Graveyards, gimp and the decline into senility!

As we move towards the joys of spring, you know all those lovely, brave, flowers poking their head above the trench tops, birds noisily arguing and sorting territories out whilst chirping incessantly 'location, location, location, the mind naturally welcomes the thought of longer days.  If nothing else, this past winter, now finally buggering off into a receding memory, matching the ever hastening receding hairline, it's been a very long one and never ending.  But we can look back on it with some affection and a careless smile, which lasts all of 2 minutes on my ugly mug, knowing that it'll be back before Jack Frost can say 'I saw Santa Claus coming down the central heating flue, chimneys being a distant memory.

It's a happy time for there's the good weather ahead, the rain, the blue grey hues of fluffy clouds, prancing about in the azure sky.  Then there's the stroll along the river to one of my more favoured spots, the graveyard where I can hang about with a lot of people who don't mind listening to you moaning about the state of the economy, and patiently let you prattle on about this or that.  As a passing thought at this moment in time, perhaps if I was to become an actor I'd love to perform Hamlet there, at least the audience would have some real appreciation of the 'Alas poor Yorick, I knew him well' speech, as I hold his skull in my hand.  Graveyards and renditions of Shakespeare are vastly underrated as natural bedfellows in my opinion.

Be that as it may, I'm slowly plodding through the 4,000 odd photos I took in the US, both trying to put them into categories for a slideshow and do the necessary improvements using GIMP, a wonderful photo editing programme that can be found at www.gimp.org for those so inclined.  There are versions for mac, windows etc and best of all it's free.  As with everything concerned with new software and my mental faculties, or lack of them as I head towards a doddering autumnal season in life, it's a steep learning curve only slightly softened by its immensely forgiving nature and the ability to let me do numerous 'undo' actions due to my lack of technical knowledge being far greater than my boyish enthusiasm for playing silly buggers. But then if it keeps me off the streets and out of trouble, who cares?

Thankfully my life remains absolutely boring, apart from the occasional delight thrown in to keep me on my toes and ones causing enough of a bodily movement to remind me that I'm still breathing, although remembering most things seems to be more troublesome than forgetting them.  That I guess is due to the same problems that King Canute had, more often than not the things we want to hold back we are powerless to do so.

The suit and Wall Street!

Over the past days I've been thinking greatly about the state of the world, and I came to the unsurprising conclusion that every major disaster that has happened throughout history has been due to someone wearing a particular item of clothing of one description or another.  And rather than give an endless list of fashionable warmongering, empire building, people oppressing clothing, I thought it would be an idea to simply lump all of them into one form of clothing that largely symbolises the modern world, the suit.
    On a particularly personal note, I will admit to having a few 'off the peg' suits because that's what my previous job required.  However, I've never been comfortable in one and when reluctantly worn I always felt like a trussed up turkey dreading the Christmas meal.  In real life I don't wear them and will almost certainly refuse to attend anything that requires me to wear one.  I hate them with a passion, not because they are a suit, they are, after all, nothing more than a matching and coordinated pair of trousers and jacket.  It's what they represent that I find particularly annoying and offensive.
    At a shallow level of inspection, the suit is neither fashionable, looks particularly good when worn, or a means of inspiration.  I can't think of anything less motivational or inspiring than a suit, and whenever I see suits being paraded around the only image that comes to mind is a mindless crowd of lemmings heading towards the edge of a cliff.  Yes, I'm being contentious, rightly so, and yes, I'm being very biased in my comments, the more so because it seems to get anywhere in the world a suit is a requirement.
    'Get where?' is a good question.  Well if we break it down, that means if you want to appear 'professional', aspire and belong to the Masonic Brotherhood of Suiting Apparel, then you wear a suit.  The suit then defines you, allows you to fit in with the modern day versions of the KKK.  When wearing one you have identity and a licence to perfom any number of acts, which may be contrary to basic human decency.  In other words, a suit enrobes you, empowers you, gives you a sense of superiority; but more than that it gives any old excuse to be excused any form of misbehaviour.
    I'm not saying that every individual who wears a suit becomes a megalomaniac, or rabidly salivates with bared teeth, or wants to become a raving lunatic of dictatorial proportions, but I should imagine that 95% lean in that direction.  Those 95% are the cause of my discontent today, because it is those who manage to screw up the world we live in.  Think about it, it's always a 'suit' that causes financial markets to collapse, that sells things, that takes political decisions, that holds power, that makes laws, that does things hardly conducive to decency and uncorrupted.  And for the life on me I've never been able to understand why anyone wants to buy a suit made by Armani, Boss et al, and put even more wealth into the pockets of the already wealthy, when there are people starving in the world.  I just find it particularly difficult to find any justifiable reason for the vast difference and disparity between the money paid to those who produce the raw materials for a suit and its eventual grossly inflated and obscene price in the shops.
    This particular tirade today stems from having seen Wall Street in 'the flesh' when I was in New York.  I never took a photograph, largely due to my opposition to all it stands for, but also because this miniscule parody of enormous corruption has done more to blight the dreams and aspirations of decent people, who don't need to wear a suit, than any other organisation I can think of at the moment.  And wherever you look in the history of the last two centuries, the connection between strife, war, poverty, inequality, cruelty, and pure injustice, it always seems to come back to Wall Street and the suits who inhabit it.
 

Happy snaps and the American energy policy!

It seems that the present weather on the east coast of the USA is very bad.  Perhaps it was somewhat fortunate that whilst I was there 75% of my time was filled with sunshine, even if most of the time it was very chilly.  Being English, and with antifreeze running through my veins, it was bearable and wasn't that uncomfortable.  When the sun didn't come out to play, it snowed a little or a lot, and I recall suffering from the dreaded 'loss' of sensation in my fingers, which made taking photographs somewhat labourious and maddening.  But despite the handicap of being unable to wear gloves, they constantly got in the way and made it virtually impossible to operate the camera successfully, I 'snapped' happily away to my heart's content even though one had to suffer for one's art.

I mention this for the only reason that now slowly working through the photos I'm both happy with the end results, and amazed just how many came out successfully.  Equally, there are a number of potentially 'good', I use the word with a great deal of latitude, photos that bear all the incriminating evidence of camera shake due to frozen fingers and a shivering disposition.  Even more surprising was the photos I took, which I fully expected to be awful due to resting on the delightful stomach of a belly dancer, turned out vastly better than I expected.  I will upload some of my better efforts when sorted so you can judge for yourself.

However, looking through the pictures I've sort of noticed that I've been subconsciously more intimately involved with water and wild places, and those of cities exhibit a less than careful approach, unless I was involved in a surreal scene.  Super Mario in Times Square shows all the signs of attention to detail, as does Spiderman, but the Woolworth Building and the Rockefeller Centre much less so.  Perhaps this does no more than confirm the suspicion that the outward ostentatious nature of money and its public indecency, is of far less interest to me than watching Super Mario frivolously cavorting around Times Square at 2 in the morning.  Much the same could be said about the delight taken standing by the statue of Rocky in Philadelphia, where for the first time during the holiday I was able to wander around without the need for a jacket; it was around 2c so felt warm, much helped by the sun and clear blue sky.

Of course, there are some scenes that simply beggared disbelief, which unfortunately never get photographed for one reason or another.  As I was dragged up with a mixture of Flipper, Chips, and endless Saturday morning cinema where the lone ranger and Tonto regularly dispatched the baddie, all later replaced by the more serious flicks of the 'French Connection', 'Serpico' and their like my cinematic perception of the USA was dutifully moulded.  But then cynicism crept in for a period and I took a more enlightened view that the USA couldn't possibly be as Hollywood depicted it.  Sadly this is something of an understatement and throughout the yuletide period homes paid homage to the Griswald family Christmas home.  Yes, the inspiration for the film, 'National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation' was there in reality.  As my friend and I travelled along the interstate and freeways of Massachusetts, the citadels of luminosity revealed themselves, evermore outrageous, bedecked with Christmas lights that consumed enough electricity to power a small country for a year.  The American thirst for competitiveness was well and truly alive, and were I to award first prize it would be to the ranch we passed by one evening in the dark, gloriously adorned with hundreds upon hundreds of light bulbs for being the most outlandish attempt at wasting energy.  Second prize would go to the much more mundane effort of a six foot Santa Claus completely blocking the front door of a house.  Third place would have to be awarded to the valiant power workers, who managed to keep the electricity flowing.

We often watch the news, or read it, and America comes in for a lot of stick concerning its energy policies, or lack of them as the case may be.  And I think that the message is finally coming home to roost.  Recycling seems to be on the increase; in service stations, and other public places, the toilets have signs encouraging users to think carefully about waste paper and water; there are signs reminding employees to wash their hands, customers don't get a mention.  Of course Europe is far ahead in better environmental policies and energy saving schemes, but Americans are to be praised and encouraged for finally coming onboard the trash can revolution.  One of the most welcoming sights was the extra lane set aside for cars to use that were carrying two or more passengers, sadly nobody seem to be using it.

And so the American adventure continues!

And so the story of the 'virgin abroad' continues, and having spent a little time in Boston, Washington DC, Philadelphia and New York, each different yet each virtually the same, it's hard to imagine that I'd actually spent any time at all in any of the places.

Each of us will, individually, view such cities in our own unique way, and in doing so will likely be lumbered with the stock images of Hollywood, history and the media onslaught that's all too prevalent in a, sadly, consumerist and globally commercial world.  I, personally, am no great lover of cities anywhere in the world, and their only real compensation is the ability to offer the refuge of anonymity for those so inclined, of which I'm one.  There's something to be said for being alone in the thick of a crowd, if nothing else the madness of life becomes far more manageable and you simply extract the bits of direct interest.  Of course, a new city is one found to be exciting for it offers the opportunity to compare and contrast, and even challenge the perceptions you may have, but in the end a city is a city and all function in the same way.

I realise that I may be offering a negative view, I'm not.  Cities appeal to people because of their bustling nature, and the four mentioned above are perfectly capable of proving me wrong for those so inclined to argue with me.  All I'm saying is that I'm no great lover of cities, and the best times I had visiting anywhere were either individual places of interest, or the coastal fishing ports.  Perhaps the point I'm making is that modern cities look rarely different from each other because of the corporate need to blandly display their image in exactly the same way wherever they are; which to my mind sterilises the very unique nature of any city.

Despite those comments, each of the cities visited revealed something surprising.  There's been much play over the years that the USA is violent and that wondering around is perhaps not the best option.  I wasn't in the slightest bit concerned on my travels, even when riding the subway.  If I had any worries then it'd be on the roads where the order and lane discipline of European motorways has largely been abandoned in the States, but that's a tale of its own and best left to the likes of Hollywood's finest directors to gloss over.  One might want to watch the madness of American driving as shown in the Steve Martin film 'Bowfinger', particularly the scene where Eddie Murphy tries to cross the interstate to get an idea.  Riding the subway was an initial worry, I've no doubt due to the attention drawn to the problems of former years by the media, helped along by the stalwarts of the film industry.  It may well be different late at night, or in the twilight hours, I don't know, but riding the subway from Brooklyn to Harlem in New York, a long subway journey, nothing was more worrying than getting off at the right stop.

The New York subway was perhaps more enlightening in terms of people, nobody made any kind of eye contact, which I gather from my dear friend Stefan is perfectly normal and he did inform me that every individual is in a world of their own, listening to an iPod, reading something or other, just generally minding their own business.  Personal space was another thing I noticed, and no matter how packed the subway train was everyone managed to be surrounded by a 'force field'.  Another misconception is that everybody ignores you in New York, and if you were to drop dead they'd simply step over you, walk around you, or cross the street simply to ignore you.  During my time there people were helpful and answered any questions or queries I had, at 2am on Sunday morning in Times Square a delightful lady of Asian heritage started chatting to us without any prompting, a totally unexpected surprise given that New Yorkers have a reputation to the contrary.  The same thing happened when I spent the day alone in Philadelphia, a nice lady came up to me asking if I was lost and needed a map; she was no doubt under the illusion that I needed some kind of help, wandering around as I was with camcorder in my hand, hopelessly looking like a tourist, completely lost in a world of my own making.  For me, such a state is perfectly normal when I'm engaged with my environment, to an outsider I guess I might resemble something that might be better helped by being taken on a ride with two individuals wearing white coats.

None of the cities I visited were covered in any depth, and my visits brief.  All I can say is that none of them dispelled any thoughts I might have about not liking cities.  All were sufficiently different to engender an interest, none of them I'd like to live in.  Boston and Philadelphia were historically interesting.  Washington politically so, and New York is as garish as it is dull and grey.  Each has its own unique flavour, each is as easy to get lost in as to find something to occupy the mind for a while.  Boston has a sense of Europe about it, largely due to its history, Philadelphia a product of its own colonial history, Washington had the feeling of a working capital, closing after 6pm.  New York, the 'Big Apple' nothing like 'Sex in the city'.  For now I'll finish there, except to say that each of the four cities looked magnificent during the hours of darkness, when the skyscrapers took on their own particular identity, awash with lights, surreal and more exciting to the eye.  Perhaps, when all said and done, American cities only become American cities at night, the various vistas will remain with me a lot longer than the daylight versions.

The American shopping experience!

Having now almost virtually got over the jet lag, which has to be both welcomed and a goddamn relief, I can begin my thoughts on the USA.  Please try to remember that this is an entirely personal view, and where I should happen to mention something positive about the US this is not to be taken as a sign of advanced dementia, or its quickening onset.

I pride myself on being utterly open minded about any country I visit, therefore it naturally follows that the moment I board the plane all previous prejudices, bias and stupid thinking is put away.  Of course, once a previously held perception is proven to be the case, I become overwhelmed with a pompous delight in being proved to be right, which ultimately means I spend a lot of the time in self denial, sucking my thumb and generally refusing to remove my head from where the sun never shines.  Upon that particular note I'll continue, and in doing so I won't give a city by city account, but rather work along the lines of what I found good or bad.

First confession has to be that I'd never had any desire to visit the USA, it wasn't a place of much interest, which declined in my estimation when the UK began following the continually failing policies of an American system, socially, politically and economically.  These particular views reinforced by my own particular political leanings, which are somewhat left of centre in European terms, and most certainly way to the left in American terms.  I make no apologies for this, mostly due to my being a complete dinosaur when it comes to what I consider fair, just and acceptable.  But enough of the politics.

As I wrote in my blog, two entries ago, I was greeted at Boston Logan airport by a rather sympathetic immigration officer, which was my first surprise.  Whether the following view is right or wrong, the perception is that every American officer of the law is suspicious of everyone entering the country, who isn't American.  So the first myth was debunked, certainly every officer carries a gun, most wear a grim countenance and most you wouldn't want to get in an argument with, but my passage through was relatively easy and I was met with nothing but courtesy and a pleasant demeanour.  For the most part, during my stay, I was met with the same kind of attitude and those with nothing to gain, in a financial sense of the word, were friendly and interested in what you had to say personally.  However, that word 'buck' did on one particular occasion did leave a bad taste in my mouth, but more of that later.

To my very English sensibilities, something that's ingrained and hard to get rid of, the passing of pleasantries, when meeting someone, is often taken at face value and can serve to overcome that first encounter, often uncomfortable and due to a natural reserve, slightly apprehensive.  Yet you meet the American shop assistant, or checkout worker, and each and everyone asks how are you.  At the beginning I thought they were being nice, but I was quickly informed that this was normal and none were expecting any kind of answer, and would rather not have an answer.  This led to the impression that Americans are by and large a race of superficial characters, with absolutely no time and inclination towards anything remotely conversational.  I, being me, did no more than challenge this ridiculous attitude and replied, which was often greeted with much surprise and a complete sense of absolute loss of how to respond; particularly so in the middle age female sales assistant, when I replied to her 'how are you?' with 'all the better for seeing you my dear!'  On another occasion, whilst searching for a particular kind of jumper, I was immediately approached by this salesman, who clearly was under the impression that I was both a lost child and complete idiot.  This particular kind of 'customer service' rankles deeply with me and one I find very objectionable.  I replied to his earnest superficiality with a determined, but quietly stated, and I thought resounding 'no' when he asked if he could be of help; I've always been of the opinion that I'm perfectly capable of asking for help should I need it, but clearly there are some idiots born to be salesmen, and have no idea what the word 'no' means.  He reluctantly backed off, but a few moments later he then continued to follow me around the store, acting as though I was something akin to a trophy animal to stalk, hunt down, and finally shoot me dead.  Upon hearing his 'if I can be of any help' the second time, I lost my temper and very forcibly told him that 'should the CUSTOMER need his help I'd ask for it.'  I think he got the message as he sloped off with his tail between his legs.  But the stalking continued, as I left the store, I heard footsteps behind me, eventually with him asking a very impertinent 'excuse me' as he walked past me.  Sadly, such behaviour simply confirmed that the salesman is the worst kind of animal possible, and the American salesman the worst of the species.

In many ways, such behaviour does an enormous disservice to the vast majority of sales people, who are simply trying to do their job.  For those particular individuals, who in the main were courteous and helpful when asked, even if it eventually grated on my ears to hear the same scripted 'song', were simply trying to earn a living.  As a complete outsider, although the same practices exist in any part of the developed world, much could be done to improve customer services, and the start would be to let the 'customer be king'.  The question companies such as Sears, Macy's, J C Penney, should be asking is how to improve customer relations, not how to increase sales.  As a child, stores sold goods because the goods sold themselves, but the sales assistant rarely pushed.  Back then the 'customer was king', sadly that no longer applies, and both the sales assistant and individual is often left with an experience leaving a very bitter taste in the mouth.

This is but a brief account of the American shopping experience, and one that was more favourable was Internet shopping, a new concept to me.  Here the Americans have got it right, delivery takes place within the specified time, if dissatisfied with the goods sent they can be immediately returned and no questions are asked, returns are paid for by the company.  Personally, the ability to choose without pressure was a delight, although the vast array of stores made life difficult when it came to the matter of trust.  The matter of trust often depends on recommendations, and it was noticeable that many Internet stores often included poor reviews in addition to good ones, and final judgment could be based on an informed decision.  I have to thank my friend Stefan here for his recommendations, and what could have been a painful experience for me, a more enjoyable one.

Finally, despite my perceptions to the contrary I failed miserably to find items of clothing and shoes that I wanted, despite the vast array of shopping outlets there are.  I couldn't find a soft camera bag for my camcorder, I couldn't find a pair of Chelsea boots, and I couldn't find a fisherman's jumper.  And if Apple wishes to 'conquer' the world, breaking the dominance of windows and the pc market, my suggestion would be to vastly improve its product information, way before it decides to launch the latest technological wonder, the iPad.  Most companies would be in a far better position if they spent more time on getting the basics right, keeping the customer happy, rather than trying to be something where 'style will always matter over substance!'

Swiss gnomes....and a pussy!

I'm now home, and catching up on the chores that need doing after being away for a month.  The washing seems endless, and the thought of ironing the pile of clothes an even more labourious task to come, but I guess that's the price you have to pay for being away for so long.  The only happy thought is watching Mr. Bean as I do the necessary thankless task.

The flight from Boston Logan airport was an uneventful 7 hours, flying through the night, heading towards the morning rising sun of the European continent, finally landing at Zurich airport, around 10.45am.  Switzerland has a reputation for being full of humourless characters, and I can now confirm this to be true; especially the security guard who gave me a body search in a cubicle.  Unknown to me, and German and American security, where I went through without any real trouble, apart from the smuggling incident when I arrived at Boston, it seems that my shoes had a strip, piece, of metal running through the soles, which in turn caused the metal detector you pass through to throw a wobbly.  It's very easy for me to claim total innocence in such matters, but when a machine casts doubt on your security status, and that causes it to emit a piecing shrill, I'm quite clearly a member of the terrorist organisation, the 'R_Sole Renegades'.

The female security guard clearly took a dislike to my ponytail, no doubt due to her lack of hair, and I had to line up at the cubicle for a closer inspection.  The cubicle curtains were drawn back, and a man in his 60s left the cubicle in a somewhat bedraggled state, which didn't do much for the confidence bit.  Behind him was the uniformed security officer, wearing rubber gloves and carrying what can only be described as either an enormous vibrator or a very large truncheon to beat the crap out of me; either way it wasn't something to be desired.  As it turned out the 'thrill' or 'kill' equipment was a handheld metal detector, which eventually went to places I never knew existed on my body.  I did worry a little when the security guard started rubbing his hands up and down my body, followed by undoing my jeans, followed by the thorough examination with the metal detector; George Bush and Tony Blair have much to answer for, the Swiss gnomes even more!

I was finally cleared of any security doubts, which was nice, although I do feel sorry for the female gender when faced with an hormonally driven man on a mission.  After my experience I wouldn't find a 'bit of rough' in the slightest bit appealing.

The past 2 days have seen jet lag rear its ugly head, and I've been subject to life in 2 different time zones.  Whilst I'm often more inclined to be of muddled head leanings, often forgetting things, this past few days must rank as the highlight of my cerebral incompetence.  On my return to Germany I was met by my delightful friend Dino, who having kindly dropped me off at my place, asked me to feed and water a mutual friend's cat yesterday, which I promptly forgot.  He reminded me this morning, so the poor pussy was a bit miffed and refused to greet me when I opened the door.  I suppose the moral is 'don't forget to feed the pussy', otherwise it too throws a wobbly and hates you more than any Swiss security guard ever could!

The end of the holiday!

And so it came to pass that the holiday must end; and very reluctantly so.  Today I'll depart the USA, leaving in the darkness that I arrived in, leaving with a wonderfully warm feeling in the pit of my stomach, a heart in much better shape than when I came.  None of this will be due to the US itself, which still remains a puzzle to my sociopolitical thinking, but due to the warmth and friendship of a dearly beloved German friend, Stefan, who made this particular 'adventure' possible, and the entire month here where he 'looked after me', making the few dreams I had prior to coming possible.  Nor should I forget that all American lady of immense charm and delight, Mary, another individual I'm privileged to call a friend, but time together all too brief.  To both I offer my heartfelt thanks, and to Stefan a much bigger hug for putting up with me and my incoherence on many a amusing moment and day.

Over the next few blogs I'll give a personal insight into my time here, but all that needs saying for the moment is that I'll be returning to Germany in a much better frame of mind than when I left.  As a travel virgin, the 'deflowering' was necessary in the sense that I was able to gain a little better understanding of the moments in history that have been important to me.  Standing by the graveside of JFK, standing on the spot where Martin Luther King made his 'I have a dream' speech and so on, there's a tangible connection between the young me, events that have inspired, and events that have shaped my own thinking, whether for good or ill.

I'll leave in a few hours, some views hardened, some thoughts softened, but although the time here is still incredibly raw and fresh and I've not actually left I have the nagging sense that the USA remains totally immersed in its silverscreen identity.  Maybe a harsh thing to say, and maybe the passing of a few weeks will soften that particular thought, but for the moment it's hard to distinguish between the media driven USA and the 'real' USA.  All I can say with some certainty is that my visit has been a learning process, and if travel does broaden the mind, it also reinforces the prejudices of experience, which is a sad thought it has to be said.

There I'll leave it until the next blog entry.  Again, if I've learned nothing else during this holiday visit, the one thing I've grown to appreciate more is friendship and its acceptance of simply being 'human'.

Thanks Stefan for everything you made possible!

Arrival in Boston

Well there you go an Englishman abroad, finally!  After escaping the Chrimbo market back home, and setting off at 11:45 for the States, I arrived at Boston Logan at 6pm, whereby I ran into the first problem, immigration.  I'm my own worst enemy at times, but really it does help if you read both sides of the document you need to fill out to gain entry into the USA.  Maybe the kindly officer, female, was utterly bemused by the sight of the intrepid travel virgin, incapable of ticking boxes, that she finally let me through after I'd filled in the required number.  Of course, I being I decided to declare the bags of contraband, which then held up proceedings some more, the contraband was four bags of coffee beans, six packets of bread yeast, and the killer of all murderous contraband...vanilla sauce powder.

Clearly the US Immigration & Customs were dealing with a less than intellectual member of the human species, and no doubt correctly assumed that a man who truthfully declares he's bringing vanilla sauce into the USA poses no real security threat.  Of course I'm an innocent man, who's only criminal offence is being a man, which he naturally blames his mother for, well she's responsible for the chromosome lottery that has a silly moment.

Finally I managed to get through all the hurdles that officialdom deems necessary, to be met by a lot of people at the arrivals gate.  That's the thing really, people meeting people for countless reasons, the majority no doubt enormously pleased to see their friend, relation, or milkman returning from his holiday in much warmer climes, which isn't very good for fresh milk, but he's ready to be back at work after a good rest from the endless cups of tea he's drunk before going away.  That aside, I wander through somewhat bemused by the attention being paid to the vanilla sauce, maybe they don't have it in the states, to be met by my dear friend S, who, unbeknown to me, is holding a camera and lets rip with the viciousness of an uzi hell bent on blinding me with its barrel flash.  My first words, uttered freely in the arena that is the arrivals hall was 'bastard', which a young lady thought was highly amusing, as did my friend.

I arrived to the joys of a Boston winter, slightly mild for the time of year, but with an abundance of snow, most of which had been shoved to one side by a macho pickup truck, immensely helped by the yellow snow plough blade attached to the front.  It all seemed a bit overwhelming, landing in a land where the language is a variation of your own, and one where there are doubts as to the sanity of your virginal status.  This isn't helped by the fact that every documentary, hollywood movie, TV series and news reports coming from the USA is heavily laden with a bias towards gun totting mayhem.  Perhaps, in future, there should be a health warning issued on every media product urging caution when viewing the contents.  Thus far, within the space of an hour of having my feet planted firmly on American soil, I'd certainly met the seriousness of the official world, as seen and practiced through American eyes, but people were polite, happy to talk, and perhaps contrary to popular belief far more open than is appreciated.  My one real concern was the language barrier, my own, not having been in an English speaking country for the last eight years, and a language restricted and largely curtailed by its limitations of use in a career I've come to love, teaching the language of my birth, English.

But hope always springs eternal for virgins everywhere, and if one has misgivings due to the foreboding messages of a world that should know better, one can't be blamed for accepting the good graces of your real life hosts with a little more relish than is romantically acceptable.  As I live in a world that spends an enormous amount of time willing its own destructiveness, the sights and sounds of politeness ring ever truer to one's aging ears.  I could be ever more cynical and think that every polite word expressed by someone has a motive beyond its innocence, and maybe that's often the truth, yet somewhere deep the 'thank you' has a sense of value and worth, that is perhaps priceless and far too often abused by some of its practitioners.

On that note, it's with hand on heart that I thank 'S' for having made my present adventure possible.  I've no doubt I'll be saying 'thank you' to him on many occasions over the next few weeks, but as always it'll be voiced with the appreciation it deserves.

As a final word I'll keep writing the blog as and when I get the opportunity, keeping you up to date with my travels as a virgin abroad.  For now, wherever you're reading this, keep smiling!

Friendship and the Pond.

Well lots happened this week, and life became much clearer, ending up on Saturday with moving my friend 'D' to his new place.  After many years of slumming it as a cosmopolitan wannabee, he's now happily looking forward to life on the edge of town, overlooking a small wood and the golf course; with tongue in cheek I wish him every happiness in his new found quest to becoming even more middle class than he already is; something he strongly protests he's not....Can't help wondering why my leg is acting as though it's being pulled for some reason.  Seriously though, just for a moment, I've watched him these past few months entering another stage in his life, and I've never seen him happier.  I'm equally happy to say that without his support, care and kindness at a particularly bad moment in my life, who know's where I would have ended up.  And whilst it's perhaps not the 'manly' thing to say, my affection for him is without limit, even if I either don't show it enough, or don't say it; one of the joys of writing a blog is you can say it openly,  thanks matey!  But the next time you ask me to help you move, I'll be unavailable due to a forgotten meeting I'm supposed to be attending.

On Friday I had a final interview for a job and was accepted, which in the great scheme of things is nice to know that somebody wants me; especially in these times of economic uncertainty.  I'm scheduled to start at the beginning of February due to my being happily in the USA over Christmas & New Year for a well deserved rest.  Whether I keep the blog updated, whilst I'm away, or to wait until I get back to write it is open to debate, but the feeling at the moment is to escape any form of electronic communication and have a complete rest from it all.  I'm well aware that I spend far too much time piddling about on the Internet and laptop, and it would be very nice to avoid both whilst away; we shall see.  At the moment I'm focused on getting finished what I need to before I go, which means ever longer hours on the keyboard, not that I really mind, at least I'm busy and that's the most important thing.

However, I'm now beginning to feel a little excited with the passing of time, and the holiday ever closer.  It'll be a number of firsts for me, and so a great adventure.  It'll be the first time I've flown from one continent to another, the first time I've flown transatlantic, the first time in the USA, and the first time I've occupied the same seat for around 7 hours.  Then when I get there it'll be the first time I've eaten a real 'dog', hotdog before anyone starts complaining, the first lobster, pastrami on rye, apple pie like mom used to make, and numerous other things along the way. Culturally, there's lots to take in, and despite an often slightly jaundiced view of the US, I'll have an open mind when I get there, and one of the things here is to accept that whatever perception I may have, it is driven by the media, whereas my personal relationships with Americans are completely the opposite.

History has always been of interest, so there will much to cover and see with visits to Boston, New York and Washington.  Of course my time will be fairly limited, so whatever I see will be done with a purpose in mind.  I've no real desire to be wandering down 5th Avenue, Wall Street or hanging around Times Square, but hopefully I can get to visit the Apollo Theatre in New York.  Washington will be taken up with a visit to Capitol Hill, the Smithsonian and other sights.  Boston is likely to be freezing, but unlikely to deter from visiting the Harbour area etc.  Of course on a much lighter note, I'm playing with the idea of popping into the local IRS office and demanding, without menace, the repayment of taxes not paid to the British people since the revolution!

Hopefully, one of the highlights will be time spent on a beach, it'll take me back to those rare happy childhood days of wandering alone along the seafront during the winter months, which I've always said is the best time to visit a beach and see it in all's its glory, and at its supremely natural best.

A final remark about this trip, of a lifetime some might say, it might prove eventful in many, as yet unknown, ways, particularly as I'm no great lover of big bustling cities.  But the one thing it's already shown before I set sail across the pond, is the value of friendship.  And so 'S', from the bottom of my heart, thank you matey for making this possible.