'Just naturally blabby I guess'

Our third and final enormous train journey is by far the biggest - all the way from Chicago to Los Angeles, a 43-hour epic. It sounds like a lot but actually, once you settle into a routine, it's really very enjoyable, and the first 24 hours have flown by. Before getting on we had visions of very quickly becoming sleep-deprived hippies, welcoming new arrivals with a flower necklace and a 'hey man, welcome to the party train!', but sadly, although we are a little short of sleep, that has yet to materialise.

The Union Pacific railroad cuts a path right through the heart of Big Sky country. After leaving Illinois, crossing the Mississippi in Iowa, dropping down through Missouri and passing overnight through Kansas (although we were still just about in Dorothy's state when we woke up, ruining the moment Scarlett had been planning for weeks when she prematurely declared, upon waking, 'I don't think we're in Kansas anymore!'), the train heads south and west through Colorado, New Mexico, where we currently are, Arizona and ultimately California before reaching the coast.

It seems a shame that more Americans don't get out of their cars and use Amtrak, because this train is remarkably comfortable. There's a big-windowed observation lounge, equipped with cushioned recliners, and a surprisingly reasonable dining car, which is staffed by a self-consciously eccentric attendant who is clearly lobbying for his own sitcom, and is a good place to meet fellow travellers. At breakfast this morning we sat opposite a Hispanic mother and child; at one point she asked us to look after her young daughter while she popped back to her compartment. The girl started asking us questions in Spanish,

but since the only Spanish I know consists of 'esto es un robo' ('this is a robbery'), 'vamos Rafa', and 'por favor, mantengese alejado de las puertas' ('please mind the doors'), I thought it best not to say anything at all, but to just smile apologetically, which was a bit of a shame.

The scenery here is, to be sure, just how I romantically imagined it to be, inhospitable and inviting at the same time. Panoramic vistas of unremitting, unforgettable emptiness, just green shrubs and rocky red hills, sweep gently in all directions to the distant snowcapped peaks of what, if my geography serves me, are the Sangre di Cristo mountains. Yep, this is the West alright, and I'm fully expecting to see Butch and Sundance come riding over the crest of every hill. There's something slightly odd about seeing in real life places that are so familiar because of television and movies; we thought that in New York as well.

I find the unchanging nature of this desolate, almost Martian landscape curiously comforting. The hauntingly beautiful scene I'm looking at now is, minus the occasional dotted farmhouses and trackside telegraph poles, more or less exactly what the first European explorers to venture this far into the interior would have seen centuries ago, and what the local Indians would have seen for millennia prior to that. I have the same feeling when I look at old pictures of Guernsey, like Renoir's 19th-century painting of Moulin Huet, in which the beach appears to be virtually the same as it is today. I dunno, I guess the knowledge that human life may be ephemeral, but the rocks re

main constant just reassures me somehow.

New Mexico, of course, remains to this day very much Indian country, the site of the largest reservations. When you consider that, if it were possible to compile a true human history of the Americas, European settlement would constitute only the final chapter of a longer anthology of a much more ancient, but unfortunately pre-literate, people, the fact they are now mostly squashed into artificially created reservations is just desperately sad. I could go on and on about this, but I'll spare you for now; I'm conscious of the fact that I'm beginning to sound like Alice Cooper in Wayne's World - 'Milwaukee has had its fair share of visitors, the Native Americans have been visiting here for thousands of years, only they called it 'Milli Waw Kae'.....'does this guy know how to party or what!?'

Above all, what this rail journey is underlining for me is how incomprehensibly vast this country is. It really is just endless. Consequently it seems faintly absurd that everybody here falls theoretically under the jurisdiction of one man in remote Washington DC.

We've just pulled into Albuquerque, which is not something I thought I'd ever be able to say. So on we go, only another 19 hours left before we reach la-la land. I've just been reading an article about how there is a growing campaign to partition America's largest state, creating 'Jefferson' on the coastal strip between LA and San Francisco, and leaving the interior to stay as 'California'. I shall endeavour to investigate.

- Adam

'The Human Trampoline'

Apologies to the many, many avid readers of this blog for the lack of posts in the last week - we seem to have been either on greyhounds, trains, or in hotels which don't have wifi (when do they think this is, the 20th century?). Anyway, you wait a week, and then two come along at once.

I'm writing this entry somewhere in amongst the rural flatness of the Great Plains, on our second overnight train journey, this time between Memphis and Chicago. We're gonna be crossing through states like they're going out of fashion - Tennessee, Arkansas, Kentucky, Illinois. The crucial difference between this rail trip and the last is that we're now in a 'roomette', admittedly with a heavy emphasis on the 'ette'; it's a lot like a room, but it's so small that they don't really call it a room...they call it a roomette. It's exceptionally cool though, and not as claustrophobic as it could be. I've always wanted to take a trip on a sleeper train, and it looks like that wish is being fulfilled. I wouldn't hesitate to say that this is one of the coolest things I've ever done, and in fact I've repeatedly let an increasingly impatient Scarlett know that.

Before we climbed aboard this train, we had an extremely busy final day in Memphis - after going to 

the hotel gym (!) we went bouncing into Graceland, Graceland, Memphis Tennessee. First things first, I have to confess that I've never really been all that into Elvis. Shocking, I know, but there you have it. Nonetheless, while I wasn't on the same wavelength as a lot of the other occasionally curious people there (one lady, Scarlett noticed, had a fairly sizable tattoo of the King on her ankle), I was, in a way, making a pilgrimage of my own, to the site of the pilgrimage made by Paul Simon in his brilliant song called, that's right, Graceland. The Mississippi Delta was, undoubtedly, shining like a national guitar as we followed the river down the highway through the cradle of the Civil War. Of course, Simon used Graceland as a metaphor (and also because it was a convenient two-syllable location in Memphis - he'd written the rest of the lyrics before settling on the eponymous word), but still, it's nice to know what he's singing about.

Having said I'm not that into Elvis, I must admit he'd grown on me a lot by the end of our extremely interesting tour. The house is surprisingly small, and feels unexpectedly homey, despite all the velvet rope. He was a bit of an enigma, old Elvis, but clearly he was someone who couldn't believe how much money he had suddenly acquired, so he bought everything he could think of; there's carpet on the ceiling, an indoor waterfall, disarmingly garish wallpaper in every room, his own racquetball facility (though sadly I made no progress in determining exactly what racquetball is), and a large private jet, the interior of which was clearly the inspiration for that bit in Austin Powers where he has a private jet. Evidently Presley couldn't spend the cash fast enough. Seeing Graceland also went some way for me to humanising this man who was and is an extraordinary myth - his basement pool table had a tear in it that apparently he made when an ambitious attempted trick shot went abruptly awry.

The Presleys' graveyard, in the garden of the mansion, is pretty sobering, and the substantial number of floral wreaths still being sent by grieving yet tireless fans are testament to the King's legacy, but in my head the mood was slightly punctured by the fact that I couldn't help but think of Spinal Tap while standing there. I guess it really puts a bit of perspective on things...

At the very real risk of repeating myself, American people, particularly Southerners, are so darn 

affable. When we arrived at Graceland, we were debating whether to buy the basic ticket that granted us access only to the house, or the 'platinum'  ticket that allowed us to also see the aeroplane and a few other things. It was only $5 more but still...that's how they get you. Sensing our distress, a couple in front of us in the queue (sorry, the 'line') turned around and offered us two spare coupons they had for the platinum tickets, since they would only go to waste otherwise. People do this in Disney as well; they go out of their way to give unwanted FastPasses to people at the back of the line. I dunno, I just don't think it happens to the same degree in Britain. We thanked them profusely, the man told me I had hair like Paul McCartney, said his father used to 

say 'damn those Beatles and damn their haircuts!' (which made me feel rather self-conscious), and we all had a good laugh.

Happily, we've now made sufficient progress out of Memphis for me to believe that we're not going to plummet into the Mississippi - during our Huck Finn-esque voyage yesterday, our guide (who had one of the most mellifluous voices I think I've ever heard) chuckled that, when construction of the rail bridge out of the city was completed around 100 years ago, the engineers themselves thought it wouldn't be long before it collapsed. So yeah, pretty glad to have avoided that one!

Anyway, I'll sign off for now, as I'm going to stretch out on my bed (that's right) and go to sleep, slash, watch Ferris Bueller's Day Off to get me in the mood for Chicago (sorry Benj, I mean...Chi...cego...doesn't really work when you spell it out, does it?).

- Adam

'Shining like a national guitar'

Memphis! We're walking in Memphis!! Well, not right now. Right now, we're sitting around watching TV in Memphis, but it's almost the same. We had lunch today in the Arcade Diner which was exactly like a proper diner, and Elvis ate there! Not while we were there, but once. Apparently. It was very delicious, and we had milkshakes and it was wonderful. Aaaand, we went to the Rock and Soul museum which was totally brilliant because they give you headsets and you get to listen to all the music as you walk around the exhibits. So I learned all about the development of Rock n Roll and Blues and Soul in Memphis while listening to it at the same time. It was great! And we saw costumes that people like Johnny Cash, Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis really wore, and Luciiiiiiillle the guitar, and Ike Turner's first piano and Al Green's bible. It was fantastico. 

And as if that wasn't enough, this afternoon we've been on a river cruise on the Mississippi in one of those paddlewheelers like in Ol' Man River.  And it had a narrator telling us lots of interesting facts. It was totally cool because when we got half way across the river we moved from Tennessee into Arkansas - a whole different state! And the man doing the talking had the most brilliant southern accent which I could have listened to all day. You may notice that we haven't been to Graceland, Graceland, Memphis Tennessee yet, but of course we will! Tomorrow. I can't wait!

We arrived here last night after an 8-hour bus journey from Atlanta, which was actually not as bad as it sounds... Firstly, our bus was driven by Morgan Freeman, which was really good (although it MAY have been someone who sounded like him), but also we had a half hour layover in BirmingHam, Alabama which helped. It also added to the list of states we've visited and the list of songs about places we've been to (WOAH Black Betty came from Birmingham way down in Alabama if you remember...) so it's all good. 

There was actually a really nice atmosphere on the buses - people are really open and friendly down here in the south, and they all help each other out a lot without any fuss. There was a lady sitting across the aisle from me who was moving house from Atlanta down to El Paso and she had a little girl with her and sooo much luggage that she had to push around the station on a big trolley thing and she was just chatting to anyone and everyone in this amazing southern drawl. At one point when we stopped, she asked me to look after her 'sleeping young'un' while she went outside for a cigarette, and she voiced everyone's worry about whether or not our bags had made it from the pavement into the luggage bit of the bus when she said, very loudly, 'if my bags aint under there, I'm gon' sue somebody.' It was funny. I think that the buses would generally be a fantastic way of getting around (they're comfy, clean and pretty cheap), if it weren't for the fact that the stations are often in really dodgy areas of town, so you really don't want to arrive late at night (which they often do). It's a shame really. But we're all done with the greyhounds now - that was our last one. 

Tomorrow night we're getting our second overnight train, but this time we have a 'roomette' which is very exciting... Doesn't it sound nice? We'll let you know how it goes! 

Scarlett

'A stranger's just a friend you haven't met'

I think South Carolina may be the most underrated state in the union, since people hardly ever talk about it and it's really good. I guess that's the essence of being underrated. Charleston is an absolutely beautiful place, the archetypal Southern port city (apparently it was once the wealthiest settlement in the colonies), filled with gorgeous old antebellum houses. Well, I say old. It's funny, when tour guides proudly announce that the building we're standing in or next to remains as it was in the mid-19th century, any Americans with us murmur to each other in astonishment. It's a bit different at home.

We spent a couple of days in Charleston more or less just wandering around the historic district and the waterfront, soaking up the tropical sunshine. Horse-drawn carriage tours are pretty popular here, which makes it curiously reminiscent of Sark. Everybody's so friendly. Our misguided belief that we were blending in, fostered in cosmopolitan New York and Boston, has been well and truly put to bed by our encounters with locals here, who can scarcely believe the accent. In a good way though. They're probably also given a clue by what I look like. If you were casting the role of 'A Tourist' in a movie, you'd want someone to look exactly like I do: cricket hat, crocs, camera.

We're in Savannah, Georgia now, which is similarly hot, green and Southern. It's a bit like 'A Streetcar Named Desire'. Charleston and Savannah were, respectively, the cradle and the denouement of the the Civil War - the first shots were fired at Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbour, and General Sherman famously spared Savannah from the retributive wrath of the Union forces because he considered it to be too beautiful to burn. Mark Twain once wrote that 'the Civil War in the South is like Ano Domini elsewhere, they date everything from it', and supposedly the rift is still keenly felt here, but I haven't noticed anything as yet.

Tonight we're taking the opportunity to watch some American TV, which is just as ridiculous as ever. Amusing adverts (sorry, commercials) we've seen include somebody urging us to 'turn in your old scraps of gold gathering dust', the slogan 'because they taste good' for Cheerios, and a hand cream that pledges to 'defeat dry skin'. Sounds epic. The other day, Scarlett was watching a programme called 'Last Cake Standing', which was exactly what it sounds like.

Tomorrow we're going to explore Savannah a bit more, before permanently leaving the Eastern seaboard behind, and turning inland towards Atlanta on Sunday. This is, quite literally, the place to stay in the loop.

Reeeed hot!

- Adam

'I've made a huge mistake'

You're not going to believe this, but I came away for an 8-week trip to America and I forgot to bring any tea. What kind of an idiot forgets to take tea to America?? I couldn't believe it. I did actually find some PG tips in a shop the other day but it was only a small box and it cost $6! And who can afford to spend $6 on tea? Not me, that's who. So I'm not feeling completely like Scarlett, but I suppose I'll get used to it.

We're in Charleston now! It's very lovely, but I haven't seen any dancing people yet. I'm very good at the charleston, so I'll probably have to show them how it's done. We had a very looong overnight train journey to get here - I know Adam has said this already, but the trains are so slow! And wibbly wobbly. But quite nice, in a sort of old-fashioned, I-feel-like-I've-gone-back-in-time way. We arrived at 5am, and although that would have been fine in any of the cities we've already been to (because most of them hardly, like, sleep and that), Charleston was a rather different kettle of fish. It was basically just the one room, and it only opened when the trains came through, probably 3 times a day. So we had to get a taxi straight to our hotel, where luckily there was someone on reception so we sat and read our books in the lobby (well I did anyway - Adam chose that moment to eventually fall asleep!) Anyhoo, we were very fortunately given a room at 7 so we had a nice long nap, and then spent the rest of the day exploring the city. There's all sorts of history here, but I'll leave it to Ad to tell you all that (he loves history). But it's very pretty - the buildings are so typically southern with wooden boarding all down the front and vines and porches with rocking chairs on. It's like in To Kill A Mockingbird! Have you read that? You should. It's just like that.

Unfortunately, it is unseasonably cold here (the story of our LIVES at the moment) and we are on STORM WATCH because there are great big T-storms about, according to the telly. So we're going to go out exploring today, but just better hope we don't get too wet.

The funniest thing happened yesterday. We went to get some food from this deli place we had seen, and we both had a salad and sat down to eat it outside. After a few minutes, the waitress came over to us and said 'you guys aren't American are you? I can tell because you eat your salad with a fork and knife. That's so weird!' And walked away. We laughed politely and said we were english, and then mumbled incoherently (as you do to be polite) and it was only afterwards that we wondered how you eat a salad without a knife and fork?

Ooo, I must just tell you about Guys and Dolls!! This is waaay back in New York, but we went to see the show on Broadway (courtesy of father) and we couldn't believe it but we had front row seats! Right in the middle!! And I hadn't looked anything up but it turned out there were some famous people in it. You know the Gilmore Girls? Of course you do. Well, Lorelei Gilmore (aka Lauren Graham) was playing Adelaide, and Nathan was played by the guy who was Oliver Babish in the West Wing (remember? his name's actually Oliver Platt), and who has just been in Frost/Nixon. And a lady who's in Frost/Nixon and some other people who were in Sex and the City. So it was very exciting!! And it was SUCH a brilliant show - the dancing was amazing and just like Seven Brides in places with men jumping around. And the acting was so awesome, even from, like, 2 feet away.

Right we're off out to explore. I think we'd better try the special Charleston blend ice cream. Oh, the sweet shops are amazing! And there's a whole array of barks of chocolate! (if anyone knows what a bark of chocolate is, please let me know..?)

- Scarlett

'Hold the sun'

I'm writing this entry somewhere in the blackness of North Carolina, halfway through our marathon overnight rail journey (the first of many) between Washington and Charleston. I've just read an article about how the government is preparing to lay high-speed track across the nation, but I don't know if it's worth the effort. These Amtrak trains are great lumbering contraptions, especially compared to our recent experiences on the Japanese Shinkansen, and right now our carriage is wobbling more than the American economy (there's that satire I promised you) but they're pretty comfortable, and they get you from A to B. The carriage is dark; Scarlett's asleep; in fact I think everyone on board is asleep, very possibly including the driver. Am I the only person in the world who can't fall asleep sitting up?

The train makes occasional stops at towns with evocative names, like Charlottesville and Rocky Mount, so how disappointing that they appear to be thoroughly unremarkable (I half-imagined the latter to be a high-altitude 19th-century Post Town surrounded by unlikely Virginian snow). The choosing of place names was such an integral part of the formative American experience (how else do you humanise or indeed Anglicise a hostile and unfamiliar landscape?) that the relentless homogeneity of these modern towns seems a shame, but there you go.

We had an absolutely fantastic 24 hours in DC, or 'The District' as its residents insist on calling it; it felt like we were there for so much longer than that. Our first port of call was, naturally, the White House, where we almost caught a glimpse of the Obamas' new puppy, but didn't quite. I know everyone says this, but I was quite taken aback by how small it is (the White House, not the dog) - you would really expect the presidential pad to be a spacious affair, but it isn't at all, it's quite cosy. In a good way, I think.

On the other end of the scale, I was stunned by how big the Washington Monument is; it towers over everything else in the city. They were very fond of that guy, evidently. The memorials to Lincoln, Jefferson, Roosevelt and the Second World War are tastefully presented, pleasant places to chill out and contemplate those men/events. We also went to the National Museum of American History, which had lots of history in it, so I was happy, and also Judy Garland's ruby slippers from the 'Wizard of Oz', so Scarlett was happy.

I really liked Washington. The glorious April weather may have had something to do with this; it's the only time of year when the city finds a happy medium between the gnawing cold of winter and the unbearable, swampy heat and humidity of summer (the climate was the principal reason for the choice of location for the capital of the union - it was hoped that its inhospitality would discourage 'good men' from entering executive politics).

Anyway, I'll sign off for now, since I'm going to have another go at falling asleep, as we rumble ever southwards into the enveloping blackness of the Carolinan night.

- Adam

'The stray dogs go to the animal pound'

New York. The city with a thousand names, like...the Big Apple. Er, some others probably. Scarlett referred to it after our first night, disturbed by the unremitting noise of the Manhattan traffic, as 'the city that you think might go to sleep at some point, but then actually it doesn't', which sums it up remarkably pithily I feel. The cab drivers are most culpable of noise pollution. As well as hurling obscenities at one another (and passing pedestrians), they seem to be tootling their horns more often than they're not, often at the most innocuous or unalterable of circumstances. It serves to reinforce my idea of having three horns in every car - one that's for emergencies, one that says 'come on!', and one that says 'hiya!'. I should probably do the voiceover.

We've crammed so much stuff into the last couple of days that it really feels like we've been here for ages. Although the grid street system doesn't actually work in practice due to the curvature of the earth - every so often surprised town planners have to cut the corners off grid squares to correct the problem - it is nonetheless a genius invention. After all, it is how God intended it, as Americans enjoy telling you. Consequently, we've managed to avoid getting lost, even though this city is absolutely enormous, so we've more or less ticked all the tourist boxes.

We went up the Empire State Building and absorbed the view of unfettered urbanisation all around - we perhaps couldn't see quite as much concrete as we could from the top of the Tokyo Tower, due to the rather unmistakable presence of the East and Hudson rivers and the unpleasant layer of smog that obscures the horizon here, but it is nonetheless an astonishingly large city. It is also sensationally busy all of the time - although the fact we've sensibly managed to time our visit with the Easter weekend may have something to do with that.

Other things we've done include: hitching a ride on the Staten Island Ferry, which takes in a view of the Manhattan skyline and sails past Lady Liberty (fair play to her, she does look pretty noble) and hordes of quivering 1920s immigrants on Ellis Island; walking over the Brooklyn Bridge; strolling through Central Park; riding the subway to Grand Central Station; and drinking cwoffee, lots of cwoffee. We also saw an unbelievable show on Broadway, but I'll generously allow Scarlett to 

fill you in on that when she next posts.

New Yorkers seem to be incredibly passionate people; they specialise in intensity of emotion, whether it's happy, sad or angry. Catch a glimpse of any two locals in conversation and they tend to be extremely animated, usually over really quite trivial things - altogether more animated than I would be when talking about, say, the quality, or otherwise, of my cwoffee.

It rained pretty hard today, so we decided to head indoors to a museum, and after an abortive trip to the Natural History Museum (extraordinarily long queue just to buy tickets) we headed to the National Museum of the American Indian, which was really evocative and interesting, but also quite sad. I have to say that if I was an Indian living in America today, I would find it very difficult not to constantly feel embittered. It is tempting to think of all the indigenous peoples of the Americas as homogenous in culture, but in fact they were a diverse set of societies (think of the geographical area over which they were spread), and all of these cultures were eradicated, or at least corroded to the brink of extinction, by the comparatively recent arrival of a people from remote lands with a superiority complex. Looking at the beautiful intricacies on display in native art, tools and dress, it is impossible not to be moved to some degree. I'll probably be banging on about Indians lots more on the blog as we move around the States, since I did study them at university and that - so you'll be looking forward to that, I'm sure!

We're embarking on the third leg of our North American tour (we're a bit like a rock band, aren't we?) tomorrow when we head off to Washington DC. The capital. The capitol. This should be fun. Think of the satire!

- Adam

'Is it cold in space Bowie?'

We've done some cool things today! This morning we went to Cambridge, which isn't technically in Boston (because it's across the river) but it's pretty close and we had to go and see Harvard, obviously! It was good, but freeeezing when we got there and very windy, and we got all lost because the map we looked at was stupid and misleading and we went all the wrong way for ages... but eventually we figured it out and stopped for a coffee which made it better. I may have been a bit grumpy for a while, if you can believe that!

We had a good look around the campus which was cool (because now we can say we went to Harvard!) but it was a bit sparse and grey because none of the blossoms were out or anything. Also, I picture Harvard in the autumn (sorry, Fall) with red leaves and everything, so it wasn't quite how I imagined. And cold! We wanted an indoors activity, so we went to a 'museum' which turned out to be an art gallery (eek!), but although it did have a lot of crazy modern art, it also had lots of good stuff from Asia - we saw some pottery from China that came from 1900 BC!! And some statues and engravings from the ancient greeks too. Very educational.

If you ever find yourself in Cambridge Massachusetts, though, the best thing you can possibly do is go to Mr Bartley's Burger Cottage. We read in our guide books that they sell some of the best burgers in america so we obviously had to go... it was amazing!!! Go there. It was absolutely packed and took ages, but it was one of those things that was totally worth the wait. Mmmmm.

THEN, we went to a Mapparium. Yup. Have you ever been to one? No? Tsk. I'll tell you about it then. It's a great big globe made of stained glass that's 3 stories high. You can walk through the inside on a bridge, and look at all the countries to scale but from the inside. AND the best bit is that, because it's made entirely of glass and metal, any sound you make can't be absorbed so it's reflected around the globe. So if you stand under the north pole and make any noise, however small, you hear yourself in surround sound. It was so bizarre! And because we were in there with other people, you could never place where a sound was coming from... sometimes it sounded as though there was someone standing just behind you whispering when actually they were standing on the other side of the bridge. It was brilliant! Oh yes, and if I stood at one end of the bridge and Ad at the other and whispered, it sounded like we were standing next to each other! We loved that.

That's probably all from me for today. I've been babbling again! We're heading on to New York City tomorrow, so I'm VERY excited. Hopefully we'll have internet when we get there so you can share our thoughts on the big apple. Bet you're excited too!

- Scarlett

'Show me potato salad'

We decided to start off our American tour in New England because we wanted to follow in the footsteps of our forefathers, and we followed thousands of them today as we breathed in the sweet air of democracy on the Boston 'Freedom Trail'. This is a sort of yellow-brick road (except it's red-brick) that cuts a path around a cluster of the city's most prominent landmarks, the majority of which, as you would expect in a place considered to be the cradle of the American Revolution, are from that era. 

We opted to exercise our own freedom by following the trail unerringly, never deviating from it even slightly, and consequently we saw pretty much everything. There's the graveyard in which Samuel Adams, Josiah Franklin and John Hancock are buried (as well as hundreds of other 18th-century Bostonians, but, rather sadly, the tourists seldom stop to look at their graves), and the Massachusetts State House, outside which stands a stone sculpture of a cod that caused a splash in the 30s when it was 'codnapped' (geddit? Not my joke it's in the guide book). Then there's the Old South Meeting House where the decision was taken to carry out the Boston Tea Party, when some royally cheesed-off New Englanders dressed as Indians boarded an incoming British supply ship and chucked several tea chests into the harbour. Unfortunately, and rather hilariously, they did it at low tide, so they had to jump down onto the sand and smash the chests up to make their statement, though you don't hear about that part of it too often. In addition, there's the restored house of Paul Revere, who rode to Concord to warn George Washington of an impending British attack, and all around the city there are statues of Washington, Adams, and many of the other revolutionary heroes.

While these totems are undeniably impressive, I'm slightly uncomfortable with the mythologising of the revolution here. There's certainly a great deal to admire in what they achieved, but, make no mistake, the root of the colonists' unhappiness was money, not oppression, or even inequality. The declaration may have stated that 'all men are created equal', but it meant, of course, for it went without saying, wealthy, propertied, male, and, above all, white men - even though the concept of a union of disparate states was inspired by the indigenous Iroquois Confederacy. As a result, I find the lionisation of these men as champions of universal liberty ever so slightly galling.

That said, it's not that surprising. America is often, slightly absurdly, accused of being a land devoid of history, but it is true that it lacks the long, romantic historical narrative of Europe, so naturally its inhabitants have been keen to extol the virtues of those pivotal figures that have appeared on the scene. And clearly, the revolution, in the long run, had a distinctly positive impact. So perhaps I can forgive the mythology after all.

We're still pretty tired and we walked a hell of a long way this morning, so this afternoon has been pretty chilled out, but, after eating a Phillie Cheese Steak from the Quincy Market, which I would recommend to anybody, we've managed to find time to watch the season opener of the Boston Red Sox on TV. It's been a good first day in the land of the free.

- Adam

'The spirit of the red white and blue'

Well, here we are then. We're in Boston! It's raining. A lot. But other than that, it's jolly good! I thought I'd better write the first blog entry of this crazy trip, seeing as I didn't write at all in Japan... better start as I mean to go on! 

Soooo... Boston's pretty good so far. I'm very very tired. But the flight was ok, it was almost on time and we managed to negotiate the subway with our massive backpacks. Now we're in our 'guest house', which is actually more like a hotel in the room, but we're feeling the value with their 'best value room' so I have to share a bed with my stinky brother. Booo! It has complimentary coffee downstairs, though, which helps. I'm going to get my money's worth!

The street that we're staying on looks just like Edinburgh, with lots of tall terraced georgian style houses, but there are great big skyscrapers towering over them... like a cross between Edinburgh and Tokyo! Two of my favourite places! That's got to be good. Tomorrow we're going to do the Freedom Trail (it's a walking tour so let's hope it's not raining!), so we'll get to see some more of the city then. We had to go out and get something to eat just now, so we just wandered about 50 yards up the road, found the local pizza place and grabbed a slice! We felt so american, it was really good. I have to go to sleep now. 

Sorry if none of that made any sense! It's mostly the jet lag...

- Scarlett

Scarlett wrote something! Hurrah.

Yeah...so, as she says, we are in a misty and wet Massachusetts - according to the excitable weatherman on TV it's unseasonably rainy here. First impressions of the place were that it's not too dissimilar to pretty much any other city - I guess concrete and, in particular, airport terminals are quite universal - but we were beginning to get a sense of the character of the place by the time we reached our guest house, and we're looking forward to feeling the history on the Freedom Trail tomorrow.

On the subway on the way here there was a greying gentleman sporting a baseball cap emblazoned with the words 'Got Fun?', which served to confirm my preconceptions that Boston is pretty darn wacky. We could be in for one hell of a ride.

- Adam