'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

'Zero G and I feel fine'

The last few days have been a bit quieter as we wind down to returning home tomorrow, although we did have an excursion to a quite excellent park where most of the rides are operated by pedal power. I tried to get Scarlett to pull her weight and write something, but she insisted that what makes the most sense is to contribute her first entry once she's back home. In the spirit of this blog, however, here are some final inane observations on Japan and the Japanese:

1. There's a great deal of reverence here for the emperor and the royal family. The Chrysanthemum dynasty makes the slightly tenuous claim to several millenia of unbroken descent, which would make them the longest ruling family in the world, and nobody here seems inclined to disagree. The emperor lost all real power after Hirohito's antics in the Second World War alarmed even the most ardent monarchists, but his son, Akihito, retains the support of virtually all Japanese, even if he is purely a figurehead. It's quite interesting that Japan and the United Kingdom, two countries united in postcolonial guilt, also share a deep popular respect for their monarchs. There's probably an essay topic in that somewhere.

2. It's hard to say whether the number one sport here is football or baseball. I think the latter probably just about edges it, since the Japanese are quite good at it. The back pages of the newspapers (which of course are the other way round here...think about it) are littered with pictures of footballing stars, but they tend to be the same ones as we would see at home, your Beckhams, your Ronaldos, your Gerrards, whereas the country's baseball idols are all homegrown. The slightly greater preference for baseball at the moment may have something to do with the fact that the Baseball World Championship is currently taking place, with Japan, the reigning champions, going great guns, into the semi-finals. What do you mean you haven't noticed?

3. The english language is taking over the world. We've seen tourists from various parts of the globe here, and they all rely not on their own languages, or on japanese, to get by, but on english. If two people with no common language meet each other, they communicate in english. I'm sure you already knew that, but being here has really underlined it for me. The French can forget about it - english is the universal language.

Well, that's about it. There are probably others but I can't think of any now. It's time to go home. See you in America.

- Adam

'Gravity release me'

It's funny how quickly you become accustomed to unusual things. Japan is such an alien place in so many ways, but it does not take long to slot in and start seeing everything as normal. Occasionally though, I'm still struck by a sudden wave of 'hold on, what's happening here?', as I was when we left the Park Hyatt the other night. The streets of Shinjuku, admittedly one of the very liveliest parts of the city, were bustling with noise and activity. It was midnight on a Tuesday in March, but it could have been midday on a Saturday, both in terms of the crowds and the illumination, thanks to the curious fondness of the Japanese for neon lights. While London is the city that never sleeps only in the sense that it has insomnia, Tokyo genuinely is up and alert through the night. Perhaps that's why everyone's always flat out on the subway.

Japan is just very, very busy all the time. Haneda in Tokyo manages to be the fourth busiest airport in the world despite the fact that it serves almost exclusively domestic routes; jumbo jets depart for Osaka, Sapporo, Nagoya, and other Japanese cities every twenty or so minutes, packed full of people - where do they all come from?

The trains are often rather overcrowded too, but they still run like clockwork. Yesterday we went down the coast to Kamakura which, as I'm sure you don't need me to remind you, was the de facto capital of Japan for around 100 years during the 13th and 14th centuries. So, naturally, we were spoiled for choice in terms of interesting things to see. It was also unbelievably warm, around 20C, and brilliantly sunny, which always makes for a cracking day out.

One temple, Tokei-ji, is known affectionately as the 'Divorce Temple', since it was, until comparatively recently,

the only place in the land where women could escape abusive husbands; if they could elude their spouses long enough to make it inside the temple walls, they were granted sanctuary, and, after three years, were officially granted a divorce. Apparently, local people would go out of their way to direct to the temple any woman they saw running, assuming they were being pursued by their husbands; they might of course have just been late for an appointment or something, but better safe than sorry I guess. This was the only escape channel for suffering women until female divorce was legalised in the late 19th century. It sounds like a long time to have to spend in a temple, but the gardens were so peaceful and quiet that it really wouldn't be a bad place to pass three years, and presumably many women chose to remain behind and become nuns even after their divorce had been finalised.

Kamakura is also the home of the Daibutsu, a colossal, 13m-high bronze statue of a meditative Buddha. Although not quite as large as the one in Nara, since this one sits outside, framed only by wooded hills and blue sky, it's probably even more impressive. You can look at pictures of it, read about the dimensions of it, hell, I've even seen it before, but the first glimpse of it through the trees is still pretty breathtaking. It was originally built with a roof over its head, but that burned down. Over the centuries, new shelters have been built, and have one by one been destroyed by fire, wind, and earthquake, but the Buddha himself has remained undisturbed, so they gave up building shelters. I like that.

We're beginning to approach the end of our time in Japan, and I'm aware that Scarlett hasn't yet written anything, so I'll do my best to galvanise her into action. Wish me luck.

- Adam

'The unforgettable fire'

Yesterday, after a very pleasant monorail trip across Tokyo Bay to the reclaimed island of Odaiba, I went on my lonesome up to the Tokyo National Museum in Ueno, which was really interesting. Loads of good exhibits, from 6th-century Buddhist statues to traditional Japanese art to samurai swords. Maybe it was more interesting than it sounds. Some of it was quite odd actually; one building was dedicated to the whole of Asia, not just Japan, with Korean pottery, Russian cooking utensils and Egyptian mummies all rubbing shoulders together.

I entered the first display room just in time to see an American man have a quite spectacular fall. As he was running down the stairs he tripped on the last step, staggered across the room for two or three seconds as he tried to stay on his feet, spraying his belongings over a wide radius as he did so, and then finally hit the ground and barrel rolled several times. Incredibly, I seemed to be the only one who noticed this tremendous commotion; I retrieved his jeans from a statue of the Buddha (he was carrying a spare pair, the fall wasn't quite that spectacular) and made sure he hadn't broken any bones (if he had, of course, I would have merely gone to find somebody vastly more qualified), and he pretty much thought I was a saint. Such was the nature of the museum that we kept bumping into each other on the way round after that. I think he had elected not to divulge his embarrassing episode to his wife, because when she was looking his face never betrayed any sign of recognition, but the moment her back was turned he would throw me a weak but whole-hearted smile and a thumbs-up.

After the museum, I went to a shrine in Ueno Park that I found profoundly moving. In the aftermath of the atomic blast in Hiroshima, a man from Tokyo went to the city to search for his relatives; at his father's house, he found only flaming wreckage. He lit a candle on the fire, and decided to keep it burning as a permanent reminder of what had happened. The flame eventually found its way to Ueno, where it quietly continues to burn today. Looking upon it was really rather sobering. I have my own views on nuclear weapons, and why they are, perversely, an important instrument of world peace, but there's a big difference between understanding something intellectually and understanding something emotionally, and it's very important to keep the awful realities of these contraptions in mind when discussing them. You can't fail to do that when looking at this light that never goes out. Beside it there were some inscriptions written by survivors of the attack,

 one of which I found particularly emotive: 'I felt a vibration, I looked up, and I saw the sky explode over the city of Hiroshima'.

On an altogether lighter note, we went that evening for drinks at the Park Hyatt hotel, which is, as well you know, where they filmed Lost in Translation. As well as being brilliant because you can go 'look! that's where he sits

 when he has breakfast!' and so on, the views from the 52nd-floor bar are pretty sensational. So that was a great evening.

Well, I guess, goodbye, and enjoy my jacket which you stole...from me.

- Adam