Video Interlude – Gone Shootin’ – Pennsylvania

Guns are bad, mmmkay?

Bear Mountain – Salisbury, CT

Stop the presses – I’ve had a revelation. I realised I should make the most of my time away. And whilst holed up in Stamford, not getting very far with actually figuring out anything to do with that time away – length, future plans, places to go and all that kind of malarkey – I found I really wasn’t making the most of anything. Apart from the well stocked off-license right across the street. Ahem.

So rather than sit on my tush the whole time, I got out of the house for a day and took a jaunt up to Bear Mountain in Northwestern Connecticut. I found out about the “mountain” by doing a search for “things to do in Connecticut” and goshdarnit if the very first hit didn’t prescribe to tell me everything there was to do in this wonderful state. Well, after a solid two to three minutes extra research, it turns out that perhaps there wasn’t a great deal to do in this wonderful state*, but the powers that be did seem very proud of their Bear Mountain, boasting the highest peak** in the whole state. So it seemed like a worthy cause, in spite of the 160 mile round trip to get there.

Once there, it was about a 7 mile circular hike with sections along the Appalachian Trail. It was hardly K2 (at 2300ft / 700m it wasn’t even Scafell Pike) but it was a pleasant enough escapade out in to the fresh air, even if I had ever so slightly underestimated how thick the snow was still going to be and foolishly dismissed the idea that clambering up steep slopes, across icy rocks, in the thick snow, whilst holding on to a leash with a psychotic dog at the other end wasn’t sensible.

The interesting thing about the day was the reminder that you don’t necessarily have to travel thousands of miles to see some spectacular sights. Indeed, amazing, beautiful, inspiring and challenging things sit right on our doorstep. For example, the views from parts of the Michoacan State in Mexico were arguably more beautiful than those from the top of Bear Mountain. But I often wonder if people instinctively look to further afield for the inspiration or getaway that they hanker after, convinced that it can’t possibly be right where they already are. I’m guilty of it – I know I am – and I’m pleasantly surprised to find myself appreciating beauty in so many more, different things and places, every day.

I will always encourage anyone and everyone to get out there and see the world. The revelation is that you can see it thousands of miles away in the middle of Africa or a couple of miles up the road.

Both are equally valid, in my book.

* For a 27 year old male. And a dog.
** But NOT the highest land OH NO! Intrigued? The highest land in Connecticut is on the slopes of Mt. Frissell which has its peak in neighbouring Massachusetts. So now you know.
*** The wind did a good job of drowning out my commentary. I believe I say: “This is Matt, at the top of Bear Mountain. 2300 ft… or thereabouts. It’s a little bit chilly.”

Crossroads – Stamford, CT

Crossroads. The title of one of Eric Clapton’s (well, Cream*) greatest tracks and an awful chick-flick starring Britney “bury me in a Y-shaped coffin**” Spears. But both (presumably***) discuss the same topic – being at a juncture in life with various paths ahead of you.

A little perspective: I have left Mexico and returned to the US for a brief repose from the whole travelling thing. It was reasonably easy to leave Mexico, 7 weeks in moreorless the same place (Puerto Escondido) was enough. The surf had dropped off and I had had my fill of beautiful beaches, perfect weather and an endless supply of cocktails. It was about 10 minutes in to the flight out, that I began to wonder if any of that was actually true. How, exactly, had I had my fill of the beautiful beaches, perfect weather and endless supply of cocktails? Why was I trading it all for cold weather, city life and American people?

Well I don’t have an answer for that. But for now I remain in Connecticut, considering my options. And making silly videos.

And onwards. Where should I go next? Answers in the comments please.

-MT

P.S. Apologies for taking so long to update
P.P.S. Double apologies for using a Phil Collins video in the previous post

* Well, Robert Johnson actually
** Definition, made popular by Blackadder
*** I wouldn’t know, I spent most of the film asleep (or wondering if Britney was likely to get her kit off)

One (More) Night in New York

Well, when I say “one night”, I, of course, mean “about 14 nights or so” in New York, but I’m sure there’s an expression along those lines. Maybe, it was “One Night in San Francisco”, but then I wasn’t in San Francisco so it wouldn’t have made a great deal of sense. In fact, technically speaking, I wasn’t even in New York (it was Stamford, Connecticut) so largely speaking it’s a nonsensical title and a peculiar way to start this latest entry.

Christmas in New York was a chilled out time, both psychologically and literally – the change in temperature from the highs of 6 weeks in tropical climates to snow on the ground in New York was expectedly a bit of a shock to the system. Beach one day, snow the next. I think I have given the perception of being a tad “underwhelmed” by New York in recent posts, bragging that I’ve been so many times now (well, 7 ish) that it has nothing to offer me, but I continue to return there so there must be something about the place that I like. In fact, it was a welcome break from the often stressful time of backpacking (as stressful as waking up with nothing to do, touring the countryside in the baking sun, sitting on the beach and drinking beer can be) but New York, or more specifically my brother’s house, offers an amount of sanity, which the shackles of pre-travelling life desire. And despite my apparent criticism of most things American, there is still a special vibe about the place and I do enjoy being there.

We managed one day of skiing and snowboarding. Personally, I ignored my self-imposed suggestion of taking snowboarding lessons and instead decided to wing it. I spent most of the first hour skidding down the hill on my hind quarters, but my surf skills soon kicked in and I was up and carving with the best of them in no time. Well that might be (yet) another exaggeration, but nevertheless I was doing it and loving every second of it. Previously, I’d wondered if there was any relationship between surfing and snowboarding, figuring on the basis of information from friends who do both, that there actually wasn’t. I’d also felt that I wouldn’t like to take up snowboarding for the simple reason that I would get really annoyed if I couldn’t do it regularly (one bonus of living in Guernsey is the opportunity to surf most days.) But I’ve changed my mind about both, and snowboarding holidays will definitely be in my plans for the future.

Christmas itself was a quiet affair – dinner with family on Christmas Eve and Day – good food, good drink and not a great deal else. New Year’s Eve was also chilled out – again a good dinner followed by a trip to The Thirsty Turtle in Stamford, a bizarre bar-cum-pub-cum-nightclub banging out the old school hip-hop, house and cheesy pop music. Save for a few extra decorations and a few extra clientele, it was pretty much identical to the previous time I was there, with the exception of the customary midnight countdown from Times Square. It was a good evening, extended marginally by a few more drinks at my brother’s house, until pass out, or other nocturnal activities, ensued.

The highlight of this trip to New York was had shortly in to the New Year. Firstly I was treated to a show on Broadway by Leo and Lina. I always find it a peculiar experience, especially when you go to a matinée showing. That is, you leave the insanity of the streets of New York, entering a glamorous theater with lots of well dressed people (and me) and then are engulfed by the atmosphere and glitz of the singing and dancing. And to do this all at two o’clock in the afternoon, when it’s still light outside and most other people are getting on with their daily lives just seems bizarre. But you only have to be in the theater for 10 minutes before you forget all that and lose yourself in the power of the show. We were watching Young Frankenstein, an adaptation of Mel Brooks’ 1970’s film. It was indeed spectacular, and very, very funny and certainly the best show I have seen in a theater. Admittedly, that accounts for about 5 total, but nevertheless it was a great time. In fact, it put the tacky cabaret show in Varadero in to perspective. That felt cheap and seedy, with poor choreography and just a great deal of arse. On Broadway, however, it’s a totally different fish. The set design is second to none, the music is fantastic, and the whole kit’n'caboodle just exudes class. Perhaps it’s not fair to compare cheap cabaret with a Broadway musical, but it was the feeling with which I was left. After the show, we made our way to New York’s oldest bar – McSorley’s – where they serve only two drinks. Light beer or dark beer. Ask for one, and you get two. And don’t expect to get a pint, or even a half – it’s literally a mugful – with a substantial amount of head** to boot. But the beer is excellent, and the pub has a charm and character unheard of in other bars. In there, the dust and cobwebs are actually a feature, adorning the numerous pictures and memorials of past presidents and famous folk.

The following day was Leo’s birthday and needed no better excuse for a pub crawl in Williamsburg, which, if my geography serves me well enough, is a suburb / division / region* of Brooklyn / Queens*. Either way, it’s full of bars and pubs and despite the dodgy weather and the first pub being “one in one out” (honest gov) the substitution for a Hookah bar made a great start to the proceedings. From there on in, we hit a few small bars, most of them playing a refreshingly old-skool mix of hip-hop and after a one or two many Irish carbombs (well, for certain members of our group, anyway) we were suitably pissed and in need of tacos. Three o’clock in the morning, pissed up in a taco shop somewhere in the New York area, surrounded by friends and having a great time, doesn’t get much better in my book. In fact, a fantastic lazy following day, where there was quite literally nothing on the agenda (in fact, looking for the agenda, which might only have had one entry on it – “look for the agenda”, would have been far too much effort), rounded off an extremely memorable weekend. So One Night in New York might not actually be such a ridiculous description for perhaps my most enjoyable visit to New York yet.

Needless to say, I will be back, endeavouring to explain the continuing enamourment I have with the place. But for now, my travels take me back to Mexico and Mexico City.

-MT

* Delete as appropriate.
** Snigger

New York… still.

I’m still in New York, about a week longer than I had originally planned. My travel plans have been compounded now twice but I hasten to add that my travel plans are a miniscule consideration compared with what is going on here. Initially, the plan was to make my way to the west coast of the USA, such as Los Angeles or San Diego, and use that as a stepping point into Mexico. Unfortunately, just as I was preparing myself to depart for San Diego, the forest fires hit, displacing some 250,000 people and causing no end of grief for the local residents. Fortunately, the situation there seems to be calming, but it’s unlikely to be the best time for me to pop down there for a quick visit.

So, the change of plan was to abandon the west coast and instead make my way down the east coast, to either Ft. Lauderdale, Miami or Nassau and head to a small island in the Bahamas, for a week’s downtime. From there I would go to Cuba, and then to Mexico and continue my trip as planned. As I was sat on hold to JetBlue.com arranging my flights, I was checking the weather forecast and was dismayed to see that some “scattered showers” were forecast for the area for the next week. It was then that I noticed a news headline “Deadly tropical storm Noel batters Cuba, heading for Bahamas” and which point I hung up the phone. Haiti and the Dominican Republic have so far felt the brunt of the storm with massive flooding and landslides, but in the next few days the storm is due to hit Cuba, the Bahamas and parts of southern Florida… all areas that I was due to go to, in the next few days. Although the storm should have passed by early next week, I’m still unsure whether it will be suitable to visit there “on holiday”, when so many people are likely to be recovering from the effects of a big storm.

So, for the timebeing it’s sit tight, see what happens and consider new plans. In the meantime, I’ve been having fun here in Stamford. I’ve done a wee bit of sightseeing, including a trip to Brooklyn, as well as a quick jaunt up to Harriman State Park – an amazing park on the border between New York and New Jersey.

I will update this as soon as I know what I’m doing.

-MT

New York

New York, New York. The Big Apple. Don’t think I’ve actually seen any apples, but it’s great being here anyway. Strictly speaking, I’m in Connecticut, staying with my brother in his new house in Stamford, but it seems that anyone within about 3 hours of said massive fruit describes themselves as living in New York.

I just need to get this out the way first: we were robbed. Rugby, that is. I don’t care what any of my South African friends say – we were robbed. (OK, maybe not robbed*.) But nevertheless England were the better side and a far-cry from the side that got drubbed 36-0 by the Springboks earlier in the tournament. Our attacking game was strong and that try could have gone either way. From where I was standing – about 12 foot from a widescreen TV in an Irish pub in Stamford, with at least one pair of beer goggles on and about 50 other English, South African, American and Irish people in a similar state – it was a try. Lewis Moody dropped the trophy for us, though, with that outrageous trip tackle – it was totally unnecessary and 6-3 would have been a much easier position from which to recover. But alas, it was not to be, and fair play to the Springboks for 80 minutes of solid defence. But equal amounts of fair play to Brian Ashton and the whole squad – nobody was expecting England to do so well and I’m pleased they were able to flick some V’s at the unbelievers. We can now look forward to regaining the cup in 4 years time.

Quick question: what the heck is the “biscuit” you get at KFC here?

For anyone reading who hasn’t seem them on Facebook, there are a few photos from, well, me getting drunk:

• Drunk in NY 1
• Drunk in NY 2
• Misc Stuff

I’d love to say that I’ve been making the most of time here, but that would probably be a lie. I mean, I’m getting pretty good at Tony Hawk’s Underground Wasteland, which is probably not time well spent. Since this is my third (maybe fourth?) visit to NY, I think the gloss has worn off a little, and so I’ve only been in to the City once. (It’s a one hour $20 train ride. And even that ended with a hangover.)

The crazy winking gal over there is my brother’s new dog – she’s a rescue dog from the local shelter who arrives later this week. She’s apparently a german shepherd collie mix, though we now suspect there may be a bit of bull terrier in her as well. She’s currently named Rain – so that’s clearly changing – and top of the list at the moment is Iggy.

I’m staying here for a few more days to help dogsit before moving on again. It’ll be good to get “on the road” again.

-MT

P.S. If you’ve never played, check it: Beer Pong – much amusement. (Being reasonable darts players ensured that my brother and I showed those sorry yanks a thing or two!)

* Let’s face it, if we lost we were sure to have been robbed.