THE BIG EASY

TOMBS AT ST. LOUIS CEMETERY

HURRICANE AND FLOOD DAMAGED 9TH WARD HOUSING

STREET LIFE NEAR JACKSON SQUARE

THE NEXT BIG BOYBAND - OR NOT!

SOME OLD CROC

MISSISSIPPI STEAMBOAT NATCHEZ

The tour bus picked me up from the hostel at 9.30am. Its first stop was to see the famous catholic tombs at St. Louis Cemetery. The driver/tour guide explained that bodies had to be buried above ground because of the high water table in New Orleans.

We enjoyed a mid-morning break in the beautiful sculpture garden of the New Orleans Museum of Art, which included stuff by British sculptors Henry Moore and Elizabeth Frink.

The final visit was to the 9th Ward of New Orleans, the area most badly damaged by Hurricane Katrina and the floods which followed when the levees broke. The 9th Ward is 13 feet below sea level, so when the water came in it was up to the roofs. Many of the 1833 people who died were trapped in their attics. Even 8 years later the area is clearly still badly damaged. Some parts will never be rebuilt and many people will never return. There has been much criticism of the local, state and the federal governments over their handling of the crisis.

For the afternoon I headed to the French Quarter and particularly around Jackson Square to enjoy the street life. Being 10 feet above sea level, this area largely escaped flood damage.

New Orleans is the birthplace of jazz, and the street performers were not going to let me forget that fact. Many other musical genres are here too, though. As evening came I made my way slowly down the brightly illuminated Bourbon Street with its 50 or so bars, each one offering live music, included rock, pop, rap, soul, country, blues, ska, grunge, indie, folk and of course jazz. The choice seemed endless, and although this may not have been Mardi Gras, it was party time just the same.

I ordered a beer in a Karaoke Bar called Cats and was given three for the same price! Apparently I had turned up at happy hour, although I couldn't find a sign that stated when happy hour was. Perhaps every hour was happy hour?

I found a nice perch at the back of the bar from where I could slowly imbibe whilst watching the karaoke artists. Some of them were very good. Indeed, as I drank my way through my stock of beers, they just got better and better.

Next morning, I amazingly managed to rise early again to be collected by another bus. This was to take me to a shallow-draft boat for a narrated tour of the Honey Island swamps. These wetlands are populated by a wide variety of wildlife, but most people had come to have a close encounter with the alligators. We were not disappointed. Apparently, alligators are partial to marshmallows and sausages. The experienced guide to took full advantage of this to get them close to the boat and even jump out of the water right alongside us. We were advised not to grip the side rail of the boat in case our fingers were mistaken for sausages!

The bus dropped me back at the French Quarter. I decided to have lunch on the steamship Nachez, which was shortly about to cast off from its dock near Jackson Square. I chose a local traditional meal of crispy bacon with Fritta del Giorno (mix of eggs, cheese and vegetables) with grits (milled corn with sweet cream butter) and creole creamed spinach.

I enjoyed my food, washed down with a beer, as the unique steam-driven vessel paddled its way up and down the Muddy Mississippi. In the background, a live quartet played 'Old Man River'. The ride was really smooth, with none of the vibration so familiar on a cross-channel ferry. The weather was beautiful again. I was starting to get into the swing of living in the Big Easy.

Suitably chilled, I made my way back to the hostel via the Mercedes-Benz Superdome. This sports arena building is amazing and there is a vague link with Southampton, UK, since the primary tenant at the sports arena is the (New Orleans) Saints (American) football team.

NEW ORLEANS

MOST OF THE TRAINS WERE A LITTLE BETTER THAN THIS ONE

SOME NEW ORLEANS HOUSES COULD DO WITH A LITTLE WORK

The rail journey from Toccoa to New Orleans was over 14 hours and since I had travelled into another time zone I had to put my watch back by another hour. As I watched the urban and rural landscapes pass by from my window-side seat, the immense scale of the USA compared to the UK was apparent.

A group of lads, I would guess in their early 20's, came aboard at Birmingham, Alabama. They asked if I would swop seats so they could all sit together, and I was happy to comply as long as they arranged the swop through the attendant. They helped me move my bags and then insisted I take a $20 tip. I had been getting used to the tipping culture in the USA, but this was the first time I had been a recipient of one.

Only then did I open the book given to me by Todd and Joy to find that they had signed it with love.

The train was much noisier than before due to the rowdy banter of two groups of youngsters on their way to N'awlins (as I now understood you pronounced it) for weekend stag parties.

When I finally arrived at Union Passenger Terminal, my initial impressions as I stepped out of the station were not good. Whilst many of the wooden buildings looked colourful and quaint from a distance, close to they were dirty, shabby and poorly maintained, with paint peeling and rubbish strewn around.

I walked to the Bourbon House Hostel, to be greeted on arrival by Ty, who gave me a tour of the facilities. I had a room on my own because I was an oldie. When I told him about some of places I planned to walk to, he was concerned, not because of the distance but because of the danger of being mugged along the way. Apparently I had already walked through some potentially dangerous areas on my way from the station.

I was clearly seeing another side of the USA here. I took his advice and booked a 'City Orientation' tour for the following morning. I then walked a 'safe' route to Walmart to buy provisions. As I walked around the store I was conscious that people with my skin colour were in the minority. I wondered if black people sometimes feel that way in predominantly white areas.

CURRAHEE MOUNTAIN

ME WITH NINI AND KENNY

SERVICE WITH A SMILE - RACHEL

MEMORIAL TO FALLEN CONFEDERATE SOLDIERS

I learned that Stephens County was once inhabited by Cherokee Indians and that Toccoa was the Cherokee word for 'beautiful'. Four miles to the south-west of Toccoa, as the crow flies, is Currahee Mountain. Currahee means 'stand alone'.

At the foot of the mountain is the site of a WWII training camp where paratroops of the 101st Airborne Division were trained. The films Band of Brothers, Saving Private Ryan and The Dirty Dozen were all about divisions that trained here. These men were the toughest of the tough, and were expected to run up and down the mountain with a full pack.

Obviously, I had to climb the mountain. This turned out to be very hard work, not so much because of its 1,740 foot height but because temperatures were now in the 90's. By the time I got down I was exhausted and short of liquid but met Brian, clearing wood from the front of his property, who gave me bottles of ice-cold water from his fridge. This was just as well as the route I had taken to get back to Toccoa turned out to be a dead end, so I wasted a lot of time retracing my steps.

A short while later I stopped to chat with Kenny who was also working in his garden. He invited me into his home to cool down, drink some more iced water, and meet his lovely wife Nini. We got on so well that it was 6.00pm before I knew it. Kenny offered to drive me back to my digs and since I had already walked over 12 miles in sweltering heat that day, I gratefully accepted.

I returned to the Cornerstone Restaurant to eat and was once again served by Rachel, who was fascinated that I wanted mayonnaise with the Chicken Salad. I was beginning to recognize some of the more subtle differences between the UK and US diets.

In the process of walking around Toccoa and speaking to people, I came to realise how deeply religious the area was. Signs along the road competed with each other to persuade folk to join their particular church. Only then did it dawn on me that Toccoa is in the heart of the bible belt.

There are also clear resonances of the civil war, referred to as the 'northern invasion' by one individual. A memorial to the fallen Confederate soldiers was just across the road from my digs. A fundamental reason for that war was the south's reluctance to abolish slavery and there were still signs of segregation between the black and white people in the community. I did feel that this conflicted somewhat with the strong religious ideals that permeate the locality, but I came to the conclusion that Toccoa was not a place that changed its ways rapidly.

I would be leaving on the Amtrak at 6.30 in the morning so it was another early night. I had really enjoyed my brief stay. Todd and his wife Joy where wonderful hosts and gave me a book to read on the train. Kenny and Nini had made me so welcome in their home. Rachel had ensured that whilst I might be eating alone, I would not be lonely, even when she had others to serve.

The final surprise came in the morning as I sat waiting for the train. At this crazily early hour, along came Rachel with her husband Jeremy. They had come to say a final farewell and give me some picnic food for my journey to New Orleans. It was sad to be leaving. I had stayed in Toccoa just two nights, but felt I was leaving behind some very good friends

TOCCOA, GEORGIA

MY AFRICAN THEMED ROOM AT THE SIMMONS-BOND INN

TOCCOA FALLS

CHILLING OUT ON THE VERANDA AT SIMMONS-BOND INN

The Amtrak train to Toccoa wasn't due to leave D.C. until early evening on the Tuesday, so I spent a large part of the day touring the U.S. Capitol building and learning about the American system of government. The inside of the building is even more impressive than the outside. Later I visited the Spy Museum, which displayed a mix of serious and not-so-serious stuff. They had a whole floor devoted to James Bond.

The train left on time, the seats were roomy and could be tilted back. However, the air conditioning seemed to be on full-blast so it was a bit like being inside a fridge even though it was warm outside. I was wearing shorts and would have been warmer had I changed into longs, but didn't want to get thrown off the train for indecent exposure.

I was informed that adjusting the air conditioning involved going underneath the carriage which, presumably, the attendants are not trained to do (not while the train is moving, anyway). They were great in other ways, though, and brought me a pillow to make me more comfortable. Though the train was long, they seemed to know exactly where everyone was located, and as we approached Toccoa they came to let me know.

I had chosen to visit Toccoa because it was the smallest place I could find roughly mid-way between D.C. and New Orleans. I was helped down onto the trackside at 7.00am Wednesday morning (no platforms in little old Toccoa). The train was 45 minutes late -apparently not unusual because priority is given to goods trains and passenger trains have to work around them.

The lateness worked to my advantage because, even from the station, I could see the lights were on at the Simmons-Bond Inn where I would be staying for two nights. Owner Todd welcomed me at the door of this historic wooden abode built in 1903. Nobody had stayed the previous night in the room I had booked, so it was ready for me. It was decorated African style and has an en-suite hidden behind a book case which swings out when a particular ornament is tugged. I had a shower and Todd invited me to join some other guests for breakfast.

Suitably sustained, I headed off to explore the local area. I discovered that Toccoa was designated a City even though it is smaller than most towns. I was clearly destined to come here as it is in Stephens County, although this is a small administrative area compared to any county in the UK. It was obvious that some businesses were having a hard time, but from the grass cutters and street cleaners about, there was a clear determination not to let the area fall into decay. What wealth there was seemed to be concentrated to the north of railway tracks as on the south side the housing was poorer and appeared to be occupied mainly by black people. There was a cheerfulness about the place, however, and wherever I walked, people waved or said howdy.

One particular place I wanted to see was the 186 foot Toccoa Falls, which was well worth the 5 mile round trip walk.

There is no supermarket in Toccoa and eating facilities are limited, but I enjoyed a typical local evening meal at the Cornerstone Restaurant, served by the chatty and charming Rachel.

I had been without sleep for well over 36 hours by now. John, also staying at the Simmons-Bond Inn, was sitting on the veranda of the house when I got back, so I joined him for a while before getting my head down for 10.00pm.

WASHINGTON D.C.

THE WHITE HOUSE

JFK'S GRAVE

EINSTEIN MEMORIAL

THE U.S. CAPITOL

My four and a half hour journey on the MegaBus from New York to Washington D.C. was fairly dull. I might have considered striking up a conversation with the rather large lady sitting next to me, but she spent most of the time gabbing into the mobile phone stuck to her ear and the rest of the time playing games on it (the phone, that is). I was concerned that if the battery went flat I might have to witness her 'cold turkey', but the provision of power outlets on the bus spared me this.

The most interesting part of the journey was crossing the Delaware Memorial Bridge, which actually comprises two huge, identical, parallel suspension bridges, one carrying traffic in each direction.

When I stepped out of Union Station in D.C. (used for both buses and trains) the sun was so hot I could have been in Egypt. Beggars by the exit extended the similarity further. I had heard there was quite a bit of vagrancy in D.C. Whilst I didn't give them money, I did share my food.

Washington is a complete contrast to New York as the streets are wide and the buildings low, making it light and open. It is also very clean. Central Washington essentially comprises the huge National Mall which extends from the U.S. Capitol (sort of equivalent to our Houses of Parliament) to the Lincoln Memorial and is filled with monuments and museums. The White House is to the north side of The Mall facing the Washington Memorial. Beyond the Lincoln Memorial, on the other side of the Potomac River, are Arlington National Cemetery and the Pentagon.

Over my 3-day stay I visited all of these places, and many more besides. I saw the Watergate Complex, the U.S. Marine Corps (Iwo Jima) Memorial, JFK's grave and the place where the aircraft was flown into the Pentagon on 9/11. I saw the Thomas Jefferson, FDR, Martin Luther King, Einstein, and various war Memorials. Of the many museums I could have visited, I chose the Holocaust Memorial Museum, the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum and the American Indian Museum. With regard to the later, there was no attempt to deny how badly the Native American people had been treated in the past. What I hadn't realised was that we Europeans managed to wipe out around 90% of the indigenous population by bringing across our nasty virulent diseases with us, for which they had no immunity. A bit like War of the Worlds in reverse.

Visiting all these places involved lots of walking in the heat, but my Hostel provided a good breakfast to start the day and a great place to relax and socialise in the evenings. I met some interesting people from all four corners of the globe, clearly proving that the world is flat after all.

CENTRAL PARK

BOATS IN CENTRAL PARK

TRUMP HOTEL - CELEBRITY MEETING PLACE

Friday is my last day in New York for a while so, since the weather was so beautiful again, I decided to take a wander around Central Park. The Park is huge and needs a full day to do it justice. By following the miles of walking paths, I was taken past statues, fountains, boating lakes and even a full-blown reservoir. I visited Strawberry Fields, in front of The Dakota apartments where John Lennon was shot, and chatted to Charlie, who was playing guitar by the Imagine mosaic.

There are lots of museums around Central Park but generally I limited my exploration to just their foyers. The exception was the New-York Historical Society Museum, which I fully toured. I am sure that friend Steve Bridge and neighbour Jane, who help to run a History Group near to my home, will be delighted at my choice. The shameful truth, however, is that it was the only one that would let me in for free.

As I passed by the Trump International Hotel and Tower, comedy actor/writer James Corden and his family were leaving to catch a taxi. His small son, Max, walked straight into my legs and fell over, so I lifted him back up onto his feet while his mum gently scolded him for not watching where he was going.

There you go. I'm in New York for less than a week and already I'm hobnobbing with celebrities.

Tomorrow I move on to Washington D.C., but come September, "I'll be back!", to rob a catch phrase from another celebrity I might just meet in Hollywood.

WORLD TRADE CENTER

ONE WORLD TRADE CENTRE

SOMEONE WAVING AT ME

Today (Thursday), I made for Manhattan's financial district by walking the waterside path down the west side. I passed through several attractive parks, but the view ahead was soon dominated by 1WTC, the tallest of several new buildings which replace the destroyed World Trade Center complex. I was irresistibly drawn towards it, and soon found myself in the queue for passes to see the 9/11 Memorial.

The Memorial itself comprises waterfalls cascading into two pools set in the footprints of the Twin Towers. The names of the, almost 3,000, victims of the terrorist attacks are inscribed in bronze parapets around the pools. Surrounding the Memorial is a beautiful tree-filled plaza in which to wander around and contemplate - eventually in peace and quiet, but not right now. The Memorial is presently surrounded by a noisy army of builders who are in the process of completely reconstructing the site. I think this was what impressed me the most. There was a real sense of: 'We've been hurt, but we're coming back stronger'. The new 1WTC is taller than the original Twin Towers. Indeed it is now one of the tallest buildings in the world, and probably the most expensive. Along with its unofficial name of Freedom Tower, a statement is clearly being made here. I found the whole experience of visiting the Memorial quite an emotional one.

I continued my walk around the waterfront, and might have paid for a boat ride around the Statue of Liberty had Tam not told me that the Staten Island Ferry goes almost as close, and it's free!! I noticed a Coastguard Gunboat escorting us as we crossed the water.

On my return I walked past Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges before returning to my digs via Chinatown, which seems to have its very own Chinese-style McDonald's - Gutbuster Double Prawn Burger with Noodles and a Herbal Tea, no doubt.