Heading for Deep River, a Post from Alan and Glynis

Where Mr Paul was born ...

Rewind to 1978 – (Professor) Roger Cowley suggested to Alan that he should, as an aspiring Physics academic, spend some time either at Grenoble, Brookhaven National Laboratory (New York on Long Island) or … Deep River, Ontario. Rather to Alan’s surprise, Glynis thought this was a good idea and chose Deep River as the destination.

We were to be mentored by Bill Buyers, a canny Aberdonian, who fixed up an office, apartment and etc. while Alan sorted out grant funding to pay for the cornflakes. In the Autumn of 1978, Glynis took her first ever flight (on a Jumbo Jet) to Toronto, then her second, on a DC3 (yes, the WW2 thingie – with door chains that clanked noisily all the way from Toronto to Pembroke!). Bill collected us from Pembroke “airport” and deposited us with breakfast supplies, in 35 Hillcrest, Deep River.

Within 24 hours, Alan was at work and with a further 24, we had been “nobbled” by Community Church, Deep River. There we met the Coles, who adopted us, the Sivernses, who did likewise and many other people who became close friends and supporters during our 2 happy years in Deep River. We joined choirs (church, town and “Cantandos”). We canoed, skied (cross-country, Ontario is pretty damn flat!), sang and lived as happy “Canadians”. During 1980, Paul happened along (we now know what caused him) and curtailed Glynis’s 79-80 skiing rather dramatically. That’s how he comes to have two passports. At the end of the two years, we came home as we promised we would and promptly decided that (a) Scotland was boring and (b) there were no jobs in Physics. We would go back to the job “offered” in Deep River and become proper Canucks. Sadly, or happily (as many things would have been different had it been otherwise) the Deep River opportunity had disappeared as the Canadian government began to favour Canadians for permanent jobs. So – Alan moved to Electronics and we settled back into Corstorphine then Penicuik.

We clearly forgot what had caused Paul, as Sooz happened along in 1985 and Canadian memories began to fade into a rosy glow.

Fast forward to 1992. Time to take Mr. Paul back to his birthplace. So – Glynis had to brave the sky again (not a DC3 this time, tho, sadly). All our friends were still there, and it was a very nostalgic trip for A and G. We visited Ottawa, James lakes, Toronto, Niagara, Lake Superior – and mostly Deep River and all the lovely people who had looked after the startled young couple that had arrived on their doorstep in1978. Marlene and Maurice looked after us, Jinty and Don entertained us and lent a canoe (again!). Alan learned how to install drywall with Maurice (plasterboard to you Brits!) and it was like the 12 years hadn’t passed.

Now – a further 18 years on, Paul’s heading back to his birthplace with Charlotte. He’ll certainly see the Millers (Alistair and Margaret … dear friends and unique people). We hope he’ll find Maurice, Marlene, Margaret, Bill … possibly even Jinty. Don Smith , sadly, died not so long ago – a lovely man and a good friend to have. He will be sadly missed. Hopefully the rest of the DeepRiverites are doing what we are trying to do – grow old without growing up. Love to them all.

The Quebecois are not French

Our couchsurf host in Montreal was a folk-loving metal-head French Canadian named Patrick, who lived with a ferret named... ferret. He gets the prize for the weirdest pet so far! The ferret would scamper round the flat, investigating everything, demanding attention, and frequently titilating Paul. Patrick was unemployed and going through interviews for chemistry jobs, so kindly spent Wednesday showing us round Montreal. We experienced the omnipresent Tim Horton's (I suppose like Dunkin' Donuts for Canadians) and discovered the mysterious 'poutine'. It was a heart attack in a paper tray - chips, rich gravy, and lumps of some strange curd cheddar. Really good. So we spent the day walking round Montreal - went up a big hill for a great view, saw the old town and the big shopping area, admired the commissioned graffiti which seemed to be everywhere, and appreciated a square full of brightly-painted old houses. We even found the Old Brewery Mission - where Rob (the minister who married us) used to be situated. We ended up in a bar relaxing with some local beers chatting about philosophies on life.

That night Patrick drove us up to a look-out point with a view over the city, which was pretty spectacular. Slightly disturbing, though, were the dozens of monster-fat raccons who swarmed the visitors as they fed them on no end of crap. Yuck.

Thursday Patrick had an interview, so Paul and I went for an explore on our own. We found a giant cememtery with graves from all cultures and religions, and a couple of impressive mausoleums. After that we visited an equally impressive oratory, before embarking upon our next food pilgrimage. The family Friedrich had unanimously recommended sandwiches at the Rubens Deli/Restaurant - specifically the Rubens Sandwich - so we did just that. It was among the more upmarket of places we've eaten at on the trip so far, and well worth it. The sandwiches were monstrous in size and came with a load of chips (we resisted 'upgrading them to poutine') and coleslaw. Well recommended if you're ever in Montreal! The desserts also looked great, although we didn't have space for them.

That evening Patrick took us out for drinks with his friends in an English-themed bar which didn't seem remotely English, but was showing an ice hockey game. His friends were French French from France (more on this later) - in fact Patrick is the only French Canadian we've actually met, as every person he introduced us to ended up being from France. I find the whole Quebec thing really fascinating. To me it's a very rare thing to have a predominately Anglophone country where people in a large area are so comfortably bilingual. Anglophones are not naturally inclined to learn other languages. I don't think Paul was expecting it to be as French as it was, but even though the default language was French, there was no problem getting by in English. I wasn't sure the world was ready for a repeat of the kind of French I tried to pull off in Paraty, though (if you haven't read that post, read that as 'very bad French'). One of the French people (Julie) was very disappointed we hadn't brought fiddles to the bar, so we headed back to Patrick's for a few tunes. It was good craic.

Friday afternoon we bid farewell to our generous host and boarded the Greyhound to Ottawa. Christine (another overseas folksoc friend) and her dad picked us up and took us back to her parents' house, where her university housemates (Helene and Exotic Christine) were cooking dinner. They were exchange students from France and Belgium respecitvely (where are all these French people coming from all of a sudden? Up till this point everyone was German!) and were also visiting Ottawa for the first time (Christine is at uni in a town 2 hours away). Very excitingly Christine had got hold of tickets to see a hockey game that evening. Admittedly it was a junior team, but that was the only way we would have been able to afford to go!

It was such a surreal experience. As we arrived the home team (Ottawa 67s) were just being announced and individual players' triumphs recounted. The stadium was filled with parents, kids, fast food, and teen cheerleaders. The opposing team seemed to be taking on the role of 'Team Evil' - they had a small handful of supporters, were booed every time they came onto the rink, and generally sidelined. There was a huge celebration if the home team scored, and a grudging ackownledgement if the Baddies did. I've never seen such a biased approach to sport! Even the commentators were partisan. Well, everyone was - they were the Baddies and the home team (as this was their stadium) were the Goodies. Anyway, it was very funny, and everyso often some random 20 seconds of music would play and the cheerleaders would get up and do a self-conscious dance. There was also someone dressed as a chicken (and I don't think it was a mascot) - I was never sure about the role of the chicken.

The playing was suitably violent, as expected, and sometimes obligatory fights would break out for the amusement of the crowd. It was clear they were still learning to do that properly - practising for the big boys' league. True to type, the Team Evil players spent significant time in the sin bin. At the first interval a miniature team of tinies came on and had a game. It was the cutest thing I've ever seen. They were all about 6, and would skate around a bit, fall over, skate, then a whole clump of them would all fall at once. It was a big thing whenever they managed to score.

It was a close match, but in the end the Ottawa 67s managed to overcome the Baddies 3-2. It was a very bizzare sporting experience, but a helluvalot of fun.

Afterwards we headed into town to experience 'beaver tails'. This seems to be something specific to Ottawa (I think 1 guy holds the copyright) - and very tasty. It's essentially a deep fried batter (in the shape of a beaver tail) with stuff on top. I had cream cheese and chocolatey things, Paul had Maple butter, but I believe the classic is to have cinnamon, sugar and lemon. In the winter the canal freezes over and beaver tail stalls appear all along the sides - the perfect snack after some skating. In fact, you can use the canal to skate to work or school, which I think is very cool.

At the beaver tail place we picked up another French girl, Carol. When I asked her if she was French Canadian or French French from France she got very annoyed. You cannot call the Quebecois 'French'. They're not French. There's nothing French about them. They're not French Canadian - they're not citizens of France and Canada, they're just Canadians who speak French. End of story. That's us told then! (I suppose I get just as irate when people use 'England' and 'Britain' as synonyms.)

We took a walk around the central part of the city, and admired the eternal flame outside the Parliament. Turned out to be not so eternal as it was switched off during the daytime. We were lucky to see it when we did!

The next morning Christine and Helene cooked Canadian pancakes and crepes. So good. Then we went sightseeing (by this time there were 6 of us). Carol left us to go look at a museum, while we went for a tour of the Parliament. This is one of the most beautiful parliament buildings I've seen - both inside and out. Free tours are great! For the rest of the day we walked about the market and eventually said goodbye to Exotic Christine (called that as opposed to Local Christine). That evening Christine's dad cooked some amazing tandoori chicken and biryani (Christine's mum is a diplomat so they've lived in India as well a number of other places) and we drank hot apple cider, ate apple crisp (a bit like a crumble), and entertained Christine's friend who turned up out of nowhere with some Creme de Menthe.

On Sunday we were down to 4 - me, Paul, Christine, and her dad. We drove out to Gatineau (formerly Hull), which is on the Quebec side of Ottawa, to go for a hike in the woods. There were more of these roller-skiers around (first encountered in NY, then Montreal) - it looks very odd, but seems to be pretty fashionable. Christine found a strange plastic thing on the ground, which seemed to be some kind of transforming toy (we gave it to Paul to figure out as he had once been an 8-year-old boy), and then further down the road found another similar one in red. They were most puzzling, and seemed to magnetically fit together. We hoped we'd find more, and maybe they'd form some kind of alien summoning device or something. But no. We were at a loss. A mystery. When we got back we converted Christine to Due South. It had to be done. Hopefully her life is now better.

Waiting for our bus to leave Ottawa the next morning (to go to Deep River - exciting for Paul!) we met a retired military guy who is now a bounty hunter. He told us about hardcore outdoors things we could do in Canada, and a story about wrestling a stag. Greyhound does introduce you to some interesting people! I spent a long time looking at his oddly shaped kit-bag, wondering if there were weapons inside. My only understanding of bounty-hunters comes from Due South, oddly enough!

Boston Cream Pie and other Fatty treats

We left a wet and rainy New York and arrived in an equally soggy Boston to be met by Ian, one of our friends from Folksoc. He took us back to Johanna's (his girlfriend and another Folksoc friend) flat which we were to be staying in. It was in the district of Cambrige, in the shadow of the famous Harvard University - it felt a bit like Marchmont in Edinburgh with the amount of students kicking around. In a dramatic move of hospitality and self-sacrifice, Johanna had us stay in her room while she and Ian indoor-camped on the living room floor. Ian went out to work so we chilled out at the flat for a bit before Johanna came home and we headed out for Mexican food at a new place that had just opened up round the corner. There were some discussions of plans to go out but these were abandoned due to our laziness and the soggy weather so we went to the supermarket instead in preparation for the next day.

The weather hadn't really let up the next morning but we headed out to explore Boston anyhow. It's a very different city to New York, much smaller in terms of geographical size but also in terms of height as the number of ridiculously high skyscrapers really plummeted. It also felt very English (this was New England after all) as many of the buildings date from colonial times. Boston is kind of where the USA started and a number of important events happened here (including the famous "Boston Tea Party" which was a big statement against UK imperialism in the yet-to-be-formed USA). Conveniently, the local tourist board have laid out a "Freedom Trail" along the pavement - it's a line of red stones you can follow which takes you past various sites. It turned out to be quite a good way to see some bits of the city so we followed it, admiring the (albeit damp) buildings as we went. We passed the graveyard where Samuel Adams (important revolutionary and now face of lager) was buried which struck me as everyone's picture of a graveyard with low, tombstone haped... tombstones buried in the ground. It reminded me of the "Thriller" video. Along the way we veered off when we saw interesting streets and stumbled across the original "Cheers" bar (where everyone knows your name), the very atmospheric (and steamy) holocaust memorial and a legendary local pastry place "Mike's Pastries" where we stopped for a cuppa and a slice of Boston Cream Pie. It's a calorific chocolate/vanilla cream/sponge treat which we gulped down. On the way back to Johanna's we visited the Goodwill Store (a USA charity shop) where we stocked up on books and winter clothes - the temperature had dropped a lot since we left North Carolina.

That evening Johanna had arranged a session so after a classic UK meal of baked tatties and prawn cocktail (made by us - a meal we've been fantasising about since Cuba) the place was invaded by the local Scottish folk scene. They were lovely folk and great musicians so we all had a smashing evening of tunes, songs, scones, brownies, purple corn chips and a couple of pumkin ales. Good times.

We didn't quite start as early as we'd planned the next day but we were early enough to take a 2h drive out to the Sugar Loaf mountain which we duly climbed. Is was a bit of a hardcore climb to start with but the autumn colours were stunning and the view from the top was outstanding. There's a far higher concentration of deciduous trees in this part of the USA which is why it's quite so famous for autumn colours and rightly so. We came back to Boston to go to "Mr. Bartley's Burgers" - a bit of a local legend (in the same way as Kebab Mahal in Edinburgh) for gourmet burgers. They had a massive hotplate which they slapped on lumps of minced beef which were then cooked to your burger specifications (medium, rare etc.). It was a crazy place and very popular - we had to queue outside but we got in when they had free seats at the counter which was the best place to observe the kitchen action. All the burgers have names which you can see on their website. Johanna and I had a the Joe Biden (this guy is scary), Charlotte had the BP (oh look Britain messed up another former colony) and Ian had the Mitt Romney (2012 or bust). They really were fabulous burgers and reminded me that I really need to work on making that kind of BBQ sauce that you get in the USA. We then went for ice cream at "JP Licks" another local legendary place. I had the very seasonal flavours of pumpkin spice and carrot cake and both were amazing. On the way back to Johanna's we dropped in by a local deli/grocery which sold loads of British items (presumably catering for UK students studying at Harvard). You wouldn't wan to buy anything mind as the Scott's Porridge Oats were $10.99 a box and the Walker's mince pies were $26.99 for six (you do the maths, it's about $1.50/£1). Cha ching! We headed back to the flat devoid of UK produce and collapsed in front of a DVD of "V for Vendetta", feeling very 5th November-ish.

Coincidently, we went from one Harvard to another the next day as we bid our farewells to Ian and Johanna (to whom more thanks - I really can't believe the hospitality of the people we've been staying with here). Harvard is also a little village west of Boston where Steve and Harriet Freidrich live along with their two youngest kids, Katherine and Charlie. Sophia, their oldest, was at primary school in Bath with Charlotte and is one of her longest-standing friends. Steve and Harriet took us to their lovely house where we installed ourselves in Sophia's room before heading for Brunch at Mike's diner. I've been wanting to visit a real old-time USA diner for ages and this was definitely my kind of place. There were stuffed bears, moose heads and various other dead animals mounted around the walls and the waitresses were loving mine and Charlotte's accents.

The pancakes we had were to die for (and we fully expected to after eating them) along with the sides of corned beef hash, bacon and "home fries" - a local speciality similar to what my primary school used to serve as "sautéed potatoes". Steve was particularly keen to make sure we had real maple syrup (as opposed to maple flavour syrup) which came in wee bottles like whisky miniatures. If I wasn't worried about carrying them around I'd have kept the bottles. We accompanied Steve, Harriet and Charlie to church later that evening (Katharine was at hockey practise) before sitting down to Harriet's home-cooked ham with potatoes dauphinois and brussels sprouts. Oddly enough, the Friedrichs and I share a common love to this much maligned green vegetable. We spent ages that evening quizzing Steve about his job. He flies Boeing 737s (and other aircraft) for private individuals and has flown Tony Blair, Elton John and Michael Caine amongst others. It's odd to think of Charlotte and I travelling on a low and tight budget when there's folk out there who have a plane to lend to the likes of Elton John.

Harriet works at local Fruitlands museum where we were treated to an outstanding lunch served by a very enthusiastic waitress who quizzed us on our travels. The museum is a mixture of art and local history and was started by the parents of Louisa May Alcott who wrote "Little Women". I was particularly interested in the exhibitions about Shakers. They were (and are although there's only three left!) a religious sect kind of connected to Quakers who were into communal living. When you joined the Shakers you had to dissolve your marriage as the members were celibate and lived as brothers and sisters. Any children were raised by the community rather than their parents. Their name comes from the shaky dancing they do during worship and their best known as the origin of the tune for "Lord of the Dance". They've kind of diminished now - you can imagine that any religion that encourages celibacy of its members is unlikely to last. That evening we were supposed to be going to Katherine's hockey match but it was cancelled due to the weather. Instead we spent a very pleasant evening playing our hosts a few tunes and teaching them the card game we learnt from the South Africans on the Inca Trail. They seemed to enjoy the skulduggery that could be applied to fellow players.

We bid Harriet and Steve a fond farewell the next day just as their upstairs was turning into a work-site with a bunch of guys laying a new floor. It looked like life was about to become pretty noisy (it already was when we left) but we were very grateful that they hosted us despite the upheavals!

Our bus for Montreal left the next afternoon - it was a fairly uneventful journey but when we arrived at the border I was very excited to be finally using my Canadian passport. As we entered into Canada I considered the legion of Canadian celebrities; Mike Myers, Joni Mitchell, Alanis Morissette, Keanu Reeves, Shania Twain, Hayden Christensen, Jim Carrey, Pamela Anderson and.....me.

We headed north.

Apples of various sizes

The way from Washington to New York was studded with trees of all colours. They were truly spectacular. And in fact, when we arrived the unusually warm weather we had encountered in Washington persisted. The bus pulled into a station which spat us out in the heart of Manhattan - it was like being suddenly clobbered over the head by the big city. Giant skyscrapers, mile-high advertising screens, people everywhere. We made our way to the New York Public Library where Zarya (uni flatmate of mine)'s dad John was waiting for us. He's a librarian there and managed to get us and our snail-shells of baggage past the 'no luggage' signs, before giving us a little tour. It's such a stunning library - probably one of my favourite parts of New York - and (compared to the National Library of Scotland) so convenient and accessible to the public.

Paul and I spent the afternoon there, before going home with John when he finished work. Chez Rathé is another thing I love about New York. The flat is a kind of elegant chaos, stuffed with books, beautiful furniture, and sculptures all over the place. Judy and John welcomed us with some New York pizza and apple cider (not alcoholic) - it's apple season after all!

The next day we ventured onto the Subway and into Manhattan (Z's family live in the Bronx - the posh bit, mind). We had a wander around Times Square and Broadway, being dazzled by the bright lights and mental M&Ms shop, before meeting Neil Pearlman, who'd been at Edinburgh for a semester. He took us round some of the sights, and indulged Paul's desire to find as many Ghostbuster movie sites as possible. We had lunch at a place which came highly recommended by Z's sister Anuta - Shake Shack. It was well worth it - the burgers were amazing and the shakes were pretty good too! Look it up if you're ever in New York.

We went through Central Park and saw teams setting up for Saturday's Hallowe'en extravaganza. It was Friday and Hallowe'en was 2 days away, but there were still people just casually walking around town in costume. I suppose if you've got yourself a costume you might as well wear it for as long as possible, right? Neil also took us to have a look at his university, and as he left us, pointed us in the direction of what he described as a 'cool cathedral'. It was pretty cool, actually. We went in to find the place decked out with giant creepy Hallowe'en decorations (which I'd never expect to find in a church) - big ghost, and a puppet ghoul being controlled to sinister organ music. They were preparing for a concert that evening. At the edges were pieces of modern art, and in one of the side chapels, an art installation from Bristol involving a table with a dinner party projected onto it.

Saturday Paul and I went to have a look at Greenwich Village (where Paul was thrilled to find the Friends apartment building) and took a stroll through China Town and Little Italy. (We also 'accidentally stumbled across' the Ghostbusters fire station.) We went on a long bagel pilgrimage to where we were told we could find New York's best bagels (H&H Bagels, if you're interested). I never knew the main cooking method for bagels was boiling them. I always wondered why they tasted different from bread rolls! We drifted into Central Park where the Hallowe'en madness had really set in. Everywhere was swamped with families - parents dressing up their kids and household pets to spend the day at the 'Pumpkin Festival'. The best costume I saw was this poor little dog blissfully ignorant of the irony of its hot-dog costume. The dogs' costumes were often just as elaborate as the children's ones.

It looked like a great event - I was particularly envious of not being able to go to the haunted house (I know that sentence doesn't make grammatical sense but I can't be bothered to change it). Americans don't do Hallowe'en by halves! We made a last tourist trip into Zabar's, which has been described a like grocery shopping in Harrods. It was good for free samples, and had one of the best cheese selections I've seen in a while! Later Paul settled down to carving his pumpkin, and it joined John's to scare the trick-or-treaters the next day.

On Sunday John had the day off, so he took us on a drive into the countryside around New York. The freakish warm weather was long gone by this point and it was properly autumn in every way. We drove up a hill for a view of the whole area, and round picturesque New England towns. That afternoon Judy had arranged with a friend for Paul to play in an Irish session happening at An Beál Bocht Café nearby. The bar itself was completely taken over for Hallowe'en and there were small children and their parents in costumes everywhere. Judy and John got individually stolen by one particularly assertive little girl at various points. The atmosphere was great, and at one point a whole group of tinies gathered round the musicians to bounce up and down. (Toddlers the world over seem to have developed the same dance.)

After the session, it was back on the subway to Greenwich Village for the Hallowe'en parade. As soon as we got on the subway, the most fantastic costumes began popping up. Many were shop-bought ready-mades, but my favourites were the ones imaginatively compiled. The closer we got to the Village, the more stuffed the train got until we got to our chosen station to find it jam-packed with people - costumed and otherwise. We'd already seen the kids all trick-or-treating round the Rathé house - the adults were something else. The crowds were a little bit terrifying, especially as we emerged above-ground and found ourselves trapped behind a barrier. The crowd pressed on slowly, and it felt like we were never going to escape the barrier - especially as the parade was just starting.

Finally we found a spot (though we couldn't see much). Luckily a lot of the first processors were carrying huge puppets which floated above them so all could get a look. It had a real Mardi Gras feel to it, the atmosphere electric. It felt like the whole of New York had turned out to have fun. The parade seemed never-ending, and as people at the front got bored and moved on, we managed to get a good view. Loads of fun to watch costume after costume - some better than others, some exactly the same as others. The inevitable Thriller dance too. We got back to the flat to find Judy, Anuta, and her boyfriend Alejandro devouring trick-or-treat spoils and watching the pilot of a zombie series. We joined in. So many different variations of Reeses peanut butter sweets to try!

John had another day off on Monday, so he took us downtown to see the Statue of Liberty. We queued for what felt like the whole morning, before going through some airport-style security and getting on the boat. The wind was fierce and it was bitterly cold. But there she was, emerging ahead of us. The boat landed at Liberty Island, but we didn't get off. No point going up the statue (climbing in a huge queue 1 step at a time) when you can get the same view from the boat! We went on to Ellis Island, where the immigrants of old were processed before they could arrive properly. The museum was really good and gave a good picture of a century or so of immigration. When we got back to Manhattan we visited Ground Zero to see how the new World Trade Centre was progressing (not very far it seemed) and had a look at Wall Street. We had a pint (proving once again that Americans do actually know how to make ale) by the shore and returned home.

Tuesday (also election day, incidentally), was one of these beautiful crisp blue-skied autumn days which make all cities look amazing. We walked through the mansion bit of Riverdale (Rathé's part of the Bronx) to meet Judy at the school she teaches music at. We were going to subject some of her students to a Scottish fiddle workshop. The first class seemed mortified, especially when an art class turned up to sketch them. But they soon settled into it. Paul led a crash course in Strathspey, getting everyone to learn a bit of stepdancing before they even began to learn the tune. The second group involved all the band kids too - I don't think we were quite prepared for all the noisy brass, but we adapted! Then a nice calm group of older students who picked up the tune pretty well. All in all, I think it went down well!

After that we headed into town to get us some skyscraper. We'd been debating whether to go up the Empire State Building, or follow local advice and try 'the Top of the Rock' at the Rockefeller Centre. Local advice won out in the end -they were both about the same price, and while the Empire State is higher, the queues are astronomical and you get a view of the Empire State from the Top of the Rock. There was almost no queue at all at the Rockefeller Centre, and as a result we made it to the top just as the sun was setting (incidentally, the lift on the way up had a clear ceiling and shone with coloured lights and projected film - very cool). It was a perfect clear evening - sunset got ever more orange, the view was breathtaking, it was all entirely beautiful. We stayed up until it was dark to appreciate the full range of light, then headed back down for some NY street food we'd seen so much of. Our poison of choice was lamb gyro, which was kebab-style stuff wrapped in a soft flatbread (the gyro). So yummy. So welcome. Then we found doughtnuts. Oh yes. Fat us.

Wednesday was a similarly beautiful day. We went and did another workshop for Judy, which was loads of fun, and then met John at the library for lunch. We were an hour early so we wandered round an exhibition there of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. It showed that they're basically all the same religion with a few disagreements over prophets and messiahs. Some lovely old books (works of art) and it was all well displayed and explained. Perhaps exhibitions like that will do their part to help solve these religious conflicts a bit. Maybe. Maybe not.

John took us to my new favourite pub in New York - The Ginger Man (if you're going, it's off 5th Avenue not far from the Library. Go at lunch time - in the evening you won't be able to move). The back of the bar was entirely made up of different beer taps. Forget how many now - over 70 different beers on tap or something? They have a whole selection of bottled beers too - many of these really fantastic ales. John ordered us 2 flights with 8 different ales to try (a flight is 4 small taster glasses - the only way to cope with this kind of selection really) and we also got Ginger Man hot dogs - cheese, bacon, sauce, and beef sausage (they're the default here, not pork). We spent lunch chatting about ales and whiskies. A perfect afternoon. Afterwards he took us to the 7th(?) Avenue Liquor store - which had some pretty pricey whiskies. Luckily John has some good ones of his own he was good enough to share with us.

To finish up our final day in New York, Paul and I visited the toy shop with the giant piano (as seen in the film Big). Thanks for that suggestion, Fiona! Even more exciting was that you could get your own muppet made, for the reduced bargain price of $99.99. Oo err. In the evening John and Judy enlisted our skills in helping their neighbours plan a trip to Scotland - I'm beginning to wonder if we should be getting commission from the Scottish tourist board!

It was really sad to say goodbye to clan Rathé this morning, and I'm gutted that Zarya's is yet another wedding we're being forced to miss (having been absent already for Carmen and Andrei's, and Eilidh and Iain's). We've had a fantastic time with them and really hope we'll catch up with them again soon! Spending a whole week in New York was really good, and Paul says this is the place he's felt most at home so far. It looks like (along with Tromso) it may be appearing on our list of places we hope to live one day.

The Beautiful South and Washed Out in Washington

So swing back to the Peruvian Jungle episode and you may remember that we met some folk from North Carolina while we were all staying at the Wasai Lodge. We'd told them about our trip (like we tell everyone as they all ask) and when they heard that we were to be coming up the east coast of the USA they immediately gave us their email address and told us that we should visit them when we pass through and they'd take us to their beach house, feed us southern food (including the mysterious "grits") and generally show us a good time. Nothing could have prepared us for the level of hospitality they really had in store. For reference there are three couples you need to know about - Jennell and Frank Harris, Margaret ("MC") and Stig (yes he does know about "Top Gear") Egede-Nissen and Jim and Connie Strickland.

We arranged to meet Jennell at the Greyhound station in Raleigh, the state capital of North Carolina and when we did, she already had lunch waiting for us in the car. This was the famous North Carolina "BBQ" which is BBQ pork in a roll served with sweet potato fries and two vinegar-based sauces (the make-up of the sauces varied across the state). After a 14 h bus trip this was extremely welcome and we fair wolfed it down while Jennell drove. It was a 200 mile or so journey and on they way we chatted about life, the universe and everything, sorting out the state of US and UK education along the way. We eventually arrived and Frank and Jennell's beach house in Shallotte on an estuary off the North Carolina spot. It was a stunning spot and a really lovely house which they'd had built about a decade earlier. After staying in hostels in Florida it was quite a contrast with a gorgeous room for us with a double bed, clean sheets and a bathroom with a properly powerful shower, also welcome after some of the cold, dribbly affairs we'd encountered in Latin America. We were able to have a shot kayaking on the estuary (with Charlotte falling in!) before Frank arrived with Annie and Zach, their two springer spaniels and Zach's "security raccoon". Dinner was a great clam chowder accompanied by an amazing ham which Jennell had cured herself and various pickled things (see the recipes section for these and other North Carolina gastronomic feasts!) and we were plied with plenty alcohol including some single malt which made us feel properly at home. After much chat and more putting the world to rights we eventually crashed with great promise for the following day.

Morning was broken with an amazing breakfast of crispy bacon, eggs (over easy - I hadn't seen that done before) and warm Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Charlotte had mentioned these after trying them on a previous visit to NYC. They were amazing (so much better than Dunkin' Donuts!) and we now need to seek out a branch so we can sample more. After breakfast we all jumped in the boat and headed down the river to a beach area. The whole place was stunning and was peppered by some seriously big houses, most of which were weekend retreats so it boggles the mind to consider what their permanent residences look like. The day before Jennell had baited the crab pot and lo and behold, we had a clutch of crabs so Charlotte and I watched eagerly while these were boiled (they went from blue to pink) and then we all assisted picking the meat out the shells. Jennell made the white meat into crab cakes (another recipe we collected!) and the brown meat from the claws into a dip for a later occasion. Frank then drove us back across the river to the fish market where we bought 25 lb of shrimps. Don't be afraid though, most of these were to last the winter so they were bagged up and frozen but a few were kept for the evening. The final finishing touch was put to the main course when Frank suggested that we go out fishing using some of the shrimp as bait. I'd never fished before so jumped at the chance. Frank got Charlotte set up with rod and bait and showed her how to cast. He then set me up, showed me how to cast and within about 30 seconds I was reeling in a monster (beginner's luck I suspect). I chopped it's head off (my first animal kill, I was proud!) and Frank helped me de-scale, gut, clean and fillet it. It was added to the menu along with the shrimps, crab cakes and cheesy grits (a cous-cous- like grain that we'd only previously heard of). An amazing meal resulted finished off with some shortbread that was the tiny and only contribution from Charlotte and myself. We learnt loads about southern cooking and played Jennell and Frank some tunes and sang some songs that evening. Charlotte got the comedy award by walking into a closed screen door - doh!

Frank drove us back to Burlington the next morning (after more lovely eggs, sausages, doughnuts etc etc!) where we were handed over to Stig and MC who hadn't been able to join us for the weekend. They live with their two dogs Max and Schubert in a crazy house on a lakeside with loads of bizarre nooks and crannies, one of which we were staying in which contained a luxurious double bed, our own bathroom and a couple of other spare rooms too. We chatted (more setting of the world to rights - always fun!) and they took us out for dinner at the local golf club where they sometimes play. We all ordered burgers as they told us that it was unique in that you could specify how you wanted your burger cooked (rare, medium rare etc). Most restaurants are too worried about health and safety for that. You could also specify sides or mixtures (fries, onion rings, salad, slaw etc.) so Charlotte and I both ordered a half and half combination of fries and onion rings. There was little room left for dessert so we ordered an ice-cream-pie and shared it round. I couldn't imagine anyone eating a whole one after that amount of main course. We lit a fire in their fire pit back at the house - alcohol was drunk, tunes were played and songs were sung. We were loving it.

It's election time here in the US and both Stig and MC were working the next day at the polling booths. Unlike the UK, they allow a week or so of voting so that everyone has a chance. Stig went early but MC didn't start until 10.30am so was able to make breakfast for us - eggs again but this time accompanied by another southern delicacy, biscuits. Before you start thinking that that's really odd, a biscuit here in the US is actually a savoury scone type object and can be filled with bacon, ham etc. It was a great accompaniment to the eggs certainly. Up to this point we hadn't been able to meet up with Connie and Jim, the third couple from our jungle experience as Jim's father had just died so they were tied up dealing with that. Connie phoned that morning though and we managed to arrange a lunch outing with her and their kids Brandee and Taylor who were approximately our age. This was taken at "Mellow Mushroom", a pizza joint that had recently opened in town. They had a great selection of ales (surprising for the US) and Taylor was the expert in the local brews and helped us make a selection. All were lovely and reminded us very much of home. Pizzas were bought and shared out (mine was the best though!) and more of the world was set to right. A lovely time.

When we arrived back with MC we jumped in her car and she took us on a wee mystery tour around Burlington. They have a really lovely university campus which looked especially lovely with the leaves on the turn. We were also particularly interested to see the fraternities and sororities, something we really don't have in the UK so we picked MC's brains and tried to get our heads round that. There was also a really nice area (called "Glencoe" bizarrely enough) where there were converted cotton mill houses. Apparently, no one thought they'd ever be any use once the mills had closed (and when we saw one pre-converted we saw why!) but someone converted one and the whole things snowballed. They're allowed to build as much as they like provided that the front of the building remains intact so all of them had massive back extensions. They made lovely residences and you could see a couple that were in production. Dinner that eveing was shrimp and grits, another southern classic followed by a pear pie made mostly by Charlotte. Stig and MC had invited two of their friends round so we had a great evening chatting, sharing stories and playing some more music. Jennell and Frank dropped by as well so we could say cheerio as we were on the early Greyhound to Washington DC the next morning.

We were especially sad to leave our North Carolina crowd as we'd had the most amazing time with them. They were the most generous and accommodating hosts (MC even made us a packed lunch for the bus journey) and we were staying in beautiful houses eating fantastic food. We would never had thought to go there if we hadn't met them in the jungle but we're so glad we did and it's certainly changed the southern US steriotype for me. It actually makes me want to investigate more of the southern states so maybe we'll do that on a future occasion. I really hope that sometime we'll be able to return the favour by welcoming them to Scotland.

MC dropped us off at the station the next morning where we were due to catch a bus at 8.00am. It turned out to be running late so we sat in the station chatting to the station manager and a taxi driver waiting for possible business. They were two black guys and I'd noticed posters on the wall celebrating the "Freedom Rides" when a bunch of black and white civil rights campaigners boarded Greyhound buses in 1961 to challenge the segregation of the time. It was fascinating to quiz these guys about it as they were old enough to remember segregation and told us crazy stories about how there'd be four toilets in a bus station, two for whites and two for blacks and how black would always have to go round the back etc. It's funny how we think of the USA as being a modern country now but you don't have to go too far back to find some pretty hellish nastiness. The bus eventually arrived and we headed north.

In Washington we were staying with Gil and Nancy, two lovely Couchsurfers with extensive experience (we were surfers 211 and 212 approximately). We chatted with Nancy for a bit before Gil arrived and within about 5 minutes, we'd identified a common love for Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd and classic British comedies. We went out to a CS meet up down the road and met (amongst others) a guy who'd lived in Glasgow and a girl who'd lived in Edinburgh. We spent a good bit discussing the relative merits of the two cities and reminisced about Kebab Mahal and the Mosque curries. I felt a touch homesick...

After chatting with Gil and Nancy about our itinerary, we decided to have an early start as we didn't have long in Washington, DC. We headed straight for the Mall and wandered up and down visiting as many sites as we could including the Congress, Vietnam, Korean and WWII Memorials, the Lincoln Memorial, the Library of Congress, one of the Smithsonian Museums and the White House - there was so much to see! I think the highlights for me were seeing Barack's House (we took a photo with the EYG bag and gave him a wave but he never showed his face :-() but also, seeing the spot where Martin Luther King gave his "I have a dream" speech from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. It was amazing to look as he did over the reflecting pool to the Washington Memorial and imagine it full of civil rights campaigners at such a turning point in history. We did get absolutely soaked mind as the heavens opened in tropical-storm like fashion. We managed to escape into the museum where we saw the Star Spangled Banner that inspired "The Star Spangled Banner" so that was a bonus - luckily all the museums in Washington, DC are free.

I'd read on-line about a legendary place that did chilli dogs and was a place that the then president-elect Barack Obama ate before he was inaugurated in early 2009. We managed to seek it out and had the chilli dog, fries and pink lemonade. It was fabulous - a chilli dog is basically a hot dog with mustard and onions in a bun smothered with chilli sauce (no beans - yaay!) and I can't imagine how anyone would eat one as a take-out. Back at Gil and Nancy's we had a bit of a jam session with Gil on his slide dulcimer. He caught on to the rhythms and chords pretty quick and we had lots of chat about Scotland and it's music and culture (more mild homesickness for me). We left the next morning feeling sorry that we couldn't stay with them longer as they were lovely people but all the Scottishness was making them fancy a visit across the water so hopefully we'll be able to welcome them to our home sometime soon.

The following morning was another day and another Greyhound to somewhere I was particularly excited about. The Big Apple!

Miami Vice

We never quite let ourselves believe we were actually leaving Cuba this time until the plane was actually taking off. But it did take off, and we did leave. Arriving in the Bahamas was a little strange. To get our connecting flight we had to go to a special terminal for US flights and enter the US officially there. At least it got customs and immigration over with nice and early. Security was of the usual unneccessarily unpleasant flavour. Sometimes you have to wonder how they train these people. The departure lounge was weird as well - more like T-bay with all the Bahaman crafts and boutique bits and pieces. Clearly there's only one type of American who visits the Bahamas - rich ones.

On the plane we sat in front of two guys boasting to eachother about crime levels, strip searches and their guns. It was as if they wanted the whole plane to know that they had been up to different, dangerous things and this somehow made them cool. It was very funny to listen to. The plane itself was a tiny little thing which at one point got a sharp kick sideways in the air and gave everyone a fright. Luckily Paul's over his fear of flying, right? Arriving in Miami was scary, I suppose. I'm always nervous when starting a new country and not knowing what to expect - we didn't have a hostel booked and weren't really clear on how to get where we intended to go. Plus it was night and we were hungry. But people were extremely friendly and helpful - so we found our hostel, and there were beds for us.

The US is weird, because it seems like it should be similar to the UK because of the language and of course there's a lot we feel we know about it because of films and TV. But at the same time it's so alien. The great thing about it is that we have all these assumptions we've made about the place because of the whole media thing, and all of them get disproved.

We'd also thought our Spanish days were over after leaving Cuba, but tis not so. Miami has a huge Cuban population so we actually found that most people were still speaking Spanish, and all the signs were in Spanish too. (In fact, I found myself automatically trying to interpret the Spanish translations, without thinking to read the bigger English sign above.) There were also Cuban flags all over the place - were we in fact still in Cuba? The main difference is that there Cubans are rich and influential, and you won't see a Viva Fidel poster anywhere. Otto told us that there are some very influential Cuban senators holding back any progress in improving US relations with Cuba, and that it's no coincidence that Florida was one of the key states involved in the re-election of Bush.

Miami also represented to us the return to food, and I'm ashamed to say we began our stay with a trip to McDonalds. There's so much for the consumer everywhere! Where would you start? Paul had dreams of making fajitas, but though we could now buy anything we needed in the supermarket, making that meal was another personal triumph. The kitchen in the hostel basically had 2 rings on a cooker, and a couple of pots. Not cutlery, not plates, no other equipment of any kind besides a microwave! We did pretty well with a few plastic forks and a pen-knife!

I'm not sure what my expectations of Miami were. We were staying in Miami Beach - the posh bit where all the holiday makers stay - everything was so clean and white and quiet and rich. And American. No-one could understand our accents except the Spanish speakers! On our second day we hired a car and Paul braved left-hand driving. I braved trying to navigate us out of the city. We triumphed and hit wide open highways listening to American radio stations heading for the Everglades National Park. The radio was particularly funny to listen to. Being in Cuba we'd forgotten all about advertising. And it was especially weird to hear medical procedures being advertised. Paul's favourite was 'Laser Vaginal Rejuvination.' It was so nice just to have the freedom of driving about, not worrying about which bus to catch, or walking to places. The Everglades is a big swamp area at the bottom of Florida mostly built upon alligator tourism. Really interesting. Really beautiful. It was a good day. And next... Orlando.

We caught the bus the next afternoon (we've bought Greyhound Discovery Passes which allow us free travel for 60 days on any route in the US and Canada - we just turn up an hour or so before the bus leaves. Great because our plans keep changing and last minute tickets are expensive.) We had a particularly hairy moment getting to the station though. For some reason Greyhound stations are hidden in obscure places out of the way - as if the Americans are ashamed of actually having long-distance public transport. The bus driver wasn't being overly helpful in telling us where to get off, and as a consequence dropped us in the middle of a highway with no pavement and no crossing. But a helluvalot of cars. The bus station was on the other side, and our only choice was to run with our big heavy bags. We were taking our life into our hands with that one!

Orlando was another weird place. It's one of those places that other people always went on holiday to when I was at school, but I'd never considered going to myself. And the outskirts is basically made up of theme parks - in fact, a whole big section of the highway is owned by Disney. Our day in Orlando, then, was to be spent at one of these theme parks - Seaworld's Aquatica (a water park recommended to me by someone I worked with). We made a great mission to get there - everywhere's very far apart - and when we arrived we found that everyone was British (I'm not exaggerating). We'd happened to come during British half term. I wonder if it would have been empty the week before or a week later. At least we weren't the palest people around any more. We've built up pretty good tans. Some of the Brits amazed me - they were there for the whole week, staying at one of the expensive hotels with all their kids, and going to a different park each day. Must have cost an absolute bomb. Never thought I'd say this, but it sounds like a huge amount of fun and maybe I'd consider doing that myself some day.

Anyway, it was all incredibly exciting. I managed to smuggle our food through the bag searches saying I had special dietary requirements. Well I do - I require not to spend extortionate amounts on theme park food. Not sure if the checker believed me, but she let it go. The security felt like it was of airport standards, and the rules were ridiculously strict. We spent the day splashing around on lots of different water slides and looking at dolphins with the colouring of orcas. Loads of fun.

We took the night bus away from Orlando. Everything was great up until that point - fun day at the water park, and everyone we met was so friendly and helpful. Including a strangely insightful man on the bus who spotted that Paul and I are married (most people assume we're just boyfriend and girlfriend because of my age) and who gave us some kind of contemplation card on compassion for other people. Perhaps he knew we were about to encounter an absolute arsehole of a security guard at the Greyhound station. As soon as we entered the building we were treated like idiots and criminals, and subjected to a thorough search while this guy was rude and insulting. Then to my horror they confiscated the bottle of rum we'd only just bought for our next hosts, and we only narrowly escaped having the penknife confiscated too (how would we survive without that?). The whole thing made my blood boil. The rules seemed so arbitrary and petty. The main guy was clearly an idiot on a power trip, and the other guy said he wished he'd been the one to find the rum - they were dividing our stuff up for themselves before we'd even left the checkpoint. Afterwards I wished I'd argued that as the rum still belonged to me (I just wasn't allowed to take it past security) and I'd bought it as a present, I still had the right to do with it as I wished. I should be allowed to go outside and give it as a present to anyone I wanted to. Or failing that, empty it into a bin. I certainly didn't want them to keep it. But I was too tired and upset to do anything daring. And we still wanted to keep the penknife.

So I leave you as we sit on the bus heading to meet our North Carolina friends from the Peru jungle trip, and our endless summer is finally ending. It's gloriously sunny, but noticeably colder. I can't wait for autumn -it's been a long time coming.