My first experience with HAMPTON INNS was in Montgomery, Alabama and what a terrific experience!
The staff were very warm and yet very professional, in every part of the hotel. Quint, the hotel receptionist, was most effusive and informative about Montgomery. His eatery recommendation was spot on, the Texas Roadhouse. Every question, every request was met with the same enthusiasm and affable graciousness which seemed to be pervasive throughout the southern USA, south from Knoxville, TN.
Breakfast at the HAMPTON INN was a surprise in its selection, its freshness, its variety. At the Montgomery-Eastchase, it was made particularly appetizing because of the efficiency of Ms. Mona. She was wonderfully gracious in her "Good morning!" greetings to each guest breakfasting in 'her' dining room. You really felt that Ms. Mona was, in the words of another Tennessean, 'taking care of business!'
I don't normally write promos of any hotel but in the southern USA, I found a number of hotels to be much more personable and caring about their clientele than hotels in the northern USA and in Canada. The HAMPTON INNS are just great offering all kinds of extras: free parking, free Internet, free hot breakfasts, fresh fruit selections, hot coffee and tea throughout the day, clean, spacious rooms, complimentary toiletries if forgotten, ironing boards, HD TV with free cable and I probably have forgotten a few other things. AC is individually room controlled, bedding is high count cotton fibre, just super!
Finally, HAMPTON INNS offer guests the opprotunity of becoming a Hilton Honors member entitling one to bonus points applicable to room stays, gifts and so on, not to mention that they also offer stay incentives for every so many stays.
I have stayed with the HAMPTON INNS in every city south of Knoxville except in New Orleans where I chose a very historical, traditionally famous hotel. I will be staying with HAMPTON INNS a lot from now on in my tour.
Almost every American male I met when asked "Do you own a gun?" replied, "Sure do," said with great pride and with a quizzical look. Quizzical in that it seemed a silly question. I should know better. In the USA, to own a gun is almost the same as eating three meals a day. No, wait, likely the majority of Americans do not eat that way.
While in Montgomery, I talked with Quint, a 29 year old male hotel receptionist, who gladly showed me his permit to carry a firearm, as if it were a fishing license, except it meant he was allowed to carry a pistol wherever he went, maybe hidden, but on his person for certain.
When I asked Quint if he practiced shooting, he replied, "Sho' do, but not much here in Montgomery. Mo' at home further out in the country where I kin shoot in mah backyawd. Caint do that in 'Gomery." For a Canadian, this is amazing, particularly so as I have never owned a gun in my life and can't imagine having one.
Talking to one woman in a Smoky Mountain bistro, I heard her defend gun ownership saying, "It is the best guarantee of personal security. Nobody is going to bother you if they know you have a gun. A burglar isn't going to become dangerously violent if he knows you have a gun in the house." No, he may not, but for certain the probability of someone being shot sure increases when the householder owns a gun.
But, I do not want to become judgmental or critical of Americans. They seem to have so much...if you watch TV. But American TV is lying to you, in every way. Most Americans aren't as nice looking as the people on TV. Most Americans are more 'plain Jane' in looks, and definitely more overweight than anyone you see on TV. Americans don't have as much as you would be led to believe by TV. The cities I visited so far, Pittsburgh, Knoxville, Montgomery, Biloxi, New Orleans, Jackson, Memphis and Nashville, all seemed to be suffering economically; their downtowns with many boarded up windows, "For Lease/Rent" signs, and "Out of business" notices. Sure, there is a portion of downtown which is 'hopping' on Friday and Saturday nights, especially in New Orleans and Nashville. But those are tourist towns; I was on tour; it was summer time, good weather. But leave that downtown 'booming' section and you would see that businesses were suffering. I even saw an entire hotel boarded up and up for sale 'as is' in Memphis. Incredible !
I am not sure how right I may be but in Europe where I have seen poverty or high unemployment, I heard crime rate was high. In Memphis, the downtown hotel where I stayed had uniformed security stationed at the hotel entrance. In Nashville, the Catholic Cathedral, 'The Cathedral of the Incarnation,' had an armed police officer standing at the back of the church. He explained that "the homeless sometimes become very aggressive and even walk right up to the altar during mass." This is all in what one would consider a 'good' part of town adjacent to Vanderbilt University. The entrance doors to the hotel in Memphis's downtown are all 'entry by hotel key pass only.'
The Tribune-Picayune, a New Orleans daily, headlined a story about American violent crime ranking New Orleans as the worst of the top 15 violent crime cities in the US. I asked a cop in a Jackson, Mississippi squad car if he agreed. Almost with pride, he replied, "Are you kidding! Jackson beats New Orleans in that regard, by far!"
Traveling the southern and central USA, I am beginning to feel like the United States' "Wild west, gunslinger days" are being revived and the sheriff has deputies riding shotgun all over. This picture may not be totally accurate. In fact, I may be far of the mark, but pass keys to enter a hotel, pass keys to enter hotel elevators, security guards at hotel entrances, squad cars, not just one or two, but pairs, many pairs, parked in the intersections of the down town core where people were partying....
They even have the deputies on horseback...the wild west???
We take a lot of everyday things for granted in North America. Do you think about how your OJ got to your table in the long run? How about the toast you had for breakfast this morning? The coffee? The eggs? And your stockings? Your tshirt? The chair you're sitting on? The paint on the walls around you? The glass or cup you have in your hand?
Each of those things was transported in some way by a truck, a ship, a van, a semi and every one of those hauling vehicles were dependent on OIL.
Traveling the American highways on my tour, I am amazed at the convoys of semi's barreling along beside me, in front of me, and behind me. Every where I have gone, there they are, every day and every day light hour. All using OIL. I talked with one of these transport drivers for a bit one day at a rest stop. They also have to stop, not just to rest, but are mandated to do so by laws and regulations and union by-laws. They are permitted to drive non-stop for just so many hours. They must not exceed a certain number of hours in a day. They must log all their driving times in meticulously kept logs which are monitored by the company for whom they are driving. I think that these drivers are also monitored by others in order to ensure safer driving, safer for the driver himself or herself (there are many female drivers now days) and for other drivers who are also sharing the same roadways as these rigs. And all of them are using OIL.
I have toured Canada, the United States and Mexico and the same picture can be seen in regard to hauling trucks. Busy, busy, busy, non-stop shipping during day time hours and unimaginable consumption of barrels of OIL.
Try to imagine how much OIL is being consumed on a daily basis. Look around, look at all the vehicles on the road: passenger cars, motorcycles, trucks, semi's, buses, RV's, what have I missed. And many of these vehicles are doing long hauls, covering long distances, in the case of tranport semi's, trying to cover as long distances as they legally can. All of these vehicles in some way, are burning up OIL.
North Americans live on OIL.
Now that Gulf OIL spill is obviously a disaster, how much so is too early to tell. In the southern USA, the beaches along the Louisiana coast are just now being hit by patches of the oil sludge. The marshlands, home to so much wildlife, birds, marsh creatures, and marsh waters animals are just now starting to feel the impact of the oil spill. Photos of pelicans trying to shake off oil from their feathers are now appearing on the front pages of New Orleans daily papers. The state government is launching desparate measures to block the environment attack of the oil on the coasts of Louisiana. They are hoping that sand blockades can be set up to prevent the oil from seeping into the deeper parts of the marshland. This is an indescribable catastrophe. BP, British Petroleum, changes its estimates as to the volume of OIL that is spewing up from the ocean floor, almost daily. 50,000 barrels, 100,000...possibly 750,000 barrels to date. This will undoubtedly be the worst OIL catastrophe ever. The EXXON Valdeez was nothing compared to this, a flea on the back of a huge elephant, a minnow on the back of a Blue sperm whale.
Is it affecting us yet? You bet it is. In a sea food restaurant in BILOXI, Mississippi, hand written signs were posted on the doors and walls notifying patrons that a $1 surcharge was being applied to all sea food items on the menu. The explanation given for this was that the sea foods are now being shipped from farther away as contaminants are being found in some of the gulf's marine life foods. Soon, the oyster beds off the Louisiana coast will be ruined. Shrimp will be contaminated and no more eating of the crab and crawfish.
Big OIL, BP, has really screwed up on the catastrophe. But rather than placing blame, how can we deal with this disaster? How will we pay for it? Who will pay the full bill for it? How do we ensure that such disasters never occur again? We will pay dearly for this catastrophe...and how much? It is too soon to tell.
NEW ORLEANS Voodoo black magic vs. my Canadian MOJO…read who wins !
I have been writing about my touring the Southern and Central, USA and about the jinx that I believe New Orleans is experiencing. Well, it is beginning to rub off on me, the black voodoo magic of New Orleans.
First, my net book crashed. All photos, all anecdotes, all written articles, poof! Out somewhere in cyberspace. Now, I have some computer savvy, and do not travel unprepared. So, I have brought computer recovery CD's but I need a portable CD drive. My visit to Best Buy yielded these results.
“$150 to diagnose the problem, sir,” said the techie, adding, “and no guarantees for the cost could increase depending what they do. $149 to use your recovery disks and do the installation for you.” I expressed my amazement at the high cost with no guarantees. Seeing an older man near to tears, the techie took some pity on me and said, “I have a tip for you. Buy a portable drive, $50 with a 15 day no questions asked return policy. So better for you to do the work yourself.”
I bought the drive and asked another techie to cut off the plastic extrusion in which the drive was packaged. Homeland Security should use this stuff at the borders where they have illegals sneaking into the country. The border would be impenetrable. As the extrusion is transparent, the scenic views would still be beautiful panoramas.
Well, I hooked up the drive to the net book, put in Disk 1, pressed enter and listened to the damn little drive whirl away without doing anything.
SCORE: New Orleans voodoo: 1, SzpinMOJO: 0
Next, as I am about to ride off, I try to key in my next destination into the GPS unit. Prompted for the state, I type out ‘Louisiana’ and the unit rejects it repeating the same request for a state name. A couple more attempts and poof, GPS unit crashes, and now is of no use. I am lost. The spaghetti jumble of roads in most American cities could be a horrendous puzzle, unsolvable while riding and trying to remember a memorized map layout. The maddening thing is that I just had the unit overhauled before this tour and the servicing company in Montreal company told me that I getting a new replacement unit as the old one was not reparable.
I remember the convoluted roadwork of Pittsburgh, they should rename it pretzel Pittsburgh-- for the roads around the downtown core are so twisted and twirled they would make a soft pretzel manufacturer proud enough to copy and duplicate the design on their products.
Computerless, I could not visit the GPS manufacturer’s web site. Using the hotel’s public computer, I got a toll free number so I would be able to phone the manufacturer the next day.
SCORE: New Orleans voodoo:2, SzpinMOJO: 0
Things were not looking up. But now came the next crash.
I like to check in with the “boss” nightly, or at each newly reached location. I picked up the hotel room phone, dialed 9-1-area code and home number only to be greeted with a surprising message that “This number is no longer in service.” I must have misdialed. I tried again, the message was repeated. I now figured I needed to try another dialing configuration. 9-0 should give me the operator. Shocking silence. I now resorted to a simple ‘0’ and the man from the hotel front desk answered.
“Oh, I was trying to get the operator.”
"I am the operator," the front desk clerk replied.
“No, no, the telephone operator. You know, the one who responds to dialing 0.”
“We don’t have such service here, sir,” came his surprising response.
“Look, I just want to phone my wife, back home in Canada,” I blurted out.
“Oh, that’s an overseas call, sir. You need to dial, 9-1011-area code and your number,” he explained as if talking to a pioneer who had never heard of a telephone device.
“Canada is just north of the USA, sir,” I explained rather hopelessly at this point.
Two failed attempts later, which I expected, I again called the front desk man about my most recent failures.
“I’ll come up to your room to help you, sir,” he replied making me feeling like a total incompetent.
A phone, for heaven’s sake. I have been using a phone for so long, I called Alexander Graham Bell, ‘Alex.’
The hotel desk clerk knocked on my door, upon entry, walked over to the phone and smugly dialed as he had told me too. Ha! He got the same results and I almost cheered except for the fact that I still had no phone use.
“I will have to call the manager and see what she can do about this,” he said, “meanwhile, I suggest you buy a phone card, sir.”
“How?” I asked rather glumly.
“On the Internet, sir.” he said. Oh man !
SCORE: New Orleans voodoo: 3, SzpinMOJO: 0
Meanwhile, I now remembered that I had a cell phone on the bike and began praying to the powers that be that the battery had enough power to make a short call. Now, let me tell you I have a system called ‘roaming’ on my phone. I have no idea what it means and have never made a call using it.
The cell phone beeped into life, and I dialed 1-area code-home number only to hear robotic voice announce “That number is not valid.” Not a good sign. I was about to collapse in tears right there in the parking lot but I am a determined sort and took one more stab at dialing but this time, I just dialed as if the number were a local call. Eureka, it worked!
“Hi boss, let me tell you the latest news….”
SCORE: New Orleans voodoo: 3, SzpinMOJO: 1
It is a wonder what a good night’s sleep can to do for brain cell recovery for the next morning I had an idea as to what I was doing wrong in trying to restore my computer to default settings as at first set up. Changing the boot sequence to boot from the portable drive was the answer. Less than an hour later, I was back to a working computer, but more importantly, I had an option to protect all my data which got backed up safely on the computer’s hard drive. Hooray!!!
SCORE: New Orleans voodoo: 3, SzpinMOJO: 2…now were talking !
Phone issue, resolved. Computer restoration, resolved. I was on a roll. Lunching in the hotel bar, I decided to ‘Skype’ phone the GPS manufacturer. This means using the computer to make the phone call. A couple of wrinkles not worth mentioning, and I finally connected with a GPS techie named Mike. Now, I am in a hotel bar talking to my net book as if it is an oversized phone, but it is all working. Then, Mike throws me a curve.
“Can you turn on the unit, sir?” he asks pleasantly.
“Not unless I have telekinesthetic powers," I replied. I explained I was talking to him via computer in a bar.
“Well, sir, you need to turn the unit on,” he persisted. I unplugged the computer power and now walked through the hotel lobby and atrium, all the while talking to my net book like some computer geek umbilically tied to his computer. I got to the bike. Luckily, the GPS can be powered up independent of the bike and it did so perfectly.
“Go to Tools, options, sir,” the techie said, adding, “How many maps do you see being used, sir?”
“Two, Mikee!” I replied, warming to the skill and confidence this techie was showing.
“Take out the MEXICO card, sir,” he instructed.
My reply was that I could only do this if I got a certain screw driver from my tool kit back in the room but then, an insight. Even us older riders have these on occasion. I thought removing the check mark in front of the MEXICO map would have the same effect as removing the card.
“Let’s try it again sir, try entering a state,” he directed. ‘Louisiana’…bingo, it worked. ‘Ontario’…bingo again.
SCORE: New Orleans voodoo: 3, SzpinMOJO: 3 … tied game !!!
Ok New Orleans…we are ready for the next voodoo challenge. I’m on a real roll and the Canadian MOJO is a match for ya !!
A few years back, "the boss" and I planned to visit New Orleans. Katrina beat us to it and delayed our visit to this year. Now, the Gulf Oil spill hit...and it has affected towns all along the coast. I was in a seafood bar today for oysters and shrimp. Their hand written notice said "$1 surcharge on all seafood items due to Gulf Oil Spill." When I asked for an explanation, I was told 'to cover the additional expense of long distance transportation for the shrimp, oysters, and crawfish which now must be transported from Atlantic coasted states like South Carolina." Well, the bad luck of New Orleans has now rubbed on me. Today, my netbook crapped out on me. I hadn't done anything different than any other time except travelled to Biloxi, closer to New Orleans. Trying to boot up in the hotel ended in failure with the computer demanding the Windows setup disk which is at home. Best Buy could not assist easily or fast, so, really bad news now, I may have to try a Best Buy in NEW ORLEANS and the young technician fears that all the data on the puter may be lost. Think that's enough....nooo way ! I have my Garmin Zumo, which is motorcycle adapted, repaired before departure. Today, it crapped out also. It will not recognize any state or province requested. This means that no city anywhere can be searched, no address, no location. I am totally screwed as I depend on the GPS unreservedly. The cities I have been travelling have a spaghetti network of streets entering and leaving them...trying to get around using maps would be absolutely impossible. I am in a quandry as to what to do about this but I fear that I may have to purchase another unit. My preliminary inquiries resulted in that no such unit can be located handily in the New Orleans area. It can be ordered but not delivered at an early enough date for me. I am beginning to think this New Orleans jinx is expanding. Lastly, I was very lucky in Dahlonega to meet up with the owner of the Smith House, Chris Welch. And when I mentioned that I had not seen the gold mine shaft which is in the hotel, he gladly took me to see it. Of course, the photos "may" be on the camera still but this trip, I have done something new. After backing up the photo to my netbook, I would erase from the camera card. Let's hope I have not been as efficient as I can be. My apologies to the Smith House as it is quite exciting to see the way they have set up the viewing area of this gold mine shaft so tourists, visitors can enjoy a little bit of gold mining history and nostalgia. There are artifacts found in the shaft, the shaft itself, a number of historic photos and an award winning DVD video about the gold mining saga of Dahlonega. Chris Welch beams with pride in explaining about the historic site for you is a descendent of original miners/settlers of the town and this site. Now, when I reach New Orleans tomorrow, I will have to go look for a voodoo magic practitioner and see if I can get some sort of protective cloak to defend me against the black magic surrounding and connected with New Orleans.
My tour south has taken me through many American states: NEW YORK, PENNSYLVANIA, WEST VIRGINIA, OHIO, TENNESSEE, GEORGIA, and ALABAMA, so far. More to come. However, I have noticed something about the people as I've gone further and further into "Dixie" and even further south; the people are friendlier down south, more outgoing, more jovial, more 'devil may care' in attitude. They aren't necessarily lackadaisical, or careless, or such, just more easy going, more laid back, more relaxed. And again, not California style, but in a style all their own. Some examples of what I mean...
KNOXVILLE, TN Executive Sous Chef Kenny Burlew will brand the Knoxville Marriott's Hill St. Cafe on my memory with his culinary creations and his endless raconteurship about the south. He treated me to numerous dishes and introduced me to bourbon on the rocks, 100 proof...wow, as potent as his dishes.
The WAFFLE HOUSE, UNION CITY, GA
I stopped at this fast food diner for a late morning breakfast. As I walked in, I saw it was not too busy, and so the 3 waitresses, and 1 grill man, all blacks, were kibitzing with each other, laughing, giggling and being happy about the day, not at all bored with their job or their work.
AM/PM GAS BAR, UNION CITY, GA I was pumping gas into my bike, when this black man, about 75 or so, approached me and commented that I was a long way from home. Then, he began a conversation with me about riding, about his dream to still try out riding, though he cautioned, not the distance I was touring.
TEXAS ROADHOUSE, MONTGOMERY, AL This one was the clincher. I went into what I thought was a typical roadhouse diner. My expectations: glorified fast food, bar service of draft beer and cocktails, a typical American roadside restaurant. Well, 'ya gotta get past the cover of every book you touch.' This was no typical roadside restaurant. I negotiated with 'Summer,' the 20 yr old (I guess) bartender over my menu selection. I just wanted a salad and a single piece of southern fried chicken (Is it all like KFC?) To cut to the quick, she steered me into having a dinner salad with chicken critters on the side for she felt it would be the closest way to meet my wishes. Meanwhile, this man in a Texas Roadhouse Baseball cap, jeans, and sport shirt, seated 4 bar stools away from me, began talking to me. Soon, I discover, he is the managing partner of this franchise and proudly boasts that he has tripled its weekly sales since he took over, from $30,000 which was dismal, to over $90,000 which is one of the top performances in the franchise. I am not off topic. I now will refocus. He asked me if I had tasted their ribs. With my negative reply, he quickly ordered a rib sampler for me. When we shifted to his steaks, I quickly said, please no sample of it too as I am trying to eat less. I hate the word diet! Then, Troy Craig, this manager, sat down beside me and in our discussion he verified my thinking about people in the south are just as I am beginning to see them. He confirmed that they have a different attitude, a different view on how to treat people. He told me a number of stories which just reinforced what I am beginning to see. Southerners seem to be happy go lucky people who care about how you are doing. I know this is a leaping conclusion but I sure felt good every time I dealt with a southerner. Now I mentioned 'blacks' a couple of times above. My limited experience with blacks in the bigger northern cities was that many of them are angry persons, as if they had an ax to grind. Maybe they did, maybe they do. But the southern blacks seem to have adopted an attitude of "Well, life dishes out lots of lemons, so laugh and keep slicing for the iced tea!" They seem to be a delightful bunch of people, much like southern Italians, or the stereotypical southern Italians, laughing and smiling and hugging and kissing both cheeks. The southern blacks don't do ALL of that, but nearly so. By the way, this Texas Roadhouse is far above the average roadside restaurant. Their food is not pre-packaged, commercially prepared but done totally in-house, from scratch. The rib sampler, WOW is the short, to-the-point compliment, smoky tasting, sweetened with molasses and falling of the bone. I am glad it was a sampler because I was full after eating it. The dinner salad, enough to feed 3 people...Americans do like quantity...but the quality was there, fresh lettuce, a couple of gentler cheeses, the chicken critters, nicely battered and fried, not KFC at all. I had no room for anything else but coffee. Kevin Follis, the assistant manager, came over to talk with me filling me in on his take of southern hospitality. Sure, doing his job, but there is some built in fun in it too when he led a number of his waitresses in some impromptu line dancing. Just his job, you say...well, I think I would be embarrassed to do the line dancing the way they did. But they laughed, and enjoyed it as did all the diners. But wait, another tidbit, maybe a good marketing ploy, or another example of the personal touch and caring of southerners. Troy, the manager partner, has photos of his VIP diners plastered on the walls, in the booths, above the bar, torso shots of what he calls his special guests with their names labeling each photo. The booth photos indicate the favorite booth of the particular persons depicted in that booth's photos. Troy says, his VIPs get VIP treatment when they come in, front of the line service, and their own particular booth ASAP.
I could go on with more examples, but blogs are supposed to be shorter, I think. I need some feedback folks! Whatchya wanna tell me? Too long? Stuffy? Opinionated? Or simply Szpin's observations on life...which is what it is supposed to be. Being an old history, political science teacher, I marvel at the social culture of the south, knowing its past turmoil and problems. But one thing does trouble me...the further south I go, the more difficult it is understanding conversations if they are speedy. I thought TV and the Internet were obliterating speech localism, but in the south, at least where I have been so far, the regional vocabulary and pronunciation is localized, and when things are said at speed, I can't understand the conversation. So far, no one has taken affront at my asking them to repeat things for me or talk slower. Maybe I have to listen faster !!
Dahlonega, GA ... a small town that must be visited if you are touring the Smoky Mtns. OK, here comes the definitive word from a Canadian's perspective. In short, Dahlonega is a college town which is deserted in the summer, and rolls up its carpets totally by 8pm on any summer Sunday night. It's a gold ghost town; summer time, a college ghost town!
Dahlonega, Georgia, rose to prominence in 1830's when gold was discovered by Benjamin Parks while deer hunting in the Georgian forests. He struck gold instead of a buck!!! So the first American gold rush was on and support services like bankers, lawyers, dentists, doctors, and others came to start up businesses. Soon, banks, hotels, restaurants and laundries sprang up. Soon after, court houses and even one of the first federal branch mints. The courthouse is made of gold bricks. Well, OK, there are traces of gold in the bricks which were formed from the local clay. It paid to be a bricklayer here ! (Babbo, you might have been rich!)
Soon after, the federal government claimed all the land which was held by the Cherokee Indians and through a statewide lottery, land distribution was opened to new settlers. The Cherokee Indians were eventually rounded up by the federal government troops and force marched to Oklahoma on the infamous Trail of Tears. We civilized people do have a way with aboriginals!
The gold claims expanded the gold rush; immigrants kept pouring into the region until the new gold rush in California occurred in 1848. Now I know how the San Francisco 49ers of NFL glory got their name. Dahlonega's heyday passed now. The branch mint operation continued until the Civil War when the building and surrounding lands were donated to the newly created North Georgia Agricultural College (today's North Georgia College and State University...with Lance, the registration desk receptionist of my hotel, the Smith House, being one of their medical students...nice young man!).
Mark Twain's paraphrasing of "There's gold in them thar hills," was based on Matthew F. Stephenson's plea to the Dahlonega miners to not abandon Dahlonega for the California rush. He pointed to the Findley Ridge hills saying, "There's millions in it !" The plea fell on deaf ears as California was the "newer green grass."
Now back to the TV of my headline. Today, on any summer Sunday night, the quaint town square with its replication of the old 19th century buildings stands empty, totally devoid of people, and everything's closed. Hungry? Thirsty? Forget about it till morning. Maybe in the gold mining days, the town square might have had people walking about, sitting on benches, going into the saloons, but not today. Perhaps if the Italians had immigrated here, or the French or Spanish, all great piazza sitters in the summer evenings, things would be different in the town square. So where are all the Americans? At home watching TV, or else canoodling with their spouses, mates, girlfriends and/or boyfriends. But even with summer time temps of mid 70's, no one is about in the town square...except this lone Canadian who doesnt have a home to watch TV or a mate here to canoodle !
DAY TWO - Rain, rain, go away! Come back another day! That childhood ditty is one which I am singing today. What does one do in a big American city when it is raining, with no contacts, and not being a museum type when I am riding. Well, here are my options: Baseball game in the afternoon. I am told by the locals that they play unless it is an absoluter downpour. It isnt...YET! But I have my riding rain gear, a Godsend, my Frog Toggs. Light, water repellent, wind deflective...works great...but the chief benefit is that it compresses into a very small, portable bundle even if you take the pants along which I will for the stadium. This rain gear is so good, I will be able to sit in a down pour, dry and comfy, eat my water logged hot dog, drinking my rain diluted de-potencified (huh) beer feeling sorry for myself like a near drowned puppy, abandoned and wet. Doesnt sound that bad, does it?
Second on the list is GRILL 36, a sports pub. It isnt that I am such an all out sports fan, it is just that the playoffs always mean the best teams are playing and in this case, it is the final game of the Montreal vs Pittsburgh hockey playoff series. How can this be missed? Actual tickets are not possible...not in the wildest of dreams. So a well known sports pub should do the trick...and being the lone vocally loud support of the Habs should be an adventure...kind of like Daniel in the lion's den...but lets hope the lions are not gun toting Americans !
Such are the choices on a rainy day in Pittsburgh. Life could be worse!
DAY ONE This tour is a delayed trip for my wife and I had hope to go to New Orleans a few years back and Katrina hit. Now I am at the beginning of a new tour which starts in Pittsburgh and will take me down through Knoxville to explore the Smoky Mtns which are on the border between Tennessee and North Carolina. After that exploration, I ride south to my dreamed of New Orleans to connect up with the "boss." From there, we ride together again, up thru Jackson, to Memphis, Nashville, St. Louis to arrive in Kansas City where we will spend some time with our American condo partners from Puerto Vallarta. It will be fun doing that with my best riding partner. But then she flies home from KC and road it again, through Indianapolis, Columbus, Cleveland and home. A long trip again...I think I am really getting my money's worth out of my beemer.
Today I road Toronto to Pittsburgh, 60% of the journey deluged by torrential downpours that no sane biker would continue to ride it. I am determined man and just wont stop once I get rolling on my bike. Part of it comes from the very rational thought of each mile is a mile closer to a hot shower, a good meal and and cozy bed. Today was a real test...but again, I passed.
I am grateful for being curious when I am among strangers. I will quiz and query to probe for political views, community attitudes, and the opinions individual Americans hold. I will talk to the hotel receptionist, or the bartendar or anyone willing to talk to me in a local bar. Mind you, a local bar in the US has a hell of lot more character than any "character" bar has in Toronto. It isnt a matter of the grass being greener, Americans are just more open, more opinionated and more will to sermonize that their way is the right way.
Tonight I "dined" in a local Italian eatery, Alexanders Bistro, in the heart of Pittsburgh's little Italy. The food was ok though it came very highly rated. There is one thing that Americans should acknowledge about themselves, they dont know about good food. They mistake quantity for quality and I am still overstuff from my so so meal. Maybe I should have gone to Lidias but I changed my mind and wanted to save that experience for Kansas City with my wife who has exceptional taste. She is discerning in her use of spices and herbs though I boast that I am the more creative cook...and I underline the word COOK, for I am not a chef.
The more important thing is that my after dinner cognac turned out to be a meeting of the city fathers, locals who have resided in Pittsburgh for years, if not all their lives, a male, a female and the bartender. Very interesting opinions.
OBAMA A pseudo intellectual who falsely claims American birth but who really was born outside of the US. I dont know how they know these things but they point out, maybe legitimately, that he has bootlicked the banking authorities and now pretends to chastise them for the exorbitant bonuses they continue to receive. All the bar patrons agreed that is doing it on "their" buck and not doing anything legit. They claim he is a supporter of foreign labourers and that he wants them to receive funding support equal to any native American. Wow, if this is true, than it is easy to see how they hate his guts. There was more, but I didnt hear everything.
SARAH PALIN A pea brain in designer togs ! Hasnt got a prayer of winning the GOP ticket but has great illusions that she has a chance. When I underlined that George Bush was no rocket scientist and all agreed, stupidity happens...TWICE???
BEN ROSCHLISBURGER (?) quarterback for Pittsburgh Steelers in the news lately for his misogynistic violence. Some defended him with newspaper medical articles talking about personality disorders which occur to people who have had numerous head traumas. Evidently he has had 5 concussions, including a major one in a helmetless motorcycle crash. One man said, Ben is a jerk...PERIOD...the concussions just made him even jerkier! The woman said his half sister hates his guts because he so anti women and always has been.
IRISH vs ITALIANS. Did you know what the Irish think of the Italians...that they are simply blacks who have been turned inside out! And that is serious ! Then, they explained how there has always been a great animosity between Irish and Italians...and whoever got to a particular city first, dominated its politics at the expense of the other group. New York, Boston and Pittsburgh were given as examples. Then, do you know why blacks are so hated by the Irish...even today...it isnt racism...it is historically based on the Civil War era. Evidently blacks were not used for menial labour for they cost money as they were property. But the Irish were used instead for they would work for peanuts and did not have to be purchased as they were white. Man, I am learning new history all the time but I think it may be revisionist and slanted to favour the speakers.
HOTEL SERVICE...bravo Cost the same as a cab but the Priory, the B & B at which I am staying, has a limo service that drove me over to my restaurant for the cost of cab fare, a bit less in fact. But I did have a ways to go and the ceaseless rainfall precluded more bike riding. Already, I have stuff drying out all over the room like a Chinese laundry with broken down driers. The shoes and gloves took the brunt of my rain riding and I did not want to don all my rain gear again. The bike seems safe in the hotels parking across the street hidden between two vehicles...that could be a double edged sword but at least the GPS unit cant be stolen...hahaha...lets hope they cant steal the bike. The ZUMO GPS unit has been disconnected and brought inside for safe keeping. I could never get around as easily as I do without it.
It was an educational evening but tomorrows should be even better as I am planning on going Jerome Bettis Grill 36. He was a NFL running back for the Pitts Steelers and his bar is well known for having decent bar grub. Judgement is withheld till I taste it first hand tomorrow night when I go over to watch Montreal play the Pitts Penguins. Tickets for the game are impossible to get...scalpers are asking upwards of $2000 a pair...and likely finding clientele...just not Polish clientele ! So I am relegated to loud vocal support in a pub...and hope I am not shot for cheering for the Habs ... this is the US...maybe I should tone down my cheering...especially here in Steel town...It actually was the steel making capital of the world ...once ...long ago according to the bar people tonight.
An interesting day...maybe the my theme should be Americans I have met, or Americans are unique, or quirky American opinions. Got to watch how I say it...but there must be a way to hold the mirror up for them to view themselves and to get it published in Road Runner Motorcycle magazine as a Canadians view of Americans but not patronizing about it all.
