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8月22日 The Buckeye State"In the morning I woke early and experienced that sinking sensation that overcomes you when you first open your eyes and realize that instead of a normal day ahead of you, with its scatterings of simple gratifications, you are going to have a day without even the tiniest of pleasures; you are going to drive across Ohio."
Bill Bryson
8月19日 Well the Windy City is mighty prettyThe flight back from Reno to LAX was very turbulent. Luckily for me, the kid to my left was a terribly nervous traveller, and sat crying the whole time. I gave her a tissue, and she held my hand in a death-grip for a while. Poor kid. She did manage to distract me from thoughts of crashing into the Sierra Nevada Mountains though. As I sat in LAX waiting for my connection to Chicago I was passed by a Buddhist Monk, a Chasidic Jew, and a Franciscan Friar, walking so close together that they looked like bit players in one of those jokes: "Hey, did you hear the one about the Monk, the Jew, and the Priest that walk into a bar?...". The flight from LA to Chicago was long, and boring, and very uncomfortable. I had finished all my books and had read through every article in the in-flight magazine, and so had nothing to do. US Air charges for headphones, so I couldn't even listen to whatever banal form of entertainment they were showing. My only distraction came in the form of the two Jewish girls sitting opposite me, who talked in a curiously cliched mixture of English and Yiddish, and who got up every so often to read quietly from their Torahs. I didn't know that they did that. About halfway through the flight, they proceeded to produce a number of airtight containers from their bags, and make a chicken salad. They even had a rather pungent dressing, which caused heads to turn and the sky marshal to be woken up, but which reminded me of the stuff I used to eat in The Secret Garden in Bangkok (funny how Kosher cooking now reminds me of Thailand). I wonder how they got it all through security, especially the dressing.
Chicago's O'Hare airport, like airports everywhere, is under construction, apparently it always has been, and probably always will be. Stef was there to meet me and although I had seen her only three weeks before I was inordinately happy to see her again. She had booked us into an airport Holiday Day, and it wasn't long before we had dumped our bags and gone into the restaurant next door for dinner. The service was non-existent and the food was bad (my first bad meal in the US this trip), and the only thing that stopped the meal from being a total disaster was Stef's company. It's very gratifying for me to be in Stef's company, because she laughs at most of the things I say. I used to think that, like the Koreans, she did this because she was embarrassed. Now I know better, it's because she thinks I'm ridiculous.
We only really had one day in Chicago, so we were up early the next morning to take advantage of the free breakfast and ride the train into the city. I was insanely excited to see Chicago for the first time, mostly because it's the setting for one of my all-time favourite movies: The Blues Brothers, not to mention other greats like Ferris Bueller's Day Off, The Untouchables, The Fugitive, and Steven Seagal's debut Nico. Our hotel was convenient for the airport, but not really for the city - it took us over an hour to get even near it, although the closer we got, the more interesting the view of the outlying neighbourhoods became. I saw lots of old tenement buildings, some still with wooden fire escapes. Like most cities there was graffitti everywhere, but in Chicago there is a very cosmopolitan degree of vandalism with Polish, Spanish, German, Italian, and, sometimes, even English profanities scrawled on available surfaces.
Stef knew Chicago better than I did (which is to say her knowledge exceeded that which I had gleaned from the aforementioned movies) and wanted me to see all of it. She recommended we start in The Loop, and work our way out from there. The Loop is the area of downtown Chicago that contains lots of historical buildings, shops, stores, and restaurants, and it also a route on the famous El train. I was immediately struck with how beautiful Chicago is. Of course, it was a sunny day and I was with a good friend, but still, the city was clean, and prosperous looking, and the people were bustling about looking busy and generally happy. I reckoned I could live in Chicago as happily as I could live in New York, but I've heard that it's incredibly expensive (no surprise) and is becoming a commuter city, with most of the workers living far outside, and making a long daily commute.
Like an insane tourist (or a regular Korean), I took photos of everything. When we got to Lower Whacker Drive, scene of the famous pile-up toward the end of The Blues Brothers, Stef heard, for the first of many times that day, me quoting the movie in my best impersonation of Dan Ackroyd. One stop along the way had to be the Richard J. Daly Center, where there is a huge statue by Picasso in the courtyard (it's also the destination for the Blues Brothers). In the courtyard there was a farmers' market and office workers were shopping for herbs and cheeses on their lunch breaks. There was also a rally by gay veterans who were passionately discussing the debate about gays in the military, an issue that was hot news at that point.
Stef wanted to take me to The Cheesecake Factory for lunch, a prospect which I heartily endorsed. Like eejits, we decided to walk to it, instead of just riding the El. Walking to the restaurant took us the length of Michigan Avenue, which felt like we were actually walking across Michigan. Along the way we were passed by hundreds of kids all dressed like the Wicked Witch of the West - the musical Wicked was in town that week. Not long before we began to feel like we'd never find the Factory, I saw a plaque pointing the way to The Billy Goat Tavern. The Billy Goat is a sort of Chicago landmark.
As the story goes, in Game 4 of the 1945 World Series a Greek man named Billy Sianis came to Wrigley Field, home of the Chicago Cubs, to watch them play the Detroit Tigers. Billy brought along his pet goat, as you would. At first there was no problem with him bringing the goat into the stadium, he did, after all, have two tickets. However, part-way through the game he was ejected from the stadium because the goat stank. Outraged, he put a curse on the club saying that the Cubs would never win another pennant, nor even play a World Series game at Wrigley Field. Thus began the longest World Series-drought in Major League history. Attempts have been made to break the curse, and even to reverse it, with varying degrees of success. In any case, the Tavern that once belonged to Billy Sianis (he died in 1970) became a Chicago landmark, and was also the inspiration for the famous Saturday Night Live sketch "Cheezborger Cheezborger Cheezborger", in which John Belushi, Dan Ackroyd, Bill Murray, and Loraine Newman impersonate Billy Sianis and his gruff partner who originally ran the restaurant.
I wanted to eat there, simply to see the place, but we (foolishly?) decided to press on and find the Factory. Eventually we did find it, and it was worth the wait. We got a booth by the window, and sat down for lunch. It was difficult to decide what to order, simply because we were spoiled for choice. Both of us would have happily forsaken lunch for multiple slices of cake, but decided to be healthy, order lunch-size portions of "proper food", and then have the cake for dessert. The size of the lunch portions would have been considered a big dinner serving in Ireland, and we struggled to get through them. People who ordered regular portions sat amazed as platters, literally platters, of food were delivered to their tables. Everyone who left the restaurant carried a doggy bag, most took cheesecake home too. Is it any wonder obesity levels are what they are here? For dessert Stef ordered a chocolate-Kahlua cheesecake, which was as decadent and delicious as it sounds. I had a slice that was half-apple pie, half-caramel cheesecake, and it was scrumptous. Loosening our belts and struggling to breath, we left the restaurant and walked toward Loyola University. We didn't really bother to look around Loyola, but the Church that serves the campus was very beautiful.
We arrived at the Art Institute of Chicago a little before 5 p.m. Outside a man was selling newspapers to raise money for the homeless. I bought one, and was pleasantly surprised to discover that my $1 got me not only the newspaper, but a bit of tourist trivia too. Firstly he told us to wait until after 5 p.m. because then the Institute would be free to enter. Then he asked us if we knew where we were; pointing back down the street from which we had come, he pointed out a roadsign, posted very high on a telegraph pole, which read "Begin - Historic Route 66", apparently we had walked along the official starting point of that famous road! Then he directed our attention to a restaurant across from the AIC and told us that the creators of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles had been having lunch there one day and trying to decide what to name their cartoon creations; looking across at the AIC, they found their inspiration, for all around the top of the facade are engraved the names of the great masters - Leonardo Da Vinci, Donatello, Michaelangelo, Raphael. So it is that scores of kids now associate these names, not with art, but with wise-cracking, pizza-munching, crime-fighting heroes in a half-shell. He ended his little spiel with his tried and trusted phrase "Now you can tell people that you got your kicks at the beginning of Route 66!".
To kill the time until the AIC was free Stef and I walked down the street toward Lake Michigan. We arrived at Buckingham Fountain, a hugely ornate working water fountain (thank God, for there are few sights more depressing than a dry fountain in the middle of a city). All around were tourists and families and locals, eating ice-cream, playing chess, throwing Frisbees. Behind us on a traffic island stood a massive statue of a Native American on horseback, with a bow and arrow in hand, poised and ready to fire. In front of us Lake Michigan stretched out ahead us, blue and calm and looking as large as the ocean itself. The Chicago skyline, perhaps not as famous as Manhattan but certainly as beautiful (and not as crowded) shone in the evening sun.
Back at the AIC I was deeply disappointed to discover that Edward Hopper's Nighthawks was on loan to Boston; I love that painting and would have loved to see it up close. The friendly lady behind the counter tried to console us by suggesting we take in their special exhibition of Japanese art, not realising she was talking to two people that had definitely had their fill of Asian art! Instead we made our way to the American galleries, where we saw the famous American Gothic, as we all some powerful Winslow Homer paintings, and some beautiful pieces by Georgia O'Keefe. They also have a marvellous collection of statues of Abraham Lincoln, cowboys, and Native Americans. Exhausted, and in dire need of a beer, we quickly left and headed in the direction of Navy Pier.
Navy Pier is a huge boardwalk area with restaurants, bars, stores, amusements, cruise ships, and a ferris wheel. It was to this last that we directed our footsteps, and our timing couldn't have been better. The sun was setting as we reached the top of the wheel, and the views - with Lake Michigan behind us, and the skyline in front of us - were spectacular. Chicago was winding down for the day as the buildings were lighting up, and we felt very relaxed. We had managed to see a lot of the city, and the day wasn't over. One of the restaurants at Navy Pier is the Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. - a Forrest Gump-themed place with lots of merchandise for sale, and TVs on which they show that movie 24/7. Not wanting to eat, we took seats at the bar and struck up conversation with the bartender. Being a local, he was able to give us some more advice about what we should do when we left the bar. Being friendly, he insisted we drink all the drinks that he "poured by mistake". As pleasant (and probably wise) as it would've been to stay there all evening and drink free beer, Stef and I had other things in mind.
Leaving the Bubba Gump, we stopped into a wine store where earlier we had found some of Stef's favourite beer: Coopers Pale Ale from Australia; being a gentleman, and an idiot, I offered to carry it for her as we made our way back to The Billy Goat for supper. Having walked the length of Michigan Avenue earlier in the day, we thought that we could find the Goat with no problem. We were wrong. Twice we had to stop in to stores to use the bathroom and ask for directions, both times the people were less than sure about the location of the Goat. Eventually, on the point of giving up, a homeless man approached us to ask if we were lost. Naturally he knew exactly where the Goat was, and was able to give us very clear directions. As the it turns out, the Goat is located on Lower Whacker Drive. Lower means that it's literally lower than the rest of the city, a sort of underground section of road and girders and beams holding up the rest of Chicago. Walking around, looking very much like lost tourists, the only people we saw were junkies and ladies pushing shopping carts full of crap. Entering the Goat, it was almost like a scene in a movie when the record stops and everyone turns to look at you. Clearly, tourists were not really welcome here anymore - I guess too many people have come in to ask for a Cheezborger. Service was less than friendly, and Stef almost got slapped for trying to pay with a credit card. Handing over fistfulls of cash, I sat down and we gobbled our (not too bad) cheeseburgers and beer. Before things got really ugly, we left.
The subway on the way back to the hotel was full of Mexicans returning from the soccer game; they had won, and so were in great spirits. Stef and I were exhausted, and dozed most of the way home. We were almost the only people to get off the train at the airport - the last stop - and we discovered that the shuttle to our hotel had already stopped for the night. I bribed the driver of another shuttle to take us home, and it wasn't long before we were collapsing into our beds, with dreams of goats and junkies and mutated turtles to entertain us through the night.
8月17日 Just a hunka hunka burnin' love?I'm an Elvis fan. As a child, I suffered for being an Elvis fan. Kids used to make fun of me. Bigger kids. I stuck with The King in spite of all that. However, this story takes the biscuit:
8月16日 Reno: The Biggest Little City In The WorldThe last time I came to Reno, things were very different. I had spent the summer working for my uncles - framing houses under the Carolina sun from 6 a.m. until around 2 p.m., gruelling, backbreaking, thankless work. By the time I got to Reno, I was in serious need of a laugh and a beer. Luckily, Eamonn is the sort to readily provide both. Back then, he and Rosie and a bunch of their friends had moved to Reno for one year to study at UNR. Most of us were under 21, which meant we couldn't really go into the casinos, and getting served in bars was difficult. Now of course Reno was one stop on my tour of the US and I was in highspirits, while Eamonn and Rosie were PhD students. I hadn't seen Eamonn in almost two years, but it was as if hardly any time had gone by. He and his girlfriend Rosie have a beautiful apartment just outside the city - it's big and bright, and it looks as if they've lived in it forever. Eamonn let me get settled into their guestroom while he went to make coffee; we took it on the balcony, overlooking one of the complex's swimming pools, and caught up on each other's news. It pleased me no end to hear that my old schoolmate was doing so well in his career, although I could hardly follow the nature of his work and research! When Eamonn returned to work, I checked my e-mail and went for a swim in the icy waters of the pool.
Eamonn and Rosie returned at lunch and, no doubt in an effort to make me feel at home, took me for Vietnamese food. I took no end of stick from Eamonn for showing off by thanking the waitress in Vietnamese. Later that evening some friends of theirs and some of the new students from Ireland came over for burgers and beers, again on the balcony. We sat chatting until after it got dark, and in the back of my mind I had the thought of how nice it is to live in a place where the weather cooperates throughout large parts of the year, so that you can actually eat comfortably outside in the evenings. Moving inside, Eamonn bored the new arrivals to Reno by showing pictures of my first visit there, when we had all rented a minivan and driven to San Francisco for the weekend. I didn't know whether to be ashamed or proud that I was wearing the same shorts back then that I had on me that night.
I got into a nice routine in Reno: I'd get up shortly after they left for work, make coffee, then upload photos and e-mail people until we all went for lunch. Some days I went swimming, but the water was so cold that it was no fun alone. They were kind enough to loan me a car and a cellphone while I was there, so I had the option to pop down into the city if I felt like it.
One night we decided to go to the Rodeo. None of us had ever been to one before, or knew what to expect. I don't think any of us had ever seen a rodeo outside of those shows with names like "When Animals Strike Back!". The Reno Rodeo is a big deal, with cowboys coming in from all over the country. There were more stetsons and boots in the ring than I'd ever seen in one place, and most of the men sported belt buckles bigger than my face. Like baseball, rodeo can appear quite boring on TV - usually you're waiting for some action, which in rodeo terms means someone getting gored by the bull. In real life however, it can be quite fascinating. For one thing the arena was full of families all having a good time. You could get beer, but no one appeared to be drunk. There was also plenty of food, of the deep-fried and bbq variety. Like every other event in the country, we started off with a rendition of the national anthem. Then some cowgirl who had served in the Middle East rode in on her horse carrying the flag. Then they had a prayer to thank the Lord that we could all be there that evening watching guys ride bulls, and to pray for others who were serving overseas to provide the freedom to sit there watching guys ride bulls.
Riders in the rodeo have to stay on the bull for something like 8 seconds, which doesn't sound like much, but it is. Most of the riders managed it, or very close to it, so I couldn't understand how they are judged. Apparently it has something to do with the way they ride the bull, like if they bounce up and down in the saddle too much or something. In any case, we found ourselves cheering for each and every rider, simply because we were in awe on them - anyone who can stay on a bull for even 4 seconds deserves a prize, and a strait jacket for wanting to do it. During the intermission a bunch of kids are allowed into the arean, wearing football helmets, and they let them ride sheep - the kid that stays on the longest wins. It was hilarious, and demented.
When it was all over they opened a beer tent complete with bar-dancing cowgirls and Kenny Chesney songs. Waiting to order, I somehow caught the attention of the cowgirl nearest to me who proceeded to do a sort of lap dance on my head. I'm sure it sounded like a dream come true, but it wasn't, and it made me glad that I don't have the sorts of friends that ever thought it would be a good idea to hire a stripper for my birthday. When it was all over I didn't know if I should pull her off the bar and give her a stern talking to, or be polite and slip a $1 into her leather chaps. Instead I did neither, but took her photo on the way out.
On Friday Eamonn got off work early and took me to a microbrewery for lunch. We weren't hungry, so instead took our calories in liquid form. There are so many microbreweries popping up in the US these days that it amazes me to think anyone is still drinking Bud Light. We each ordered sampler trays, and enjoyed all of the beers immensely. Before we knew it though it was time to get Rosie from work (in actual fact we were late, having really caught up on each other's news - the beer helped loosen our tongues!) and we went for dinner to yet another microbrewery. This time we did eat, as we had a long night ahead of us. A friend of theirs from Ireland was playing at one of Reno's many Irish bars, and we were going along to watch. The bar itself wasn't very Irish but the crowd certainly was - it was as if the entire 3rd year science class from Queen's University had upped and moved to Reno. The music was good too.
On Saturday Eamonn's boss was throwing a belated wedding party at Lake Tahoe. Having only ever flown over the Lake I was quite excited to actually see it, and I was not to be disappointed. The water is a beautiful deep blue, and the sun bounces off it into the distance, where the snow still lies on the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Some of the bravers members of the company, including Eamonn, went for a swim in the icy waters of the Lake, I had a bit of sense and so stayed on shore drinking beer. In the evening we discovered that there was a drive-in movie complex in the city, and we headed there to see Knocked-Up. I didn't particularly enjoy the movie, although the drive-in experience was cool. We sat in deck chairs with our blankets and coffee, watching the movie on a huge screen, and listening to it through the car radios. It was very cheap too, I think $6, which is cheaper than any other movie theatre I've been to, and that was a for a double feature - Pirates of the Caribbean 3 was showing afterwards.
On Sunday Rosie made us a proper Sunday lunch - the first I'd had in 18 months - complete with Yorkshire pudding and roast beef. For dessert Eamonn served homemade Smores from his grill. It was a great afternoon. We drove around downtown that evening, getting some pictures of the casinos at night. My last two days in Reno were spent roaming around the downtown area, where they've created a pleasant riverwalk along the riverbank. The evening before I left we all went to a casino for a buffet, and ate way more than was good for us.
I had a pretty excellent time in Reno, and I was very glad to be able to travel there and see my friends again. Hopefully Eamonn and Rosie will be home at Christmas, and I'll have the chance to repay them in kind. As sad as I was to be leaving Eamonn, I was off to Chicago - a new city - and to see Stef! 8月15日 Leaving L.A. and returning to RenoOn our return from Las Vegas Tom and I stopped in 29 Palms, the town that has grown-up around the US Marine base where Tom is stationed. The nickname for the town is "An Oasis of Murals", because on every available gable is painted some mural or other, usually relating to the US Marines who live and serve in the town, but also that show some aspect of life in the desert. It was slightly bizarre to be in the middle of the Mojave and be surrounded by huge murals of men in camoflage holding big guns, and I'm from Belfast.
The following day, Tom was on duty so I drove into Palm Springs to mail some stuff home, check my e-mail, and have another look around. One convenient aspect of life in PS is that parking on the streets is free, something you don't find in most American cities these days. I stopped into a coffee house to use the internet; the owner, a Syrian, knew Tom and was very pleased to have a friend of the father's in his store - he treated me to some sinfully sweet baklava while I drank my coffee and used his seriously-overpriced internet connection ($10 per hour!). I walked around Palm Springs for a while, popping into various little stores, buying postcards, and greeting people on the street. Palm Springs has the convenience of the big city, with the welcoming ambience of a small town, that's if you have the money and right background though.
On my last day in California, Tom decided it would be best if we spent the night in Laguna Beach, which was much closer to LAX than his Palm Springs apartment. Laguna Beach is one of the most affluent areas in the country - just driving around I saw more foreign cars than I think I've ever seen in the US. We had a delicious dinner overlooking the Pacific in the Hotel Laguna, a wonderful old hotel which is probably older than most American cities. Over dinner, Tom and I talked about all manner of subjects, and I realised at the end of the night, as much as I was looking forward to moving on and seeing other friends and my family, I would've quite happily stayed on there a little bit longer. Having spent my last few weeks in Asia feeling rather homesick, after a week in the US I realised I felt rather at home.
I was up early the next morning to catch the Airport Shuttle to LAX. Many of the airlines at LAX are introducing machines that allow you to check-in without seeing an agent. This is a great idea, as long as you don't have any baggage, have a confirmation number for your flight, and don't have a complicated Irish name. Unfortunately, I had a bag to check, I never get a confirmation number from Expedia when I buy tickets, and my last name befuddles even the most advanced computer at an airport. None the less, the lady in charge of the herds at the airport insisted I stand in line, outside the terminal, and wait to use a machine. Of course the machine wouldn't let me check-in, like I knew it wouldn't, and I ended up standing in another line to see an agent.
My confidence in Alaska Airlines wasn't boosted when I saw the plane we would be travelling on - it had rotors on the outside! Now I'm sure this is perfectly safe, but the only time I've actually seen the rotors on the outside of a plane has been in an Indiana Jones movie. However, the crew on-board the plane were incredibly friendly from the start, and dressed as they were in shorts, poloneck t-shirts, and sneakers, I figured I'd at least enjoy the last flight of my life. The flight turned out to be rather smooth, and our captain was the sort who likes to keep his passengers posted about where in the sky they are. As we were flying over some of the most beautiful and diverse landscape in the country - LA, Sierra Nevada Mountains, Lake Tahoe - I was only too happy to look out the window and watch the ground below, even if I could see the rotorblades turning a mile a minute.
Although I had been to Reno before, I had forgotten that baggage claim is the last thing you do before you leave. So it was that I found myself walking past my old friend Eamonn as he stood patiently waiting for me at the gate. Never one to shy away from public displays of affection, Eamonn lifted me off the ground in a huge bearhug, which I took as a sign that he had seen the plane through the window and was surprised I had made it alive. I was back in Reno, Nevada. 8月14日 Cafe NervosaHaving spent most of my waking hours between the ages of 15 and 19 behind the bar at a coffee house, it's a wonder that I'm even alive:
8月13日 PostSecretAbout a month ago Britt and I went to a Sunday service at the Purdue Campus House with Stef. During the service, the pastor mentioned the PostSecret website. I've been checking back every Sunday to read the updates, and they've just posted this video. I think it's an interesting and cool project, whether or not the secrets are made-up or not.
8月9日 Battle of the SexesThis evening Stef and I played some boardgames with her father and his wife. One of the games was Battle Of The Sexes. I'd never heard of it before, and to be honest, I think it sucks, but we had fun playing it.
The object of the game is to advance your pawns across the board, the first team to reach the other side wins. The guys ask the girls questions about subjects that only guys are supposed to know about, like football, home repairs, and music, and vice versa. The guys won tonight, but only by a fluke - there are certain wildcards that allow you to advance, or force you to return to the start - the girls were unlucky enough to pick a card that forced them back to the beginning. If it hadn't been for that wildcard, the girls would've won, because they knew more about the supposedly-male subjects than we knew about the alleged female subjects.
While I didn't really like the game, it did cause me to think about this issue, about how the lines between male and female pursuits and interests has blurred - but mostly only on one side (can a line blur on only one side? I guess that's badly phrased. Perhaps I should explain.)
When it came to questions of sport, Stef knew plenty about football - a traditionally male dominated pastime. In the same way, the questions on music were about things like grunge and heavy metal, which I really wouldn't have assigned to one sex or the other. I suppose if I had to I would associate heavy metal with guys, but I don't think you'd get a bunch of girls claiming to hate heavy metal in the same way that you'd have a bunch of guys insist that they can't stand the ballet! Likewise, Stef's stepmom knew plenty about home repairs, and TV, and other themes that she "shouldn't" have!
On the other hand, when it came our turn to answer, we were forced to guess on more than one occasion. Questions about fabrics, fashion, food, and cosmetics had us stumped! I've never felt more like a caveman in all my life!
So it would seem that, while it's OK for girls to follow football, it's not alright, or at least it's not as accessible, for a guy to follow fashion. That's hardly an enlightened statement, or attitude, but it's about the only interesting thing I could say about that boardgame. PhotosOk folks. I realise I haven't been very good at updating this since arriving in the US, but it's just that I've been having the time of my life here and haven't been bothered to sit at the computer and write about it! Now that I'm back in Indiana for the third time (definitely up there with phrases I never thought I'd hear myself say) I should have more time to post some travel stories, although with all the tractor pulls and weddings lined up, I can't make any promises.
In any case, should you wish to see what I've been doing rather than read about it, click these links and look at some photos on my Flickr site (they're also here on the blog, but I think the technology is too much for some people, so I'm giving y'all some options!).
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