Goodbye, Farewell, Amen

After four flights over a 30 hour period and crossing about a dozen time zones, it's good to be home. It would be nice if somebody up there would leave the lights on for a little longer and turn the heat up a couple of notches, bu then again, I guess that wouldn't be a Victorian winter. Less than 48 hours after arriving home, I find myself sitting infront of my computer at work. My body is not even close to knowing what time zone it's in (why else would I be here at 5:30am?) and already I know that probably my biggest battle will be to rediscover my motivation. Motivation, both for being back at work and for not resigning the past 3 months to becoming a fading memory.

I return to a recent memory and can't help but smile. As my plane was taxiing at Atlanta airport, at the start of my long journey home, I looked at this trip in a new light. It felt as though it had been a reward, helping me to celebrate all that I have accomplished over the past two years. With that thought I realised that I am ready to close that chapter of my life. What made me smile is that the chapter about to begin is full of unknowns and opportunities, and, perhaps for the first time, I can honestly say that I wouldn't have it any other way.

For as long as I am able, I'm sure that I will bore people silly with tales both tall and true. So be warned, and be careful what you ask! I will have to do some (pretty severe) editing of my photos. Not even I am sadistic enough to make anybody sit through all 5532!

I hope you have enjoyed reading this at least half as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Stay tuned; with so much of the world still to explore, it's a pretty safe bet that this blog will be back.

All that is America

It's hard to imagine three more distinct and varied experiences in America; from rural Alabama to the megalopolis of New York and on to the modern city of Atlanta. Without any intention of derision, it's like journeying from the countryside that seldom wakes to the city that never sleeps and onto a place that thrives happily in the space between. In a similar fashion to many of the places I have visited, there is a lot to love about this country, but there are also some things that should be questioned.

It has been great spending my last few days of this trip in Atlanta. The people and the place still have the hint of the familiar. In keeping with the theme of the last three weeks, my time in Atlanta has been mainly about catching up with friends from my summers working at Camp Toccoa. Steve and Leah have a gorgeous recent addition to their family in the form of Cannon, their 7 month old son.

A couple of days ago, we ventured down to the Georgia Aquarium and delighted in the huge array of animals on display and interactive opportunities. Atlanta being the birthplace of Coca Cola, we also wandered through the 'New World of Coca Cola.' It is all incredibly commercial, but it was fascinating to wander through the displays and gain a new appreciation for the impact that coke has had on pop culture. The tasting room, in which you can sample all 64 types of drink made by the company (different tastes and flavours marketed in different countries around the world), felt like swimming through a room full of sugar.

Yesterday I caught up with Gillen, another friend from camp, and had my first introduction into racing go karts. When you sit that close to the ground, it feels a lot faster than the 60km/h or so we actually reached. Over a few beers at the local bar that night, I realised that my knowledge does not translate quite so well into American trivia nights.

And so it has come time to shut this down and head for the airport to begin the long journey home. Rather than muse and reflect on the past 3 months now, I will collect my thoughts and see what sort of order I can put them into.

I've got to be a part of it

I don't think I stumbled across Sinatra's New York, but what I did experience was an earthy and real Brooklyn experience away from the tourist hotspots. Sarah lives in a neighbourhood that I never would have ventured into had it not been for her. It would seem that this trip has instilled a spirit in me that will not allow a little uncertainty to stand in my way. Yet again, I feel as though I have reaped the rewards. My only wish is that it would have been appropriate to carry my camera more often, helping me to capture some of the places and characters.

We spent a good portion of Saturday volunteering at Prospect Park, a spectacular oasis in the middle of Brooklyn designed by the same guys who laid out Central Park. It has a network of trails that wind past lakes, through forests and across large open meadows. It's so easy to lose yourself and completely forget you're in the heart one one of the world's largest cities. So 12 of us (most of whom were school kids completing their community service requirement) weeded and mulched a section of trail; dodging the occasional jogger and avoiding the poison ivy.

Later that night I was intorduced to what has become somewhat of an institution for Sarah and her friends - an evening at the Four Faced Liar (an Irish bar in the West Village area of Manhattan). Although it seems that it seems that after a few beers is not the best time for me to learn new card games, I got to experience another, completely different, slice of New York life.

Keeping with the theme of a slightly 'non-traditional' visit to New York, Sunday afternoon saw us wandering aound the shores of Dead Horse Bay, on the southern side of Brooklyn. I'm a little sketchy on some of the details, but it appears as though the parklands on the shores of the Bay have, at various times during the last century, been home to a slaughterhouse (hence the name) and a landfill. In amongst the horseshoe crabs and remnants of long forgotten piers, was the most amazing and extensive array of glass refuse I have ever seen. Some of the bottles were remarkably complete and came in all shapes, sizes and colours, and seemingly from nearly every decade of the last 80 years.

I had a great weekend in New York, a fitting (almost) finale to the best adventure I ever could have hoped for.

French Resolution

I know, I know... it's a dreadful pun, but when you're in Paris for Bastille Day what`are you going to do? Anyway, here are some images from France.

Sweet Home Alabama

OK, so quoting Lynard Skynard might be stretching things just a bit, but I have really enjoyed my time in rural Alabama, catching up with Kathy and reacquainting myself with all her animals. The current cast of critters is really quite impressive - 13 cats, 6 dogs, 5 horses and 3 mules. It is a fluid situation with numbers up for negotiation at any given time.

One things is for certain, as long as Jack is in residence there will be no need for an alarm clock! Jack is a donkey with delusions of being a rooster. His greeting, at around 6 o'clock each morning, has a different resonance to the call to prayer (to say the least) but, in the environment, has a charm all its own.

It has also been great to meet some of Kathy's family and other friends that have been supportive over the years. Whether it is the people who come to the farm from time to time to help out, or hanging out in the feedstore in Tallapoosa, meeting the locals (ok so some of them were a little hard to understand and I'm not really sure what dialect they were speaking), I have a new collection of memories to be treasured.

Life in the Loire, part deux

I have been trying to come up with an appropriately witty subscript to the title of this post; alas my creativity has deserted me. Creativity however, is not exactly in short supply around here. Together with his artist neighbour Jeffrey, Ben has created his own personal and transportable outdoor cinema. And so it came to be that just on dusk a few nights ago, five of us converged on a point in the middle of a group of fields; a most spectacular setting for an evening of cinema and entertainment.

Jeffery owns a small 1960s van, on the side of which a sheet is stretched taut. He lays out the extension lead between the trailer and Bens idling car. The trailer becomes the platform for the projector and DVD player (as well as carrying the chairs that Ben has also supplied). A converter between the car battery and the extension lead provides the necessary power and allows us to chuckle and commit to memory the quotable lines as the buffoons from Snatch are beamed across the French countryside.

The Tour de France is probably the most amazing roadshow I have ever seen. On a glorious day, we made our way to Le Grand Pressigny and procured positions by the road in this most picturesque of French villages. Arriving an hour and a half befor the riders were scheduled, we witnessed a nearly never-ending stream of sponsors vehicles distributing all sorts of goodies to enthuse the crowds. It gave me a new appreciation for how much of a logistical and marketing exercise the tour is. We were in one small village 150km into a 220km stage. There would have been dozens of such villages on just this one day. The tour lasts for three weeks! The pending arrival of the riders is heralded by the appearance of helicopters overhead. There was a palpable surge of excitment as three french riders flashed by more than 3 minutes ahead of the main field. The passing of the peleton was a mass of colour, cheers and excitement as 170 riders (and almost as many support vehicles) sped by. Seemingly in an instant, the streets became quiet and the crowds began to disperse and return to their lives. The Tour de France had gone and the travelling roadshow rolled on.

In order to help them with their various building and renovation projects, the Walkers enlisted the services of Adam, a middle aged, unemployed, Polish guy with the skills they required. Nearly 5 years later, Adam and his coworkers are still contributing to projects in the area. Fully aware of the reputation that Adam (and more generally, the Poles) enjoy with regard to their enthusiasm for Vodka, Ben and I accepted an invitation for a night of Polish sausage, gherkins and drinking. Two bottles of vodka and one bottle of scotch later (between 5 of us), Im not sure what possessed me, but I have apparently written myself into Montressor folklore!

My final night in the Loire was spent at the Fete du Lac in Chemille; a real country fair with all the flair and panache that only the French can master. The market during the day gave way to an evening of food and festivities. Still feeling a little delicate from the previous evening, I refrained from partaking in the wine which flowed so freely. The night culminated in an awesome fireworks display; a show of pride by the local community and witnessed by literally thousands of revvellers crammed onto the banks of the lake.

My time in France has truly been memorable. The fact that I have missed the opportunity to join the Walkers in Italy, or catch up with an old school friend now living in Chamonix at the base of Mt Blanc, only serves to ensure my return. This afternoon Ben and I head for Paris, where Ben will board an overnight train for Italy and I await my morning flight to America. The next, and final, chapter of my awesome adventure awaits.