of national pride here is greater than in any other country I've visited, even America. Being just one foreigner in the midst of tens of thousands of Chinese makes you realise something very important about China: There are loads of people! Everywhere! Just incredible, I still can't get my head round it.

Mine's A Number 32

2004-09-30T10:43:00.000+01:00

Beijing

Eating Chinese food in China is interesting. Last night I went to a little place round the corner from the hostel. Thinking the dishes would be small I ordered a couple with some rice, forgetting that here the portions are often huge. The chicken with peanuts I had was a vast pyramid of food and tasted great too. A lot of it is considerably spicier here than the Chinese food you get at home, they just love whacking loads of chillies in stuff, but then I suppose you'd expect the lame British palate not to be up to that sort of thing. I hate leaving stuff on the plate but I can tell you getting through dinner last night was a monumental struggle and I barely got through any of the rice although that's not unusual for China. Most people just have a tiny bit with their meals for fear of diluting the great food. After washing all this down with a beer I slowly got up and was amazed to find it all came to just 25 yuan which is less than two quid. So next time you pop down Honest Harry Chan's you'll know you're getting properly ripped off.

I've not had any Peking Duck yet but I hope to remedy that tonight. It's been throwing it down all day which has at least cleared away some of the smog. Last night was the fullest moon of the year although I only know that because I read it in the paper. All the citizens of Beijing got to see was a very blurry faintly circular glow coming from the general direction of where the moon usually is. They're really going to need to sort it out by 2008.

An Afternoon With Roger

2004-09-29T08:33:00.000+01:00

Beijing

Last night was the mid-Autumn festival. A tenuous one I know, much like the mid-Autumn sales they used to have at MFI. Everyone's supposed to gather round eating special 'moon cakes' and looking at the full moon. The thick smog means you can't really see the moon at the best of times and yesterday was no exception, but the cakes were ok as long as you avoided ones with egg in the middle.

Made my first trip to Tiananmen Square today. It is enormous, although the pollution makes it difficult to see one end from the other so that may be a slight optical illusion. No sign of any demonstrators being crushed by tanks, or of any tanks at all really. Chairman Mao's huge memorial hall dominates one part of the square. It's much bigger than Lenin's although his body is naturally much smaller. His face has a very suspicious luminous green glow that seems to come from within his brain. Presumably that's what too many moon cakes does to you.

Checked out the Forbidden City this afternoon and I was delighted to discover the voice on the audio tour guide is none other than Roger Moore. The pictures of him around the ticket office seem to date from the 1970s and his voice over sometimes slips into full on James Bond mode. He can't resist a 007-style smirk when he's talking about the harem the various emperors used, and how one died after apparently "over indulging" in one of the 27 beds. The palace itself is certainly grand with all its buildings but it's not absolutely stunning, no matter how much Roger tries to convince you otherwise.

Let Them Eat Snake

2004-09-28T09:39:00.000+01:00

Beijing

A few of us went out in the centre of town last night and found a long strip of stalls selling all sorts of fried food. The little menus were translated into English and the people running the stands were doing their best to entice us to buy stuff. One guy held up a snake on a stick and went "ssssssss!" while waving it at us. Obviously I couldn't refuse such a tempting invitation so he stuck it on the fryer put some seasoning on it and gave it to me. It was just the snake skin and was so covered with different spices they were just about all I could taste, but the slimy texture was just as you'd imagine. A bit better was the fried scorpion I got at another stall. In fact they fitted three little ones on a stick and they were very crispy and actually not bad. The legs and tails just tasted of batter but the body was definitely fishy. Even I drew the line at the doubtless delicious "goat cock with testicle" though. I think I made the right decision.

Went along to the Sky News bureau today. It's considerably nicer than the one in Moscow and because not much was happening I was able to have a good chat to everyone there. Correspondent Dominic Waghorn took me out for a long and very civilised lunch which I managed to get through only swallowing one very spicy chilli by accident. My chopsticks technique still needs quite a bit of work though, in the end I gave in and used a fork.

Not sure about what to do tonight although I've discovered there's a brothel underneath my hostel. Thankfully it's probably beyond my budget, but watching Chinese dolly birds taking drunk Western businessmen down there is entertainment enough for a few hours.

The Wall

2004-09-27T11:17:00.000+01:00

Beijing

A few of us from the hostel took a trip a couple of hours north to see the Great Wall today. And it really is a great wall. The stretch we visited was pretty much free of tourists so there were plenty of quiet spots to admire the spectacle. Eschewing the cable car we decided to walk up the hill and even for someone as unfit as me it only took twenty minutes or so to get up the thousand steps. Lots of dodgily translated Chinese warning signs ("no push, no run, no horse play!") kept us amused on the way up, then we spent hours walking slowly along and looking at the amazing views. I'd still be there now if our minibus driver hadn't told us we had to set off for the city again at two to beat the awful rush hour traffic.

The route the wall takes is what surprised me. It snakes around at high altitude, up and down steep slopes and usually over the top of the mountains. Why couldn't they just build it on a flat bit? Surely that would have been much easier? The way it was built is certainly dramatic and I'm sure the advancing Mongols were impressed by the sight, but it didn't stop them marching over and through China. But although it was useless for the purpose it was actually built for and you can't see it from space after all, it still looked pretty good seeing it for real.

The Future Is Here Now

2004-09-26T08:04:00.000+01:00

Beijing

Christ, what a place! A few of us went out drinking last night and I continue to be amazed by how modern and built up everything is. It may well be the most modern city I've ever visited. Everyone seems to be very rich as if all the poor people have been exterminated or locked up, which admittedly may not be too far from the truth. There's been conjecture for years about when China will emerge as a major superpower to rival or surpass the U.S. - well, while everyone's been looking in the other direction that day has just about arrived. Preparations for the Olympics are already stunningly advanced. Passing the Workers' Stadium (where Wham! played in the eighties) I spotted the signs and logos already up for 2008. They could probably host it tomorrow, let alone in four years.

The mark ups in some of the bars reflect the cash swilling about the city. You can easily get a beer for 15p in a shop that will cost you ten times that if you get it in a pub. In one such place I ran in to a guy I met a month ago in St Petersburg, which proves that even in a country of 1.2 billion people it's still a small world.

Welcome To China

2004-09-25T09:39:00.000+01:00

Beijing

It's 31 and a half hours here from Ulan Bator on the train, quite a few of which were spent fannying around at the border. The first station into China was oddly playing very grand music over the loudspeaker and was decked out in heaps of bright red fairy lights. I would have got out to ask if I there were any dodgems or a helter skelter, but the stern looking soldiers patrolling up and down outside put me right off. A few yards further on and the train went straight into a shed. Now, stop me if this gets a bit too trainspottery, but the old Soviet Union and Mongolia use a different gauge to the rest of the world, so when you cross the border the train has to get lifted up so the bogies can be narrowed. This job was done by a far-too-large Communist workforce of men with baskets on their heads, although none of them seemed to be doing too much apart from arbitrarily pressing buttons and walking up and down. Eventually they decided to let us into the country which was a relief, I didn't much fancy spending the rest of my holiday stuck in the Gobi Desert.

Beijing is much more built up than I expected it to be. There are a lot of huge buildings in the centre, hotels, banks and the like. I suspect the difference between those with money and those many more people without is very wide here. But in the city centre at least there's no sign of the poverty, just big cars and lots of cash.

Bloody Germans

2004-09-23T10:32:00.000+01:00

Ulan Bator

The Germans in the hostel are really getting on my nerves. They sit around all day, moaning about how ill they are, whingeing about how they just simply can't go to Thailand or Vietnam anymore because there are too many tourists, and debating which pirated DVD they want to watch. Only to complain even more when it skips halfway through and they miss 20 minutes of the movie. Last night when I came in one of them had produced some kind of musical instrument and they were all sat round singing some mind-numbingly awful German songs. For ages.

They have the nerve to moan about the buildings here as well. Admittedly this city looks rubbish, but that's hardly the point, it's pretty lively and there's lots going on and lots to do. And besides, I sense a certain pot/kettle situation undermining their constant whingeing. I've been to Germany, and all the cities there look like Middlesbrough. On a bad day. In the rain. And without anything so interesting as that swivel bridge thing. I really can't understand why they've come all this way just to act like this, surely they can just sit around and moan in Baden Baden or wherever it is they're from. And at least then they wouldn't be annoying me.

The German series of Survivor was filmed at Lake Baikal and so there were loads of them in Irkutsk too, taking up all the hotel space and generally flouncing round town, Teutonic arrogance flowing from every pore. Up to now Australians have easily been top of my most-hated travellers list, but now our German friends have quite literally barged in front of them. It's enough to drive a man to (cheap) drink.

Get Your Hair Cut

2004-09-22T08:57:00.000+01:00

Ulan Bator

Yesterday and today I went to the National History Museum and then the Natural History Museum. I found the former more interesting, I never realised the Mongol Empire stretched quite that far. The highlight was a photocopy of a letter from the Khan to the Pope informing him he was now a Mongol subject. The arrogance of it! I certainly wouldn't have messed with them.

Got my hair cut this afternoon, the first time I've paid for one in about ten years. I'd like to say that in the confusion I ended up with it dyed bright red or in several ponytails, but the guy just gave me a plain old short back and sides. A very attractive young Mongolian girl signalled whether I wanted it washed and I let her, if only because that's as close to a sexual thrill as I'm going to get on this holiday. She managed to get water all over one side of me but I didn't mind too much. Maybe I'll go back again tomorrow.

Bargain

2004-09-21T08:18:00.000+01:00

Ulan Bator

Saw the first evidence of the great man last night as I went for a pint of Genghis beer in the Genghis jazz club. After that moved on to a restaurant where I got a bowl of soup (mutton, naturally) a plate of steak with onions, potatoes and veg and another beer all for five dollars. That's less than three pounds. Feeling very satisfied I went back to my perfectly good two-quid-a-night hostel (breakfast included) and tried to work out how long I could make my budget last by staying here. I've probably got enough just to hang around indefinitely, although given my inability to ride, hunt or milk anything I don't think I'd be an attractive proposition on the labour market.

Anyone Want A Shower?

2004-09-20T05:09:00.000+01:00

Ulan Bator

The train down here was full of Mongolians bringing all sorts of stuff over the border. There were boxes of cigarettes and various bits of hardware easier to come by in Russia, but the big surprise was when a guy started rooting around in the space over the corridor and brought out dozens and dozens of shower heads. If you ever feel like setting up a business it's clear exporting bathroom equipment to Mongolia is a pretty good bet.

Just went to see the palace of the last Mongolian King which looks much as it did when he died in 1924. Like the rest of this city seems to be it's a bit scruffy round the edges, not very touristy and quite charming. I've seen more than a few grand things in the last few weeks but even I was impressed by the silk embroidered artwork. The King's own fireproof gold jacket was best of all though, I only wonder how he made the discovery that it wouldn't burn.

I think I'm going to like it here, although there's still no sign of Genghis. Where can he be?

Meat And Potatoes

2004-09-19T04:06:00.000+01:00

Ulan Ude

To celebrate Rayne's birthday (21 again, eh?) and my last night in Russia I decided to treat myself to a meal in a restaurant. I went to one of the better hotels in town (ie. not the one I stayed at), pushed through all the teenagers waiting for the disco to start and sat down at a table. The menu was all in Cyrillic so I just picked a couple of things at random reasoning that whatever I chose it was likely to feature meat and potatoes. Sure enough I got meat and noodle soup followed by pork and potatoes. Russian food gets slagged off and it certainly isn't fancy but I've found it to be very solid and hearty. I think I'll take to eating borscht when I get back home.

Ulan Ude has the world's largest sculpted head. It's of Lenin and dominates the main square in a very sinister way. You never go far in Russia without being reminded of Lenin - every city's main street is named after him and there are statues all over the place. No mention whatsoever of Stalin though, he's been airbrushed out. But then he did kill tens of millions of people so I suppose it's hardly surprising.

And so four weeks after crossing the border at dead of night from Latvia I'm going to leave at dead of night into Mongolia. I've enjoyed it, found the places to be fascinating and the people friendly. It won't be the last visit I make to this great country. But for now next stop is Ulan Bator.

Hey Hey We're The Monks

2004-09-18T10:16:00.000+01:00

Ulan Ude

Met another friendly local on the train last night. The two of us had a compartment to ourselves and he was very keen on trying out what little English he knew as well as, inevitably, sharing his stash of vodka and teaching me to drink it Mongolian-style, flicking it about to ward off evil spirits. It was really good stuff whatever it was although the measures he poured were on the generous side. I was able to fill my mouth with one of the drinks and there was still some left in the mug.

Not surprisingly we were getting on very well before long but I was still surprised at what happened this morning. He got me to watch the bags then came back after a while in a taxi and beckoned me to get in. We went through the city and got out at the bus station. Then he found a small bus and we both got in, me jammed in tightly with my backpack on my knees. Despite that I managed to get a great view out the window of the sun rising across the mountains and sparse plains as the bus sped at worrying speed away from town. After a while we got to where we were going and it turned out to be... a Buddhist monastery. But of course! Just what I had in mind for half past seven in the morning.

Actually it was a great place, the Ivolginsk Datsan, centre of Russian Buddhism. The Dalai Lama comes and hangs out there once in a while. Seeing my first monk was a funny experience, they're bald and in dark red robes, just like on telly. We looked around the site which was still empty at that time of the morning, walking clockwise around everything and doing stuff three times. Then he took me into the main building where among other remarkable, colourful sights and icons there was a mummy in a case with a flag hanging out the bottom. When we approached a monk appeared and pushed my head into the flag (three times, of course) which was a bit on a baffling side. It was very peaceful, a spell broken only slightly by the sight of one of the monks answering his mobile after his ringtone of Dido's "Thank You" had sounded round the room.

Then it started to fill with monks, all sitting around three long tables in the middle. I took a seat on a bench against the wall and watched as worshippers started to file in and sit all around me. One of the monks had a headset microphone and started to lead the chanting. Everyone joined in, sometimes the people around me stood up and sometimes they sat down again. Occasionally one of the monks banged a big gong thing and some others bashed cymbals before the chanting resumed. Everyone around me (I was the only westerner) kept on closing their eyes, leaning forward, praying. I have to admit was exhausted by this point and so when I copied them it was more out of tiredness than religious respect, but they weren't to know. After two hours of this and with no end in sight I finally gave up on the service, got the bus back here, found a hotel and crashed out for the afternoon. It was quite a trip though, not something I thought I'd see, and a privilege to do so.

Care In The Community

2004-09-17T07:34:00.000+01:00

Irkutsk

In hostels there's usually at least one random middle-aged or old guy sat around on his own and acting strangely. The place I've been staying in here is no exception, the only difference from most is that here he's not a German. Last night after some Russian computer geeks had persuaded me to end my temporary booze ban and try some of their local wheat beer, I went to bed at about half one expecting everyone in the room to be asleep. Not so. I found everyone asleep except this old man who had the light on, his portable TV blaring out Russian Pop Idol and some notebooks in front of him on which he was occasionally writing something and mumbling to himself. When I woke up this morning, he was still poring over those bits of paper and chuntering away. What does he think he's doing? Maybe he's a KGB spy.

I just checked out a museum about the Decembrists. They were a bunch of aristocrats sent into exile in these parts for a failed attempt to overthrow the Tsar in 1825. The wooden shack this family stayed in seemed pretty decent for around here although it wasn't a patch on their previous sumptuous lodgings in St Petersburg. It must have been terrible for them, poor things.

I'm off to Ulan Ude tonight, my eighth and last Russian city. I've got to make sure I'm in Mongolia by Monday because my visa here runs out on Tuesday. And as one local said to me yesterday, "in Russia, without papers, you are just an insect."

Up At The Lake

2004-09-16T10:02:00.000+01:00

Irkutsk

The sun's been shining since this morning so a perfect day to spend at Lake Baikal. Took the minibus down to the village of Listvyanka, another one of the great journeys of my trip so far. The wide river Angara sparkling on one side of the road, a mixture of green, yellow and brown trees on the other. Tourist season is pretty much over now so the little place was quiet apart from me and a wedding party but it was a stunning area to walk around especially on a clear day like today. Looking across I was able to spot huge snow-capped mountains on the other side, just lots of the bluest water you'll ever see between me and them.

It's the world's biggest lake by volume and easily the deepest. Surprisingly little pollution too so the water's clean enough to drink. I dipped my hands in (thereby adding one year to my life, according to local legend) and took a decent mouthful and sure enough it was very crisp and cold. Plenty to go round as well - if the rest of the planet ran dry tomorrow there's enough water in the lake to keep all 6 billion of us going for the next 40 years. No hosepipe bans round here.

Sink Estate

2004-09-15T09:44:00.000+01:00

Irkutsk

Got a place to stay in the end and a cheap one at that although it took a bit of finding. The only clue to its existence is the word "hostel" spray painted in red between two scrutty looking doors round the back of an apartment block. It's better on the inside. Went into the bathroom for a shower, on getting out I put my hand on the sink only for it to completely give way and smash all over the floor. The woman who runs the place may be the only cheerful female in Russia which was just as well. Not batting an eyelid at my dripping wet, towel-clad body she sang along to herself as she swept it all up before saying "kaput" several times and walking out again. Strange lot round here, maybe it's something in the water. Irkutsk is the only city in Russia where the stuff from the tap is ok to drink because it all comes from the lake. Hopefully its legendary medicinal powers will put me in better condition by tomorrow.

No Room At The Inn

2004-09-15T06:05:00.000+01:00

Irkutsk

It's all gone a bit Pete Tong in the last 24 hours. The train journey from Krasnoyarsk was a bit of a nightmare from the start as my legendary ox-like constitution finally caved in completely, leaving me to become much more acquainted with the interior of Russian Railways toilets than I'd ever thought possible. Nasty stomach pains too and I didn't sleep at all. It must be something I ate and I'm quite prepared to blame those superficially friendly Siberians who gave me all that food on the train the other day. I thought they were being hospitable but clearly they were all just out to poison me, bastards.

I've been trailing round town for the last couple of hours looking for a place to rest my shattered body but to no avail. There's one place left to try and if that draws a blank I may be forced into skirting round Lake Baikal and making an earlier than expected dash for Mongolia. Bet all that boiled mutton won't give me food poisoning.

A Pleasant Surprise

2004-09-13T06:13:00.000+01:00

Krasnoyarsk

Scrambled up one of the hills on the edge of town yesterday afternoon to see a tiny cathedral and a view of the city. Apart from a few old fashioned wooden huts clustered together waiting to be burned down, it's great big concrete rectangles to the left, right and straight ahead. The huge River Yenisey is a fine sight though, and in this morning's warm sunshine it looks great with the trees all around turning brown and yellow.

I can't quite put my finger on what I like about this city. It's a shame about the Soviet buildings and factories, but I've got so used to seeing them around I hardly notice anymore. The riverfront here is a great area and there seem to be more young people about than in the rest of Siberia put together. If Krasnoyarsk was in Europe and had some nice architecture it would be one of the great cities of the world. Unfortunately it's in the middle of nowhere - Krasnoyarsk region is the size of Saudi Arabia. So it'll just have to remain our little secret.

Making Friends

2004-09-12T08:32:00.000+01:00

Krasnoyarsk

Got the train along here last night and I had the luck to be sharing a compartment with some very sociable Russians. I'd heard that locals will often offer you food on the Trans-Siberian, but I wasn't prepared for the impressive spread my travelling companions managed to knock together. I'd also heard about Russians' love for booze, and a bottle of local whisky was quickly produced. Locals see you as their guest here and wouldn't accept any of the food I had, although I managed to get them to try some Laphroaig still lurking in the bottom of my backpack which went down well. Conversation was a bit tricky but Rowan's phrasebook got passed around a lot and we managed to get by. It was certainly getting very convivial by the time the whisky was finished, then the two men disappeared. I asked the woman where they'd gone, she said "restaurant" and pointed at the empty bottle. Sure enough back they came with a bottle of vodka and I realised we were going to be making a night of it whether I wanted to or not. I'd been a bit hungover to start with and feeling pretty delicate, but I'm glad to say I managed to keep pace with the locals even on the vodka and didn't let my country down. British stiff upper lip and all that.

Krasnoyarsk is easily the most beautifully situated of all the cities I've visited in Siberia. It hasn't got much competition, true, but coming through the Autumnal forests on the train this morning was lovely and the view from my surprisingly plush hotel is pretty great. I think I'll kick back and settle in here for a couple of days.

Economies Of Scale

2004-09-11T10:02:00.000+01:00

Novosibirsk

Everything about this city is huge. I'm staying on the 14th floor of a massive hotel opposite a very busy station (Omsk-Novosibirsk is the busiest stretch of railway for freight in the world) and a big, wide square. It's a city of the 20th century, the Soviets clearly had plans to make it a place with 10 million people, and the whole centre is laid out as if it is that big. As it is, the 1.5 million who actually live here scuttle around like ants, never even nearly filling the space around them. I've never been to Milton Keynes but I imagine it's like this, only about 50 times smaller.

Went to a bar last night and a band did a reasonable set of covers. A few Russian songs but mostly British. Sting got 3 tracks played (including a decent stab at "Shape Of My Heart") which was one more than U2 and Robbie Williams, proving that there's life in the old tantric dog yet at least as far as Siberia is concerned.

Sex And The City

2004-09-09T06:37:00.000+01:00

Omsk

Both here and in Yekaterinburg there are very few conventional pubs, instead locals drink in little marquee things that are set up in various parks and open spaces around the city. It would be just like those great beer gardens in Munich, if it wasn't so bloody cold and wet. I went into one last night to read a bit more of my pretentious book and found everyone in there was playing backgammon. There was some great Russian indie on the stereo though so it was a pleasant enough hour or so.

Got back to the hotel to find Sex And The City, dubbed very badly into Russian, on the local TV channel. All the way through the bottom part of the screen was full of adverts for credit agencies and Lada dealerships in the Omsk area, which proves that with only a little local variation everyone's culture is becoming more or less the same, even in Siberia.

The sun's out and Omsk looks almost appealing. There are quite a few parks and trees around in what's called "Siberia's greenest city" although the phrase 'polishing a turd' springs to mind. Anyway, it's enough to overcome my slight disappointment at Scotland's draw last night and put me in a decent mood to head further east.

Siberian Rain

2004-09-08T11:02:00.000+01:00

Omsk

Woke up on the train this morning in Siberia and shortly afterwards rolled into this city, the second biggest in the region. Well, I say 'region', but Siberia covers one-twelfth of the world's land space, so maybe 'monstrous carbuncle' would be a better phrase.

If there's one word you'd use to describe Omsk it might be 'unlovely' although it could just as easily be 'shithole'. It's probably not at its best in the relentless driving rain but I've not got anything else to measure it by so I'm afraid my judgement's going to be a bit harsh. Dostoevsky was exiled here for four years' hard labour and it's not too difficult to see why. There's a bit of a military background to the city, during the civil war Admiral Kolchak made this the capital of the White Army until the Communists seized it in November 1919. I took a look round the military museum just now where I was heavily outnumbered (2 to 1) by staff. My enjoyment of it was hampered slightly by the old woman who insisted on following me round, turning on the lights as I went into a room and turning them off in the room I'd just left.

Before I left Yekaterinburg I had the pleasure of my first brush with the law. A policeman pulled me over in a metro station, said something to me in Russian, waved a big stick about, then told me to follow him. He opened a hidden door into a dark corridor that led into a small dimly-lit room. Taking a look at the grotty cell in the corner I decided I didn't much fancy it, but the inevitable fat bloke with a moustache behind the desk wasn't too bad. After the bombing in Moscow last week I think they really just wanted to look through my bag, although they did spend ages scanning my passport. In the end the fact I had a rail ticket to Omsk probably saved me (not a sentence I ever thought I'd write) and they didn't even try to scam me out of any money, which was a shame because while all this was going on I was going through my phrasebook trying to work out what "I demand to be taken to the British Consul" is in Russian. I'm sure it'll come in handy one day.

No Place Like Home

2004-09-07T10:10:00.000+01:00

Yekaterinburg

The plague of the theme pub has spread into most corners of the world and Yekaterinburg is no exception. I've managed to resist the temptation of various British bars across Europe, but after seeing the first Scottish pub of my trip here of all places I decided to stop by last night. Attached to a posh hotel Gordon's was too pricey to stay for more than one drink, but the surreal experience of sitting at a table in deepest Russia with a picture of Burns in front of me, one of Edinburgh to my left and the Declaration of Arbroath behind was worth doing. The barmen all had kilts on too, I wonder if they had any idea what it was all about.

On Lenin Prospekt I found a Beatles bar called Yellow Submarine. It was tiny inside but nicely done out, the sort of place that would be incredibly trendy in a tacky sort of way back home. As it was there was only me and a few Russians in there to enjoy a couple of locals running through various Beatles hits and other requests. One of the locals closed his eyes and sang along to every word, but then he was completely drunk.

Decided to stop at an off licence on the way home to get some cheap beer for the train tonight. On the way out who's picture should I see on the wall? None other than this city's favourite son Boris Yeltsin, snapped along with some staff members and grinning like the constantly half-cut man he is. Funny that the only sign of Yeltsin in all of Yekaterinburg has nothing to do with his busting of the hardline Communist coup in 1991 or any of his dramatic economic reforms, just him visiting a booze shop. I suppose it's not surprising.

Tracking Down The Tsar

2004-09-06T13:27:00.000+01:00

Yekaterinburg

Managed to find the spot where the Bolsheviks murdered the imperial family without too much bother. During his time as mayor here in the 1970s Boris Yeltsin had the house where it happened demolished so now there's just a plaque and a cross with a few flowers. The tiny wooden chapel nearby used to get burnt down routinely by anti-monarchists but it seems there are more mixed feelings about the Romanovs here these days. There's a big and very grand new cathedral in their honour beside the massacre site. However, it's directly across the road from a statue in honour of the 'Young Communists of the Urals'. This city is still more widely known as Sverdlovsk, a name that comes from the Communist Sverdlov who organised the killings. And the main road is still called Lenin Prospekt complete with an imposing statue of the man himself. It may be 13 years since the USSR broke up, the Tsar and his family may have been long since rehabilitated, but even now you can't escape the Soviets here.

More importantly than all this I've bought a coat, which is at least warm enough to see me through the Siberian September if not exactly the Russian Winter.

Back In The USSR

2004-09-06T06:45:00.000+01:00

Yekaterinburg

It's 29 hours here by train from Moscow, the first big chunk of the Trans-Siberian railway. The train was almost empty and I was the only foreigner on board but the journey went fine thanks to a regular supply of 5 rouble (that's 10p) cups of tea and a few conversations with Russians that didn't even get going enough to be considered 'halting'. Everyone that spoke to me found it hilarious I'd even consider travelling in Russia by train for fun. Maybe they have a point. What the hell am I doing here?

Anyway, crossed over into Asia late last night just before arriving here. Nearly one and a half million people live here, which makes it bigger than Leeds and Bradford put together, so it's hardly a backwater.

Went to the first hotel I found (the Sverdlovsk, the old Soviet name for this city that's still widely used) and managed to get a room. It's a huge old Communist concrete block that again looked mostly empty. Most of the stereotypes that exist of Soviet accommodation were confirmed as true within five minutes. In true Communist job-creation style you don't get your key from the receptionist, you get a bit of paper which you then have to give to another person who sits in another office on your floor. The corridors seem to be never ending, full of identical doors on either side. Eventually I found my room, and I imagine I'm the first person to find it in quite some time. The glass and plate that were in there were firmly stuck together, one of the windows doesn't shut properly (not a great thing when it's suddenly got very cold outside - 5C when I got in last night and not much warmer now), the wallpaper is pure 1960s and the black and white TV only manages to get one channel. Last night it was showing 'Arachnophobia' with a very disinterested Russian guy dubbing over all the parts (including women) in a monotone drawl.

All great fun this though, I went to bed smiling and not just because my mouth had frozen into that shape. Off to get a big coat this morning, then to see if I can find where the Romanovs were killed in 1918.

On a brighter note...

2004-09-05T12:45:00.000+01:00

I've finally got round to putting some of Richard's photos up on the web.

Apologies if they are quite slow to download, or not the best quality - haven't had time to beautify them!

If and when he gets his arse in gear to send me more pictures I'll add them...

http://www.rayneholt.com/richardontour.htm

Rayne xx

The View From Over Here

2004-09-03T17:17:00.000+01:00

Moscow

The bloody end to the siege in North Ossetia was depressingly predictable. This afternoon I've mostly been watching the remarkable live coverage on Sky News and it's been interesting to compare that with the more censored images Russians have been seeing. Only one of the local channels (NTV) has had live coverage all day and all TV stations have shied away from using the shots of the heaviest exchanges of fire and the most gory pictures of victims. Often the Russian news coverage consisted of a still picture of a map with a reporter commentating from the scene and one channel (Rossia) switched away from the firing as it reached its height and resumed its normal programming. Apparently the radio news is much freer here, and the Russians who want to know what's really going on prefer that to the local TV.

President Putin's going to be addressing the country later on. Don't ask me what he's going to say because it'll all be in Russian but it seems he's going to re-emphasise his tough policy on the Chechen problem. I'm sure he'll survive this crisis but how much he personally will be damaged by it depends much on how the storming came about. Various reports suggest the terrorists began firing on hostages as they tried to make a run for it and/or one of the terrorists may have accidentally set off a suicide bomb. That - coupled with the Kremlin's early insistence that many of the terrorists were not Chechens but "Arabs" - will help Putin politically both here and around the world. There's no doubt the Russian forces on the ground were caught by surprise so perhaps senior officials in the Defence Ministry may be made to take the blame for the chaos at the school, rather than Putin and others closer to him.

There's some concern we haven't seen the last of the attacks. The suicide bomber from the metro station attack here has been identified as the sister of one of the suspects in the plane bombings from last week. The two shared a flat in Grozny with a third woman being blamed for the other plane attack and a fourth who is presumed to be still on the loose. This weekend's City Day celebrations here have been cancelled in case she or anyone else had planned to target them.

One of the papers here has apparently said Chechens have taken "145 million hostages" across Russia - ie, the whole population. I doubt the public mood is quite like that and as I travel east from tomorrow it'll be interesting to see if attacks in Moscow and the Caucasus have much impact on the rest of this huge country.

Terrorism

2004-09-02T15:31:00.000+01:00

Moscow

Went along to the Sky News bureau earlier, just missing most of the team as they went to the airport to try to get a flight to Vladikavkaz to cover the ongoing hostage crisis. Passenger flights from Moscow and St Petersburg down there have been stopped but the news media managed to club together to get on a plane.

Since I arrived in Russia ten days ago there have been four terrorist attacks. Two planes were blown up last week then there was the bombing outside an underground station here a couple of days ago. I wouldn't say it's had much impact on the ordinary life of the country though. There are young-looking soldiers stationed in pairs in and around the metro and the Kremlin's shut to everyone but pre-booked tour groups, but that seems to be about it. The mentality of the local people appears to be to shrug slightly and get on with everyday life, even though there are widespread local reports (of admittedly questionable reliability) predicting more attacks by Chechens. There's not much visible mourning or grief as you'd expect in the west either, just flags at half-mast for one day last week after the planes went down. I suppose people are more used to terrorist attacks here than in all western countries - even Britain - but the apparently relaxed attitude of everyone is still a bit of a surprise to me.

Paying My Respects

2004-09-01T16:20:00.000+01:00

Moscow

Spent the day acting as a groupie for dead Russians. Red Square was largely sealed off after last night but I still managed to get into Lenin's tomb. It's surprisingly simple, just down some stairs and into a room, walk round the body and in 30 seconds back out into the sunshine. He looked very peaceful, but then he has been dead for 80 years. More surprisingly he's got a black and white spotted tie on proving that fashion wasn't one of the Bolsheviks' strong points.

After leaving the tomb you have to follow the path past various other Soviet luminaries who have their ashes scattered in the Kremlin walls. The most important get busts, among them four of the other five dead General Secretaries. Brezhnev looks stern, Andropov quite cheerful, Chernenko uncharacteristically healthy and Stalin just appears bored.

The only Soviet leader not buried there is Khruschev (ousted as leader and forced to die in obscurity) so I went down to the main cemetery in town where all other illustrious Russians are buried. His tomb was pretty vulgar. More interesting was Gogol, whose statue stands above his grave looking pretty foppish. He wouldn't have looked quite so chipper had he known he was going to be accidentally buried alive, but then that serves him right for sleeping in coffins.

Finished off with a look round the Second World War museum, which features a lot of exhibits referring not to Soviet soldiers but to "patriotic men defending the Motherland" while the Germans are invariably called "vile Fascist dogs". A lot of fascinating stuff in there not least a series of dioramas of key battles. My feet are sore after a long day's walking, so I'm looking forward to a good sit down tonight.

Under Attack

2004-08-31T19:56:00.000+01:00

Moscow

I've only been here 36 hours and already the terrorists are on to me. I was nowhere near the scene of tonight's attack being out on a tour of the city courtesy of Bron's parents who are very hospitably putting me up. The hostel we stayed in last night was a lot nearer, but my big moment of on-the-scene reporting that makes my name is going to have to wait.

Moscow looked great in the fading light, some remarkable Stalin-era buildings and Victory Park were stunning all lit up. Looking forward to seeing some more tomorrow.

Underground

2004-08-31T10:56:00.000+01:00

Moscow

Fourth class down here wasn't so bad, a bit like being on a bog standard bus for nine hours, only with a bar car that sold beer out of one of those ice cream fridges. It was half empty so just about bearable. On arriving at the Leningrad station I thought the train had turned round in the night because it's exactly the same as the Moscow station in St Petersburg. Nothing like Soviet central planning.

If there's one thing the Soviets got right it's the metro. Moscow's probably the first city I've seen with an underground to better the unfairly criticised Tube. Trains here come every two minutes, the palacial stations are worth visiting in themselves, and it's great fun going down to the super-deep lines (deep so they could act as bomb shelters in the event of nuclear war) on the long escalators because they whip down there a third faster than the escalators in London. You could have hours of fun going up and down, and given the difficulty in reading the cyrillic station names that's just as well because you usually have to.

Vladimir and Volleyball

2004-08-29T10:48:00.000+01:00

St Petersburg

The pretentious theme of the trip continued yesterday with a visit to the Nabokov museum at the dirty sod's old house. Besides being a pervert he also had a strange obsession with chess and butterflies. No sign of either at St Isaac's Cathedral which we headed to next, yet another fantastically opulent 19th century monument to the wealth of imperial Russia. The interior is dramatic and incredibly gaudy and there's a fine view from the colonnade across to the equally sumptuous Winter Palace. No wonder the peasants got pissed off.

We found a quiet, trendy sort of bar and stayed there far too long. Lots of locals got far too excited about the women's volleyball and drank plenty well into the night. They seem to be good drunks though the Russians, at one point a bunch of them got up and started singing the national anthem which is the same as the old Soviet one. It was so patriotic I half expected to find some tanks rolling down the street when we left the bar, but thankfully it was all quiet.

Getting the train to Moscow tonight. We've got tickets for a fourth class coach. Yes, that's fourth (count 'em) class. Who knows what state we'll be in by the time we get there but it should be fine as long as we're not sharing with farm animals.