Being the person just back from overseas is fun - there’s no doubt about it. I love telling stories and being the centre of attention and this is my moment. It will all be over soon and normality will resume.
But my blog is one place where the self-indulgence never ends. So allow me to point you to my Flickr, where a selection of photos from my trip are available for your viewing. Posting photos is a lot more fun than job hunting.
Now we come to the segment of our program where the hero says his goodbyes. Except I’ve already said all mine, with the last bunch yesterday in Orange County where I saw off sixteen of my closest new friends. This can get tiring.
Tomorrow night I hop on a flight back to Sydney. I think tomorrow I’ll try and do a rapid-fire tour of the bits of LA I haven’t seen.
It’s all been a bit overwhelming - the hospitality I’ve been shown, the crazy sights and sounds, the chance I’ve had to reflect on life, the universe and everything - but it’s been one of the best things I’ve ever done.
Last stop on the Grand Tour is Los Angeles and it’s positively HOT here - at least compared to the winter wonderland I’ve been in.
Prior to yesterday, I had a few days in Austin, Texas, a town steeped in history. Did you know it was named after the WWF’s “Stone Cold” Steve? I sure didn’t.
In my inimitably clueless style, I decided to forgo the airport taxi extortion racket and take advantage of Austin’s 50 cent bus system ($1 for all-you-can-travel-in-a-day). Getting downtown was fine, but the 142 bus that looked like it would take me from there to my hotel door turned out to be an express to the far northern suburbs. The crazy dude next to me took that as an opportunity to quiz me about all things Australian. He was an amateur radio operator and seemed to know a lot of place names, if nothing else about them. And he called me “mate” a lot.
Eventually I was set down in a concrete wasteland of gas stations and taco stands, with apparently no buses returning downtown. So I decided to lug my backpack about 20 blocks along the I-35 to the other Days Inn to call for a taxi.
The rest of my stay was far less chaotic, thankfully.
Arrived in New Orleans a few short hours ago, bringing to a close my amazing Southern roadtrip.
Can I give a shout-out to people from Tucker, GA? Our hosts in Athens all seemed to be from there and were some of the most delightful people I’ve ever met. The fact that they were all college kids didn’t even matter. We drank and laughed and made jokes about Holocaust drinking games and tried to spot Jeff Mangum and listened to bands in a tiny venue and shouted along to “I Believe In A Thing Called Love”. Whatever those Tucker mothers are doing - it’s something right.
Today we drove down through Alabama and Mississippi. And you know what we found on the side of the I-59? About five acres of field with nothing but trailer homes. Not even with people living in them, just the trailers.
Ahh, the South.
Continuing in my fine tradition of mooching off, I’m now joining the couchsurfing craze, where the internet matches you with someone’s couch in your destination city.
I haven’t actually joined the website, but a friend in Philly had some couch surfers with her from Athens, GA last week. We met for all of five minutes, but they seemed delightful and - since we were going to Athens anyway - we exchanged details.
This is exactly the kind of randomness that is absent from my day-to-day life. And the kind it probably needs more of.
Oh man - Danelle is now asking for photos. But she’s not getting them just yet. I need some extended time with a computer and my camera to pick out the best shots, because I’m a perfectionist. And you all love me for it.
Blogging from me has been flaky recently, I realise. But it will probably pick up now I’m away from the craziness that was Philly New Years.
Right now? I’m two days into my much-anticipated Southern road-trip, in the sleepy little Shenandoah Valley town of Harrisonburg, VA. This morning, I was in Washington DC. Our idea of visiting the various national monuments came unstuck when we came upon a small lake covered in a layer of ice. Tova and I tapped the ice with our feet from the edge, but only Tova ended up going A over T straight into the icy water. After that, it seemed better just to dry her off and hit the road!
Tomorrow we cross over into the Deep South properly. I’m expecting big things. Literally.
We went across the river to Jersey last night with some new NYC friends to the kinda-cute town of Hoboken - famous for Frank Sinatra and Yo La Tengo.
But the music we were there to see didn’t have a lot to do with crooning or indie-pop - it was the Rebirth Brass Band out of New Orleans and they killed.
Dancing to amazing swing-cum-soul-cum-latin-cum-hip-hop in a crowded, hot venue was an amazing experience. As Tova said to me “It’s like the Cat Empire, only not shit!”
