We made it

We did it! (I was always taught at uni never to use exclamation marks but feel this is bloody well the right occasion for one).

After four thousand of miles, twenty-four different beds, nine different states, dozens of disgusting toilet experiences and one minor near-death-experience – we are finally here. In Yosemite National Park.

I have been internetless for a while so will try and fill you in on the interesting bits.

On Wednesday morning we left the shining lights and porn-filled streets of Vegas to start our two-day journey to Yosemite. We decided we had had enough of the bloody freeway so took the most direct, but slower, route through Death Valley which was an entirely odd experience. It’s a national park that’s famous for being completely barren – which made for a surreal driving day. The only way I can think to describe the place as it’s like in ‘The Neverending Story’ when that storm of nothingness slowly destroys the magical planet. The roads were pretty strenuous as well. You go from below sea level to 6,000 feet in a matter of miles as you navigate your way through severely winded narrow roads with vertigo-inducing drops on either side. The worst part was that we had to turn off our air conditioning to stop the engine from overheating…and Death Valley has the highest recorded temperatures in the USA. Rich and I almost melted and produced a disgusting amount of sweat from all sorts of surprising areas. Sweaty knee-pits anyone? Lovely juvley.

After another day’s driving we arrived at the beautiful Yosemite. We came in through Tioga Pass – which was still covered in snow and the scenery was breathtaking. We finally met up with my dad, uncle and cousins ready for my cousin’s wedding. I still can’t believe we made it in time.

Can I just say that weddings in America are wicked? You can get married anywhere you like by whoever you like. So in this instance my cousin got married right in the middle of Yosemite by her husband’s sister. Certainly beats the pretend-to-be-religious-or-pay-through-the-nose-for-a-pretty-venue decision brides face in Britain.

So with all the wedding hijinks over it was supposed to be the time to relax and enjoy our achievement. Rich and I are housesitting for my cousin in her detatched cabin right in the heart of Yosemite valley whilst she's on her honeymoon. Very calming. Or so we thought….

Unfortunately we are also dogsitting for her. And to say her dog is a handful is a little bit like saying Kerry Katona is a little common. It’s called Puck, but we’re considering renaming it Lucifer. It’s amazing how something so small can cause quite so much trouble. We were warned he was a little high-maintenance but only heard the words “free cabin in Yosemite Valley” and nodded enthusiastically. We moved in yesterday and haven’t slept since we got here. This is a run down of how the dog has kicked our asses in less time then it takes for the world to rotate once…

1) We went out to buy groceries for less than TWENTY minutes – in which time Puck managed to open my suitcase with his snout, and then find and eat an entire packet of Pistachio nuts and two protein bars whilst simultaneously trashing the place. Now the excess in protein has given him diarrhoea and he keeps doing giant and very unpleasant poos all over the park.

2) Puck seems to find my leg very attractive indeed. And for a creature so small he would make a very successful rapist. I have been violated on several occasions and when Rich tries to pull him off he gets a good humping as punishment. So technically we have both been raped and violated by a tiny dog. That wasn’t something on the holiday to-do list.

3) After his failed humping attempts, Lucifer….sorry I mean Puck….vents his frustration by attacking all the wedding presents. Before demanding to be let out in the yard to do yet another protein-bar-induced poo.

4) At night time Puck doesn’t deem in necessary for anyone to have any sleep. So every five minutes from before 2am this morning until 7am he found it appropriate to catapult himself onto our sleeping bodies and blow dog breath in our face to wake us up. When we tried to lock him out of the bedroom to stop this behaviour he responded by howling like crazy and clawing at the door relentlessly. Rich and I were supposed to be hiking up the side of a waterfall today but we are too tired to move from the sofa and have spent our time planning how to accidentally drop the dog over the side of a waterfall instead.


So anyone who may have been jealous about our Yosemite set-up can be rest assured that we’re far from having a fabulous time. I am, at this moment, supposed to be at an elevation of over 4,000 feet watching water cascade over the edge of an amazing waterfall…..instead I have joined a website called ‘PetForums’ to beg web-savvy doglovers for advice. That I suppose is what you call karmic balance. The only redeeming part of the situation is that Puck doesn’t respond to English accents so Rich and I have to speak to him with American voices. Which is quite entertaining to witness when Rich is proper losing his temper but, at the same time, sounding like a character from ‘American Pie’.

So that’s the news. Anyone with the vaguest knowledge of dog-behaviour tricks who might know how we could get some sleep without resorting to homicidal behaviour please tell me what to do. That said, the dog is pretty cute when it’s not being a total psychopath.

Lots of love

A very sleep deprived Holly.

xxx

The Vegas

Viva Las Vegas?

Err....I'd rather not. Sorry Elvis.

OK OK so I'm a boring person. Shoot me. Or shoot me up with something - but I'm afraid I'm not a big fan of the Vegas. It's been fun. But probably never again.

That's not to say the place isn't extraordinary. We drove here yesterday from Arizona, pretending to be Hunter S Thompson through the more deserty parts, and arrived at around 3pm. That's the first thing you notice about The Vegas. It is literally in the middle of nowhere. I'm not quite sure what logic was behind building a massive leisure facility in such an uninhabitable place - but you really are out in the sticks. You drive for hours through nothingness, praying your car doesn't break down, and suddenly the Strip appears on the horizon like a mirage exposing all of its neon crudeness.

The next big thing you notice about The Vegas. It is hot. Like, unnaturally hot. You feel like you're melting like a wax candle the moment you step outside. When you look out the car window the view is actually wobbling in the heat. Sightseeing is near-impossible until after 6pm. We spent most of today near the safe cool haven of the pool - and it was so hot it actually melted THE SPINE OF MY BOOK so all the pages fell out.

So we've spent two nights doing all the things you're supposed to do. It's an odd experience because you've seen the hotels and landmarks so many times on films and tv that seeing them in real-life takes an edge off the wow factor. But there's certainly a lot to look at. Yesterday we hit Ceasers Palace, Paris, New York New York, and the Bellagio. Your mouth does fall open when you get up close and get a sense of a mass scale of the place - and exploring the outside of the hotels can be a pastime in itself. However the insides are disappointingly...similar. Yeah, in Ceasers Palace there's the odd statue and interesting sh*t on the ceiling - but slot machines are still slot machines, gross old gambling addicts are still gross old gambling addicts, and slaggy looking white trash girls are still slaggy looking white trash girls. It's hard to remember which casino you're in.

We spent tonight exploring the indoor canal of the Venetian, having a Chanel handbag taken out of my hands in a designer boutique (they could obviously tell I didn't have any money and therefore just snatched it away like a strict mother - I felt like Julia Roberts in 'Pretty Woman'), saw the giant artificial mountain they've built recently, and watched the Pirate show outside Treasure Island which really should be re-named 'The Pirate Porn Show' because it merely consisted of past-it slappers in bikinis writhing around on a pirate ship like porn stars whilst confused parents covered the eyes of their bewildered children.

And I think that's what I dislike about Vegas. Yeah it's huge. Yeah you can have a lot of fun here. But there's this unavoidable seediness about the place that leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Walking from hotel to hotel becomes a artform and you have to dodge and duck like a boxer whilst making your way through, what I like to call, the many 'Porn Gauntlets'. As you navigate the insane pedestrian traffic it's impossible to avoid the hundreds of workers wearing tee-shirts emblazoned with 'GIRLZ DIRECT 2 U' who shove postcards of women pleasuring themselves into your hands. And, despite everything being vast and sensational, the whole Strip just seems entirely pointless. I mean, do we really need to build a pyramid with a beam of light that can be seen from space? Is it essential to build a replica Statue of Liberty? And is it useful to put a Lion in a casino? I dunno. Maybe I'm a killjoy, and I've always been more of a neurotic than a hedonist, but I just don't get it.

I think a huge contributing factor could be that The Vegas isn't somewhere to go when you're broke. We're staying in a hotel off the Strip and can't even afford the bus fare in - so have to brave the heat and walk. This morning I woke up to find a cockroach in my bed, which was so unbelievably awful words can't even describe it. Everything we wanted to do - we can't afford. Going up to the top of the Stratosphere will cost $35. Tickets to see a show cost £100 each. They don't even let you put quarters in the slot machines anymore - they've made them notes only. Hell - I can't even window shop in Chanel without being treated like a common criminal.

So I don't like Vegas. No doubt you'll come here and you'll love it. And you'll think 'Oh my God that Holly Thompson is so BORING. I can't believe she doesn't like having free porn thrust upon her.' And hey - that's your choice. But I, for one, don't think I will be making a return journey. Well, unless I win the lottery (which will be hard because I don't play it) and then I can return and go into Chanel decked out in designer gear and be rude to the shop assistant.

We leave tomorrow. It's a two day drive to Yosemite. And that's it. Road trip is over. Wow. We'll spend a week and a half in the National Park, then it's onto San Francisco and home... Mental stuff.

So I better go and check the room for cockroaches. Again. And then probably again. And then I might shower. Again. And spray some more antibacterial spray around again.


Love

Holly xxx

Getting spiritual (and aggressive) in Sedona

Sedona.

Wow man. The energy of this place is just, like, awesome. I just feel so totally rejuvenated by the spirituality of the place. Yesterday I hiked up this mountain and I, like, totally realised how, like, truly insignificant I am in the vast chasms of time. And it was, like, completely humbling but also, you know, like totally comforting at the same time. And I just, like, realised just how totally incredible nature is and the world is just, like, so completely beautiful and we all need to worship it, and run around naked, and sweat without washing and then, like totally, hump each other....

ONLY JOKING!!!

I'm in Sedona, Arizona - mecca for New-Age mentalists who believe the red rocks here have rejuvenating powers and pilgrimage here so they can all act like total funny-farm-residents together.

The truth? The place is beautiful. And if you can bypass the weirdos it's definitely worth a visit.

Yesterday, with two determinedly open minds, Rich and I decided to hike to one of the famous 'Vortexes' of the place. I can't remember if I explained before, but basically people in Sedona believe there are four vortexes (like tornadoes but safer and cheerier) in the area, that upon visiting will fill you with euphoria and contentment for several days afterwards.

Us being us - we decided to pick the most difficult one to get to. Cathedral Rock. Mainly because it looked pretty on Google images. The vortex is apparently right underneath the base of the rock which you have to hike/climb to. All the websites had warnings saying stuff like 'This hike is very strenuous and dangerous' or 'Don't do this if you are scared of heights', and 'in less than a mile you go up in serious altitude and lots of people can't handle it'. Us being us - sniffed at this - and assumed the warnings were probably written by lazy obese Americans who only found it hard because they couldn't drive there and there wasn't a MacDonald's at the top.

So, in the heat of the day, we drove up to the trail starting line. And promptly gulped. There was another warning sign. This time written by Red Rock park officials telling us the hike was difficult. And Cathedral Rock looked very far away. And its base seemed very high off the ground. But we decided to see how far we could go....

It seems strenuous exercise isn't conducive to a happy relationship...

For the first five/ten minutes Rich and I got on swimmingly. We strode along, holding hands, stopping to admire the view, and smugly telling each other how beautiful it was and how we were so glad we came...

...Then we were faced with climbing (not hiking, CLIMBING) to the summit up a sheer cliff face. We had already drunk most of our water. And the arguments started.

Me: Do you mind if we stop again? My lungs might actually be collapsing.
Rich: No - it's fine. I don't mind.
Me: Well why don't you sit down with me?
Rich: I don't want to sit down.
Me: So you do mind stopping? You think I'm lazy don't you? You don't fancy me because my lack of fitness repulses you - doesn't it?
Rich: I don't mind. I just don't' want to sit.
Me: I don't mind if you do mind...I just want you to be honest with me.
Rich: I am being honest with you.
Me: Then why aren't you sitting with me?
etc etc

And then...
Me: I can't believe you didn't bring climbing shoes...
Rich: Was I supposed to have brought climbing shoes?
Me: Of course. God, if I had known you had only brought your old trainers with no grip I would have had a go at you.
Rich: You're having a go at me now...
Me: Well I want to go to the top.
Rich: I don't think we can - it's too dangerous.
Me: It's only dangerous for you because your wearing your stupid shoes and you didn't bring climbing shoes.
etc etc

And then when we finally reached the top....
Me: Let's go over there and explore that part.
Rich: It's too dangerous.
Me: No it's not. It's part of the trail.
Rich: I don't see the trail.
Me: It's blatantly part of the trail. I want to go see it.
Rich: I'm not going. It's too dangerous.
Me: . Well I'm going. If it's too dangerous for you, you can just wait for me here.
Rich: **###&&&*** .

(Can I point out that I'm not usually such a psycho. And we've gone a month without arguing and it WAS really really hot - and he WAS wearing stupid shoes!)

But it was worth the bickering, the dehydration, and the vertigo. When we got to the top it was just incredible. The view was insane and the red-rocks just look like they're painted onto a background. We did notice there was a strong wind and stood in it to see what happened. To be honest, it did feel good. But that was because it was a strong breeze in 100f heat. And I don't really understand why having wind blow hard beneath a tall object makes it a vortex and not just science? It was just the same as the breeze you got outside the bottom of the Arts Tower in Sheffield - and you didn't see bangle-adorned hippy mentalists hiking through the Union to worship the bottom of the Arts Tower. Well, OK, apart from the odd stoned Philosophy student.

SO that was yesterday. Today we had even more fun. Without the bickering. We spent the day at Slide Rock State Park - which I can only describe as a massive outdoor version of the rapids at Centre Parcs. It's a river made from melted snow (so the water is freezing!) that has churned out all these natural water chutes, rapids, and deep diving points out of the rock. The place was packed full of the happiest group of people I have ever seen. Men, women, children, grandmas, grandpas, were all hurtling themselves down the water using only their bodies with giant grins plastered across their faces. Rich and I managed to drum up the courage to jump off a pretty-high rock into the freezing water below - but were too scared to go tombstoning. The rapids were so so much fun. As I said, like Centre Parcs, but about a mile long and real - not made from plastic.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really quite liked Sedona. It's funny how it's been working out. All the places I think I'll love - I usually don't like very much. And all the places I'm sceptical about turn out to be wicked. But I'll be glad to get away from the place after seeing in a real pharmacy them recommending the use of a PILLOW MADE FROM SAGE to cure headaches. What's wrong with four Nurofen washed down with a whiskey? Bloody hippies.

Tomorrow we start the two-day drive to Vegas. I'm slightly concerned about Vegas. Mainly because I've made the mistake of starting the second 'Girl With Dragon Tattoo' book and now resent having to do anything in life that isn't reading it. Which reminds me - I need to find out what happens!

Peace, love, and sloshings of bulls*it

Holly

xxx

Holy cow - it's the Grand Canyon

"Is it bad that I'm not that bothered about seeing it?" I asked Rich yesterday.

"I mean, I know everyone raves on about it, and I know it will probably be amazing - but it just seems like a massive windup."

Let me just tell you one thing. When people bang on about how awesome the Grand Canyon is.... let them drone on. They're completely justified. Go and see it. I don't want to hear your excuses. Just go and see it now before you DIE.

I admit I was rather reluctant about going. I mean, OF COURSE, we were going to go to the Grand Canyon on our road trip. It's like the law. It's just what you do. But I wasn't particularly excited. How good can a pile of rocks be? There wasn't even a 3D cinema.

To make matters worse, because the place is such a mahoosive big deal, going there is a giant mission. We were warned crowds would be terrible, that we would die of old age before we found a parking place, that all your photos would be taken over pushy tourists heads.

So it was to my surprise that I found myself waking up at 5am this morning to go somewhere I wasn't particularly interested in. 5am? The last time I got up that early was to queue up for the £5 Anna Hindmarsh bags at Sainsburys.

But thank the Baby Jesus we did. We arrived just after 6am and found the place blissfully peaceful. Nothing can prepare you for seeing the place. No photographs, no films, no crappy bloggers pathetic attempt at description. When you catch your first glimpse through the pine trees your mouth literally drops open. Uncontrollably. Like you've just watched that scene in Speed for the first time when Keanu is hanging under the bus, his white tank top splattered with oil and his biceps bulging.... Basically the Grand Canyon is like the Keanu of nature. Excellent.

Again, Americans seem very laid back about letting tourists explore. You can easily scramble over rocks and hang your legs over tummy-wrenchingly-steep drops for the best photos. And dear lord do you take a lot of photos. Every single view from every single place you stand is so jaw-droppingly awesome that you develop some kind of photo-taking OCD. Unfortunately, this morning I woke up with special gravity-defying hair and my eyebrows have appeared to be bleached off by the sun. So in all my photos - which will no doubt be framed on the mantelpiece for my entire lifetime - I look like the baby from Family Guy if he'd just put his fingers into a live socket.

Due to our early-rising antics, Rich and I had a good hour or two where we had the place pretty much to ourselves. We hiked about 5 miles across the rim - stopping to take many ridiculous photographs. Yes, I admit, there is one of me pretending to be Mufussa from the Lion King roaring on a makeshift Pride Rock. But by 9am the place was completely packed and you felt like you were at Disney Land. There was a remarkable amount of fat people there as well. Definitely the largest mass-obese-sighting we've seen since we got here. Perhaps they all come to the Canyon so they can stand next to it and feel thinner?

We left after about 6 hours and returned to our cute little hotel in Williams, Arizona. It's a genuine Route 66 town and great fun. Classic cars pour through the narrow streets, stopping for pizza or a place to sleep. The hotel we're staying at is the oldest in the whole state and we've got this darling (and surprisingly cheap) room that overlooks the road so we can watch all the 66-pilgrimagers rattle by.

Tomorrow we head to Sedona - which we're both quite appehensive about. It's famous for it's red rocks and supposed to be beautiful. But the place also attracts people (mentalists) from all over the world who believe the town has 'energy vortexes' hidden in the landscape that transport you to a genuine and long-lasting state of euphoria. I think it's going to be a bit hoovy-groovy and bollocksy - but hopefully with nice views. Apparently you can only experience the intense euphoria of the vortex if you are 'spiritually open' - and as Rich and I are about as spiritual as a ferret we think we're going to spend most of the time laughing at people.

So that's the Grand Canyon. Don't suppose there's much you can say about it other than the usual cliches... It's beautiful. It's intimidating. It's awesome. And you absolutely positively have to go and see it for yourself.

Peace out

Holly xxxx

Whatever you do, don't turn on the television...

Ideally, I would like you to think I have spent all my time in the States flitting from one life-changing experience to the next whilst reading 16th century literature in-between.

But, in reality, a majority of my/our time has been spent cooped up in strange motel rooms in strange places with only a television for comfort. And we have viewed a shocking amount of television. Not so much because the television here is good but more because it’s a bit like rubbernecking on the motorway. You just can't not look at it.

After a month of surfing cable channels, I have made some fascinating discoveries about American television to share with thee. (Mainly because I've spent two days driving and therefore have nothing else to bore you with). So here it is. American television.

You can't escape the commercials
Come back BBC and your political correctness gone haywire - all is forgiven. My estimation is that American television is 20 per cent telly programs, and 80 per cent commercials. It's insane. They manage to crowbar them in everywhere. For instance - you know Friends? And you know they have the funny bit before the credits start? And then they have the funny bit as the credits are rolling at the end? Well this is how an episode of Friends is screened in the USA.

- Opening funny bit "Oh I'm Chandler, I'm sarcastic and fear commitment yadda yadda" AD BREAK
- Friends theme tune and about 5 minutes of the program
AD BREAK
- 10 mins (if you're lucky) of more Friends. "Oh, I'm Pheobe. My character isn't based on any form of reality at all. Ooo look I'm being kooky yadda yadda.
AD BREAK
- More Friends til finish. "Oooh look Rachel and Ross are staring intently at each other again."
ANOTHER AD BREAK
- End credit bit "Ohhh I'm Joey, I'm going to say something stupid."
AND THEN ANOTHER AD BREAK.

Seriously. Now wonder all those consumers were crushed to death in shopping malls on Black Friday. You can't not be a consumer here if you own a television. You just innocently switch it on to check the weather and within two minutes you suddenly can't live without a Cinnamon Whirl, a power drill and erectile dysfunction medication.

Every medicine commercial out here is so hysterical it will bring tears to your eyes
About every other advert during the many commercial breaks you watch are plugging some new miracle drug for diabetes/heart problems/contraceptive pill etc. Not only is it weird to see something as necessary as MEDICINE being activiely advertised, the commercials seem to build up how amazing this new drug before totally scaring the crap outta you.

I think there must be some sort of legal requirement that you have to outline every single possible side effect of a drug you're advertising. And the outcome just makes the commercial completely futile. It kind of goes a little bit like this....

Happy lady voiceover: I used to have really bad piles. They were so bad they ruined my life and I never left home. But since using ‘Pilesrgreat’ my world has changed for the better. There’s no more pain, no more bloating, and you only have to take this small pill the size of an atom once a day. Ask your doctor to prescribe you Pilesrgreat…

So the medication sounds good. You’re thinking ‘Wow, I don’t even have piles but I might go and buy some just in case.”

BUT THEN this deep voiceover will interrupt the happy lady’s montage and tell you absolutely everything single thing that could go wrong if you took this medicine.

Voiceover man: Pilesrgreat cannot be used if you have piles. Some people who use Pilesrgreat may experience sudden and inexplicable death, anal bleeding, their eyeballs rotting, erectile dysfunction, the inability to ever talk ever again, unexplained elephantitis, full-body acne, chronic insomnia, epilepsy, or even worse piles than when you started.

It’s hysterical! Why on earth BOTHER advertising this drug if you’re just going to un-do all your good work by telling everyone how awful it is. Mental. Absolutely mental.

God is with you. On every channel.
OK – so we have Songs of Praise. That’s about it on the enforced religious indoctrination via the medium of television in England. And it’s not that bad really is it? Your Nan likes it. It’s over within an hour. And you can always flick over to T4 and watch Alexa Chung pretend she’s not totally anorexic.

But in America – there’s no escaping God. Oh no. God blesses America. Did you know that? No other country. And because he’s gone out of his/her/its way to bless them especially – he earns the right to be on the bloody television at any given time. Channel surf any time, night or day, and you will find either a televised church service, gospel choir singing, or life-coach telling a packed stadium they have to let God into their lives. My personal favourite is the cross-eyed nun (see below video) we found who spends her time trying to indoctrinate children in the early hours of the morning. I can’t help but wonder….if God really cared…then why has he given this nun two lazy eyes? Hardly seems like a fair deal for a lifetime of servitude.

There is a reality TV program about EVERYTHING
So you think there’s too much reality TV in England do you? Admittedly, watching Rebecca Loos toss off a pig was a down point, and let’s not even go down the Jade Goody road, but we’ve really not got it bad. Like everything else, America has taken a good idea and put it on steroids. And their reality tv is another example of this. You can gain insight into anything. Your teenage daughter is pregnant? Well so is that lady-on-the-telly’s. Think your boyfriend is cheating on you? Let’s spy on them and expose them live on air! But the absolute best has to be ‘Billy The Exterminator’. Yes. I’m not kidding. There is (a surprisingly popular) tv series here that follows an exterminator around. His name is Billy. He is basically what you would call ‘White Trash’. He dresses all in black and has large metal spikes protruding from every article of clothing he wears. And he believes in ‘natural’ methods of extermination. I’m not sure how many hours of this trip I have lost to Billy and his unique extermination ways. But it’s becoming a compulsion. His highlights so far include sucking up cockroaches with a hoover (surely anyone can do that?), and capturing a 10-foot Python by letting it attack his arm, before squeezing its head so hard it lets go, then shovelling the giant beast into a tiny icecream tub and laughing at it.

So that’s all my amazing insights so far. God I miss the BBC.

I’m supposed to be going to sleep very soon as we’re going to the Grand Canyon tomorrow.

So I better leave you all – but don’t worry – you have the cross-eyed nun to keep you company (though the video quality is naff so you have to wait til the end to get full exposure to the double-eye-disability).

Lots of love and commercial breaks

Holly xxx

Trouble in Taos

Trouble in Taos. Yeah, you could put it that way.

It's a pity really because I really love this place.

Yesterday we drove another fantastic road further up into the mountains so we could spend two nights in Taos. Famous for its breathtaking Muesli-advert-style mountain backdrop and perilous skiing routes. The place is everything we wanted Santa Fe to be but wasn't.

However, when it came to accommodation, we decided to take a gamble. Gasp. Instead of spending two nights in a nice normal motel like nice normal people do - we booked ourselves into an Earthship....

What in the name of Baby-Jesus is an Earthship I hear you ask? Well, I'll try my best to explain which will be difficult because I didn't read the welcome manual.

Close your eyes and picture the Tellytubby house. Then blend it with a spaceship and position it in the absolute middle of nowheresville. An Earthship is a totally off-the-grid style home that has a carbon footprint of absolute zilch. It's a completely self-sustaining property made entirely of recycled materials. The architecture is a little Gaudi-inspired which is impressive considering the entire place is made of bottletops, recycled Coke cans, and dirt. Water is collected from the roof and used four times for maximum usage and electricity is powered by giant solar panels that adorn the roof of the structure. As if that's not quite weird enough - there's an indoor jungle which forms part of your home complete with parrots and exotic plants. Oh Yeah. And the toilet is in this jungle so you basically pee outside.

I'm not sure why we decided to stay here. I would love to say its because we're conscious of our carbon footprint after flying to the USA, burning through it at 90 mph, then flying back again....But really it's just because we thought it would be fun.

And it is fun. Well it was.

The place is amazing. It's cheaper than a standard motel but it's like staying in a 5-star-resort (apart from the peeing outside business). I mean, where else can you stay where you get your own jungle? The best part is that it's in the middle of nowhere. After weeks of paper-thin walls of motels, busy restaurants, and even busier roads - being out in the sticks is so therapeutic.

Last night we went outside to watch the sunset over the mountains, smug in the knowledge we're having a truly once-in-a-lifetime-experience. We commented on how wonderful it was that the nearest Earhship was almost a mile away, savoured the isolation, and admired the sun's descent as the air turned cold and cloaked us in darkness.

Then we realised the f*cking hippy idiots that run the joint didn't forewarn us that our door automatically locks behind us...

I can't adequately describe the suffocating sense of panic that overwhelmed me when I realised we had locked ourselves out. I'm surprised I continued breathing. We tried everything to open the door. Tried picking the lock with a hairpin, finding a different route inside, and Rich even tried brute force to smash it in. Everything was locked inside the place. Our car keys, our phone, our jumpers. And we were alone, without any of it, in the wilderness.

After about fifteen minutes of catastrophic swearing we realised our only option was to go and find help. In the desert. In the dark. The Earthships are part of a 'community', though a very spaced-out community, and lots of people lived here and would be willing to help. Or so we thought.

When we got to our first Earthship we frantically knocked on the door, and were relieved when it opened. The relief was short lived however...

Us: (assumed best English accent) Hi. Sorry to bother you but we're in a bit of a pickle. We're renting that Earthship that you see is a spot on the horizon and we've locked ourselves out. We've walked here and was wondering if you could help us in any way as we're essentially f*cked and about to die.
Man who answered door: We only just arrived here ourselves and don't have the number of anyone who can help you.

Lovely fellow.

We walk to the next couple of Earthships only to discover NOBODY is home. Until we finally get through to another charming gentlemen...

Us: Repeat previous speech
Unhelpful man no. 2: Aww man. I was just about to go to bed. And I've had such a hard day. I really need my sleep.
Us: Well we are sorry to disturb you. But if you could just help us.
Unhelpful man no. 2: Well I can't really help. You need to speak to so-and-so. He might be able to help. He lives over the hill . I'm sure if you walk there he might be in and might be able to help. Man I'm tired. I was just drifting off to sleep as well.

So we started to walk aimlessly through the mountain desert towards some random person's house that might be able to help. It's dark. It's cold. It's scary. And we're about 7 miles away from a town with no car. But hey. Surely things couldn't get any worse could they? I mean. That would just be impossible? Odds are - nothing else could happen to makes situations less improved. That would just be cruel.

Oh hang on. What's that in the road? Oh yes. I know what that is. IT'S A PSYCHOPATHIC DOG RUNNING TOWARDS US GROWLING AND ABOUT TO KILL US BOTH.

Seriously I understand why people use dogs as weapons now. I have never feared for my life as much as I did when that dog came at us. We did the only thing we could do. We ran away. Were forced to run far far away from the only direction where there might be any chance of help.

I think I can admit, without shame, that this was the point where I started crying. We started making our way back to our Earthship and decided we would have to smash our way in somehow. When suddenly, out in the distance, we saw the angelic beam of two headlights coming in our direction. So we stood in the car's path and waved our arms frantically at the car like we were in the bloody Railway Children or something.

Luckily, the car pulled over and a lady wound down her window. Just as I was about to launch into our apologetic monologue she hushed us with the words...

"I've been driving looking for you. My husband (unhelpful man no.1) told me there were two English people who were locked out and wandering the desert alone and I thought the least I could do would be to offer my help"

Really? You think? Well unlike your moronic husband you're actually a nice kind human being.

So to cut a long story short (which includes at some point her driving us to an Earthship employees house where the employees fully-grown husband was playing Harry Potter outside in the dark and we kept heaing him yell 'Expelliarmus') we FINALLY found someone who knew someone who had a master key and we got back in.

The End.

I'm afraid that took a rather long time to tell didn't it?

So I'll try and squeeze as much none-near-death-related-Taos news in as quickly as possible.

1) Taos is, without a doubt, the nicest place we've been to so far. You should all come here. The views are insane.

2) We have found the world's best diner that serves the most incredible New Mexican food. It's full of tattooed bikers, pierced lesbians, authentic cowboys and wise-looking Native Americans. Had scrambled eggs with green Chile this morning.

3) Taos also has the 2nd highest bridge in the whole of the US - which stretches out over a huge canyon. We ventured out over it on foot yesterday and we were so high my legs did actually turn to jelly from Vertigo. I thought I was being a yellowbelly again, until I looked at Rich (who loves heights) and saw he had turned a delightful green colour and his knees were also buckling.

4) Taos is also home to the largest-existing multi-storyed Pueblo structure in the US. We really got our 'Native American' kick there. The place was just so old and beautiful and sacred and primitive and just...wonderful. However we had to make a sharp exit after we read in the handbook about the river that runs through it and how the people there believe the river is so sacred that nobody and nothing can touch it to contaminate it. They take this very seriously. So, in true, tourist mode, I looked down to take a picture of this amazingly-sacred river that must not be contaminated - and my sunglasses fell off my face into the water.

Oops.

So that's it. I could prattle on about the beauty of the mountains etc for days but feel I have prattled enough.

Tomorrow is gong to be a boring driving one. We're exiting the mountains and beginning our slow descent to Arizona and the Grand Canyon.

Hope you are all well and not getting stranded in deserts and contaminating Holy water with New Look eyewear.

Love and such

Holly xxx

Altitude and Anal Clensing

So we're somewhere different again.

I suppose that's the way these road trip things work.

I am writing this from a cheap road-side (and cowboy themed) motel just on the outskirts of Santa Fe. Assuming you knew as little about the place as I did before I came here, allow me to enlighten you with the knowledge I have gleamed about this city in the previous two days. It's the oldest capital city in the country and is nestled comfortably in the mountains at 10,000 ft so wherever you look there is a breathtaking view. It's picturesque setting lures artists from all over the country to move here and live a bohemian lifestyle fannying around in the hundreds of art galleries that line the narrow streets.

And it certainly lives up to the 'artistic' cliche. Every available wallspace has been adorned with the brushstrokes of painted murals, people walk around with paintbrushes deliberately poking out of their trouserpockets, and this evening on the plaza someone had managed to drag a harp onto the grass so they could out-pretentiousness everyone else by playing it whilst simultaneously singing opera. It's like the Mecca for all middle-class people trying to reject their upbringing by believing they have more talent at their hobby than they really do and attempting to make it in a career.

Can you tell I'm maybe not the hugest fan of the place? It's a shame because Santa Fe has been so built up by every American we've spoken to. Since Miami we've been told how beautiful/fabulous/artistic/inspiring the place is - but personally I find it a little lacking in soul. I mean, it's beautiful, but it's so..discovered. You can't breathe for the tourists swarming the streets (Yes - I know I am one so therefore I'm a giant hypocrite yadda yadda yadda), their arms bursting with overpriced (and largely pretty crap) artwork they've bought. Then traffic is terrible. The drinks are overpriced. In fact, everything is overpriced. So much so that Rich and I's dinner tonight consisted of a cereal bar, some nuts, and a can of V8 juice. But hey, what do I know? If the city was enough to lure the likes of Georgia O'Keefe and D.H. Lawrence then maybe I'm missing something.

The nature is still pretty good though. We took the scenic road here called 'The Turquoise Trail' which was utterly breathtaking and very fun to drive. Lots of swerving and steep drops and I longed for a stick-shift so I could tear it up more.

Today we retreated to the mountains and braved open nakedness so the sake of a more spiritual experience. We went to a Japanese spa called '10,000 waves' and its sole existence has made me warm to Santa Fe. For the small sum of $18 each, we were handed large kimonos and given unlimited time in the water pools. Set with the mountains as a backdrop we could use the hot spa bath, wet and dry saunas, plunge pool and sundeck while we watched hummingbirds buzz around us. Amazing. The place was so posh that the toilet seats were heated (!?) and had a button you could push to get your arsehole washed with a water jet!!!! The only slight drawback was that swimwear was optional and nobody was opting to wear it. There was a communal tub - which was supposed to be men and women's - but all the women were in the ladies-only tub. So when I tentatively entered with Rich in tow I was surrounded by more willies than a prostitute on a Friday night. Seriously - these men weren't shy about whacking it out there and dangling it in and out of the water like a Tetley teabag. I lasted about five minutes before I whispered to Rich I would meet him in two hours and hastily ran over to the ladie's-only tub, safe in the knowledge I will never want to eat any sort of sausage casserole ever again. Ewww.

So that's Santa Fe. Not my most uplifting of blog entries so sorry. Tomorrow we're driving to a smaller mountain town called 'Taos' and have made the brave decision to stay in an 'Earthship'. More details to follow in next blog - but I think it's going to be a strange couple of days.

Hope you are all well and not too pissed at the football. I am having to re-watch the game for the third time now in the motel room. Sigh.

Lots of love

Holly xxx

How do you spell it again?

You know that scene at the end of American Beauty when Kevin Spacey gets shot in the head and just as he's dying he realises how beautiful the world can be?

Well you don't need to get blown to pieces by your closet homosexual neighbour to come to this conclusion...You just need to come to Albuquerque. Someone should have told him really.

Seriously this place is like nature heroin. And after four long days of tarmac, the mountains are a very welcome change of scenery.

We're staying in a slightly odd place. After nights in plain sub-standard motels, we decided to blow our budget and book two nights in this Victorian B&B where Elvis and Janis Joplin have stayed previously. Or so they say. We booked the cheapest room which wasn't cheap in any way, shape, or form - but it boasted a view of the mountains and we figured any room in this place would be lovely.

Well it is lovely here. The owner is an wonderful chap who sat us down the moment we arrived with a map to tell us the best places to eat and offered us home-baked cookies. But the illusion of grandeur was ever-so-slightly ruined when he led us to a shoebox and told us this was our room. Admittedly, it's a very pretty shoebox, but the lack of space is somewhat challenging. Especially when you have three large suitcases and there's not even space on the floor for one. And the view of the mountains is beautiful...with a pair of binoculars. Despite feeling slightly like sardines in a can, I do love the place and it's the perfect place to explore such an interesting city.

We've managed to squeeze a lot of nature stuff in the two short days we are here. Yesterday I braved my fear of heights to take the world's longest cable car ride up a 10,000 foot mountain. The impending sense of doom as my entire life flashed before me with the jarring realisation that I've not achieved anything of any note in my 24 long years(see photo), was definitely a small price to pay for the amazing view. You could practically see the whole state. Truly a once-in-a-lifetime thing which I suppose is what this is all about.

Then this morning we hiked (I know - very American!) through the Petroglyph National Monument. Don't worry. I had no idea what that was either about two days ago. But again, it was amazing. It's a rocky mountain-like terrain with thousands of ancient pictures carved into the volcanic rock by the Pueblo people. Again, Americans seem very low-key about letting visitors get up close to exhibits and the hikes took us right up to all the rocks. A truly incredible experience.

Another spiritual experience one can gain from a visit to New Mexico comes from their brilliantly amazing superb food. If you don't like spicy food - you will probably starve. And it serves you bloody well right. The state question is, after all, 'Red of Green Chilie?'. But if you like chilies this is gastronomical heaven. Yesterday we feasted on giant green chilies stuffed with cheese before being dipped in batter and fried. This morning, we breakfasted on green chilie omelets with savoury scones and chilie jam. And lunchtime was randomly guzzled in the back of a pharmacy (it's where all the locals go so you know the food is authentic. God that sounded wanky) where I devoured a massive bean burrito swimming in a sea of green chilies.

When we've not been enjoying the landscape or stuffing ourselves into oblivion, we've been exploring the rest of the city. We're right in Old Town - which is like being in a time warp. The place is so...Mexican - well d'uh - and gorgeous. There's all these yellow stone buildings joined by narrow pathways draped with bundles of dried chilies and stuffed with teeny shops selling Native American jewellery. Unfortunately the overpriced shoebox has prevented me from actually purchasing any of the 5,215 things I have fallen in love with - but window shopping is still fun.

Tomorrow we leave. Again. I don't think I'll ever get used to this constantly-on-the-move malarkey. It's great when you want to rush away from horrible places (Goodbye Kilgore Texas!), but sad when you have to up-and-leave somewhere as beautiful as this.

As I said...Kevin Spacey. He should have come to New Mexico.

xxx

Route 66 Baby

OK....I need your help people. I want you to raise your arms in a triumphant manner, shake out your hair, and prepare your vocal chords for an epic Bon jovi singalong.

Are you ready?

1....2....3....

"WOOAAHHH WE'RE HALFWAY THERE
WOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOAHHHHH LIVIN' ON A PRAYER
TAKE MY HAND WE WILL MAKE IT I SWEAR
WOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOAHHHHHHH LIVIN' ON A PRAYER"

Phew I don't know about you but I'm knackered after all.

Anyway if you haven't guessed. We've reached past our halfway point. I am writing this from a cheap but cheerful motel in Amarillo, and am therefore as far away from an ocean as I can possibly be. I'm still in disbelief that we are alive - especially with some of the 'special' driving we have experienced from ol' Americans - but we are. If our luck holds out for the other half then you can all look forward to seeing my charming face on the bonny fair isle of England in a month's time.

Yesterday we explored a little of Oklahoma City - which really only involved visiting their amazing cowboy museum. Again, Rich and I regressed to our childhood selves, and while most of the visitors were saying sensible things to each other like 'Jean, come over here and check out this old piece of leather. It's a whole 200 years old' - we were dressing up in the costumes they provided for children and staging our own shootout in the old-western-style town.

Today we ate up more miles getting to Amarillo. If we had kept to our original route we would be driving through the desert and just about to hit Arizona now - but instead we decided to make a massive detour...
That's right. We're on Route 66 baby. Well, what's left of it after it was maimed and destroyed for no reason and all of it's signposts were stolen by relic-hunting twats. But I'm so glad we switched routes because the driving up here is so much fun. Stopping at a 'Rest Area' (toilet) you see so many license plates from all over the country and get a kindred kick out the fact everyone is doing the same thing you are. There's also loads along the route to do and see as small towns frantically try to get you to divert so their economy can continue now the I40 interstate has paved itself past them instead of through them. Today we drove past at least five 'Route 66' museums as well as 'The Biggest Christian Cross In the World' which was an interesting sight. The billboard advertised it as the 'biggest spiritual experience you will ever have'. Would love to see them try and keep that promise if Jesus returned. And tomorrow we're looking forward to driving past the Cadillac Ranch. A place next to the interstate where some rich mentalist decided to bury loads of the cars face down in the mud in tribute to Route 66. You're allowed to park up and spraypaint your own graffiti on them which should be pretty cool.

Amarillo itself doesn't have a much amount to offer apart from being a useful stopover town for Route 66 chasers. The only real tourist-magnet is the 'Big Texan Steak Ranch' which is a beefeater and dirty motel with a giant cowboy that waves at you on top of it. It's most famous for challenging its customers to eat a 72ounce steak with side dishes. If you eat all of it in less than an hour - the whole meal is free. My carnivore friends will probably be seething in anger when I admit that I have not visited. Instead, we managed to find an organic health food cafe where I ate a vegan humus sandwich with beansprouts. I know, I know, it's a wasted opportunity but if I'm going to start eating meat I think a 72oz steak-eating-challenge is slightly throwing myself in at the deep end.

We've got another five hour slog on the interstate tomorrow and then we're finally where we want to be. New Mexico. We've sacrificed taking smaller roads and soaking up more atmosphere so we have more time to spend here. And I'm scarily excited by the next week's itinerary. We're hitting the beautiful mountain city of Albuquerque, then sailing up the Turquoise Trail (scenic road) to Santa Fe, before visiting the ski-resort of Taos which is supposed to still be insanely gorgeous in summertime. So expect loads of gushing and boring descriptions of mountains and trees...and then promise to slap me when I get home.

Right I'm off to laugh at mental American commercials.

Lots of love

Holly

On The Road.

On the road.

On. The Road.

It sounds so glamorous doesn’t it? It conjures images of the sun glinting off the highway, the wind sweeping your hair, and retro rock n roll tunes blaring out of your Cadillac.

Well in reality the images are more of: frantically dodging mentalist drivers in SUVs, unsavoury bathroom arrangements, massive fights over what’s being played on the iPod (my Glee soundtrack is banned and I’m not happy about it. Rich’s emo sh*t is also banned and he’s equally unglad), and worrying if the car rental company will notice we’ve broken at least two parts of our Toyota Yarris.

Bloody reality. It always has to ruin everything.

Seriously it’s not been that bad. Well apart from the Glee clampdown from Mr Musical Nazi. The only two bands we agree on are The Smiths and The Beatles, and there’s only so much Eleanor Rigby one person can stand.

Yesterday was all about gobbling up miles. And gobble we did. I was a machine – but it was horrible. I think, in English terms, I drove past Newcastle from Brighton. It’s not so much the driving part that’s hard – more keeping your concentration from dwindling when you don’t even need to steer. The interstates are so very boring and can be quite disorientating because you’re covering such long distances with just the same signs for Wendy’s and Macdonalds every 35 miles. There’s a slight change in landscape. As we tear up tarmac we’ve passed the sunkissed palm trees of Florida, the draped Spanish Moss of Tallahasse, the boggy marshland of Louisiana, and now we’re into the wide open plains of the Four Corners.

Anyway – to cut a long story short. This was my yesterday….
Drive. Drive. Fill up gas. Drive. Drive. Pee. Drive. Eat at Pizza Hut on side of the road and get looked at strangely when I ask for salad. Drive. Drive. Fill up gas. Drive. Drive. Yell at Rich for no apparent reason. Cry a little. Drive. Drive. Find motel and COLLAPSE.

The motel we stayed at last night was another dive. I’m not sure why we’re so good at finding such disgusting places. It’s some sort of depraved and thoroughly un-useful gift. There’s this smell that comes free with any motel room that’s under $70 a night. And it hits you the moment you open the door. A mixture of mould, mildew, dead bodies etc. Ergh! We need to buy some Febreeze if we’re to continue unearthing such hellish dwellings. We stayed in a place called ‘Kilgore’ in Texas which would be very aptly named during the presidential election of 2000. (I had to Google the year so the cleverness of that joke is slightly diminished. Plus, Rich might have made it first). I tried to swim in the pool but it was a dark green sludgy colour with tree branches in it and one lone deflated dolphin with a scratched eye bobbing melancholy on the marshy surface. Not good.

So after a not-very-successful day we decided to DEFY Google Maps and deviate from the interstate. I know. I’m a rebel without a cause. But I’m so so glad we did because the drive today was wonderful. We drove through so many cute hick towns and spotted our very first cowboy. It was like we were finally seeing the real American after 24 hours just blitzing through it. We then took a turnpike through Native American land which was stunningly beautiful. At one point the road looked as though we were driving into the sky and I came over all Pocahontus. Although Rich stubbornly refused to sing ‘Paint With All The Colours Of The Wind’ with me as we glided through the forest. Spoilsport.

Anyhoo we’re now in Oklahoma City baby. Not because we really wanted to see it, but more because it’s a natural stopping point. We’ve defied our no-chains-if-possible rule and splashed out by staying in a Comfort Inn off the Interstate. It may have no soul but it’s got a whirlpool bath in each room, and well as a gym and a spa and a Subway opposite. It’s remarkably easy to sell your soul to the devil here – though we have challenged ourselves to go the whole trip without eating a MacDonalds.

We staying here two nights so I can rest from the drive. There’s not a huge lot to do but we’ve discovered the national Cowboy (!!!!!!) museum is only a ten minute drive away so that’s tomorrow sorted. Then we’re LITERALLY taking the road to Amarillo. Which is another great singing opportunity for me, and another great reason for Rich to contemplate dumping me. But I’m the only who can drive so he’s stuck with me and my screeching and overenthusiastic vocal chords for at least a month. Mwhahahahaha.

I’m going to shut up now.

Love to you all you beautiful English people.

Holly xxx

Friday...I'm in love.

My oh my it's going to be hard to leave New Orleans. The place is intoxicating and addictive - though its easy to stumble across the 'bad' parts or blatant tourist traps.

Rich and I had another amazing WW2 experience today. We're not intentionally seeking out war history but it just seems to find us. This place blew my mind (to use an Americanism). It was a 4D cinematic experience called 'Beyond the Boundaries'. It cost millions to make and was hosted/narrated by Tom Hanks. I'm not sure I have the words to adequately describe it - but it was like nothing I have ever experienced before. The film is about 50 minutes long, during which your chair rumbles as you're shot at by a tank, your eyes fill with steam as you witness the heat of intense German bombing, you fear for your life as a Nazi searchlight hones in on you in a concentration camp, quake with fear as you're obliterated by an atom bomb, and bawl your eyes out at all the spoken memoirs of soldiers. Seriously, forget the jazz and the drinking for a moment, and come to New Orleans just to see this movie. Mind boggling.

Anyway - with our WW2-buff-appetite well and truly satisfied - we spent the rest of the day and evening exploring the city more. It's such an odd place. You stumble from one brilliant moment to the next without noticing the transition journey. We spent some time in a glass factory where they let you blow your own glass, ate burritos the size of our heads, and discovered the most amazing array of live music, free of charge on random street corners. I have attached a video of the best band we found.

By far the most exciting part of the day was when we randomly walked past a miniature pot-bellied pig. I squealed (like a pig appropriately) with excitement and the owner let me feed him popcorn as we discussed the NHS and American Health Bill. Feeding a pig and politics at the same time - only in New Orleans.

There are downsides though. Today we had coffee and beignets (not bayonets as I insisted on calling them) at the famous Cafe du Monde - which its sort of the law to do. We had been warned by our beloved Lonely Planet that the place is highly overrated but went anyway. It was highly overrated. Just chockablock full of other hopeless tourists being served by moody waitresses as part of a conveyor belt operation. The famous Bourbon Street is also a letdown - especially on a Friday night. There's a distinct smell of disinfectant to mask the vomit in the road, the lone song of a saxophone crooning is drowned out by drunken jocks on stag weekends screeching 'Come on Eileen', and street hustlers stand in darkened corners like vultures waiting to pray on intoxicated tourists.

That aside - I still blooming love the place and will be very sad to leave tomorrow.

Tomorrow.....

This is where the bad part happens.

To put it shortly, Rich and I still aren't entirely sure on our route or where to head to next. All we know is that we want to get through Texas fast and there's nowhere nice to stop on the way. Believe me - we've really tried to find somewhere. So tomorrow marks the real 'road trip' aspect of the trip. Which basically means I have to drive until I'm flat-out dead before collapsing in a dingy chain motel by the side of the interstate. We're hoping to get to Oklahoma in two days but that depends entirely on my motoring stamina. Damn the car rental company for charging an insane price for a second driver.

I know I know...it's all about the journey not the destination right? But I think this part of the trip is going to be pretty boring. So if I don't post for a while it's probably because I have nothing to say - or we've been murdered by a chainsaw killer on the side of the road...

Love to y'all and wish me luck as I embark on my way through the Bible belt.

Holly xxxx

There is a house in New Orleans...

....I know. Original blog title right? It took me about 0.5 seconds to think of it.

Well Hi y'all (assume deep southern drawl). I hope you are reading this whilst lying horizontally across something comfortable like because I'm writing this from The Big Easy. I must forewarn you, my creative genius may be somewhat lubricated by the ridiculously strong Hurricane cocktail I sipped whilst listening to licve jazz music earlier. Yes, I know, it's a hard life. Very hard indeed. So if there are many more spelling/punctuation mistakes than normal than I apologise and blame it entirely on New Orleans.

Despite us travelling to the city of laid-back - today was actually pretty stressful. I had to drive through three different electrical storms to get us here and the novelty of seeing forked lightning spasm across the sky every five seconds quickly wore off and was replaced by slow realisation of our own morality. Also, as New Orleans is pretty much a walking-only town, our first couple of hours here were cooped up in our hotel room watching mother-nature beat the crap out of the place while we cowered behind the safety of our double-glazing.

When it's not raining - we've been exploring the French Quarter and pretty much falling in love with the place. We quickly bypassed Bourbon Street after we realised it was full of neon and disgusting drunk people and emerged ourselves in the beauty of the wrought iron balconies, narrow winding roads, and talented musicians playing the saxophone soulfully on abandoned street corners. I was expecting people to be laid back here, but was still surprised by just how chilled out human beings are capable are being. We travelled into the Quarter using the street trolley, and despite it being peak rush hour and solid traffic, everyone was winding down their windows and laughing to each other. As someone who has the tendency to break into tears and start screaming expletives at just the whiff of a jam on the M25, I feel I need to learn something from these people.

Another slight down side to the trip is that Rich and I are finding it difficult to cater to our morally-righteous vegetarian tastes in an area known for its duck-fried-chicken, shrimp by the bucketful and 72-ounce steak. We have both achieved the impossible and unwilling lost alot of weight since we've got to America. It's not through choice - rather a lack of vegetarian choice. They just don't do vegetarian in the southern states. We stopped on the interstate at lunchtime, excited because we had found a place called 'Applebees'. We thought, surely, a food establishment with 'Apple' in the title would cater for our moralistic whims? But we were wrong. There was actually not one thing on the menu that didn't include the dead carcass of an animal. We ended up having to eat only an appetiser of pre-made Tomato soup while our bellies rumbled aggressively at the waitress. It's actually got to the point that we're eating protein bars made for men who want to gain muscle to see us through the day...

...Anyway, there is a point to this whinging. In gastronomic despair, Rich googled Veggie restaurants in New Orleans and we found only one that served an entirely veggie menu just across the divide the Lonely Planet has given us so we can avoid dodgy areas. It was called the 'Dragons Den'but instead of being greeted by four entrepreneurs with wads of cash, we walked in to find a group of the biggest-hippy-wannabe-cliches I had ever come across. And I grew up in Surrey for God's sake. Home of the 'I-must-reject-my-middle-class-upbringing'.

The place was an absolute dive. There was a sign up telling us it will close forever next week, and it wasn't supringing considering just sitting on the sticky seats has probably given me an STI. And there was a dreadlocked stinky girl lying facedown on the floor in the middle of the supposed restaurant when we entered. Silly tart. However, as is usually the case with disgusting dives, the food was absolutely amazing and we gorged ourselves on veggie-takes on Southern classics whilst listening to a group of irritating and smelling 20-somethings compete to see who had slept the least over the past couple of days and who's tattoo has the most unique and meaningful meaning. Me? Judgemental? Of course not. F*cking twats.

We've spent the rest of the evening milling around and soaking it all up. People carry beers around with them and the most amazing jazz is played to nobody on street corners. But it's not all alcoholic beverage and soul music - the lasting imprint of Hurricane Katrina is everywhere. Just driving in you saw trees splintered and stripped of their outside bark, dilapidated billboards lying by the side of the roads, and houses - that used to be people's homes- remain dilapidated and derelict , abandoned on the side of the road. We're slap bang in the middle of Hurricane season so Rich and I have been watching the over dramatised Weather channel to ensure the heavy storms we're weathering won't grow into anything bigger. It's just such a shame that something as typical as the weather can ravage such a unique and beautiful place. Though something tells me people in New Orleans aren't that bothered by it. They're not that bothered by anything. And if you could bottle the positive vibe of this place and sell it to people who would make Bill Gates look like a pauper.

Anyway, slightly drunken entry over with. I must sleep so I can enjoy the delights of tomorrow. We've discovered there's a WW2 museum here that gives you a 4D experience of soldier life in the 1940s. I am already vibrating with excitement at the idea.

Lots of love and hugs and kisses.

Hope you're enjoying the fine English weather. Can't believe it's better there than it is here you bastards.

Holly xxxxx

I need guns....lots of guns.

Oh my god. I'm literally in Forest Gump land. It's fantabulous.

This morning we left Florida. For good. Which was slightly terrifying, and made even more so when I had to navigate our way through the scariest electric storm ever.

But just after noon we crossed over the state line to Alabama and shimmied down to the darling seaside town of Mobile. And yes, I admit it, Rich and I sung the line 'Stuck inside of Mobile with these Memphis Blues Again' about ten billion million times.

The town is very historic and started Mardi Gras years before New Orleans (I read this in Lonely Planet). We're staying in an ancient hotel seeped in history which has been going since the Civil War. That's nothing in terms of English history, but here it's a pretty big deal. There's gas lanterns instead of streetlights and the place is a town warp.

It's very pretty, cultural, exciting yadda yadda yadda. But the real reason we came here was to see the US Alabama WW2 ship - which we pilgrimaged to this afternoon.

The battleship was the biggest bloody thing I have ever seen with my eyeballs. Ever. Rich and I were in awed silence driving up to it. I'll try and remember some facts for you....It was home to hundreds upon hundreds of American sailors during the war, defending British waters from the Germans with their large exciting guns. It's also very famous because it survived 11(?) giant strikes but never sunk.

Americans give you much greater access to historic tourist destinations than English people. While we keep Stone Henge cooped up in fencing and create laser beams preventing visitors from getting too close to museum exhibits, Americans just let you climb all over stuff. Rich and I were clambering around the ship like giant children high on Sunny Delight. It was an odd experience because we would be making large gun noises, or screeching 'COVERING FIRE' at each other and basically having the time of our lives.... But then we would stop and read a placard dedicated to men who had died on the ship during attacks and you would get that hollow feeling in your stomach when you realise just what Average-Joes like them sacrificed for the greater good. But, deep thoughts about morality and the nature of war aside, the place rocked. We also got to explore a WW2 submarine as well as various aircraft and the whole experience was well worth the detour.

We spent the evening walking around the historic district where we were randomly invited to a bar by a total stranger. In the spirit of Southern-friendliness we accepted the girl's request and had a brilliant time sipping Bud Light with her and learning about her life. She was a fab hippy-type girl called Mkenzie who works in an independent book shop. Within half an hour we: knew she was majoring in English, learnt she had Baptist parents who were racist at least 110 percent of the time, had been given a list of eight bands we needed to listen to, and were introduced to all of her other friends who were equally charming.

I'm still reeling in shock at the friendliness of people here. They all do just go up and talk to each other in the street and invite you into their lives without hesitation or ulterior motive. I dunno, maybe it gets boring after a while. But, for now, it's a nice change from the eyes-down-on-the-tube, don't-talk-to-strangers, no-I-don't-know-what-the-time-is English persona.

As I said before - it will wear off when we get to Texas.

Off to New Orleans tomorrow where we plan to get fat and drunk simultaneously.

COVERING FIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Holly

xxx

Swimming with gators

Yesterday I went swimming in alligator-infested water.

You know - as you do.

We're coming to the end of our four-night stay in Tallahasse, and to tell the truth, I really don't want to leave. It's by far the best place we've seen in Florida. I don't understand why it's the capital of the state when it's so different to the rest of the place. Palm trees and cheesy ice-cream coloured stucco buildings are replaced with tall old trees dripping with beautiful Spanish moss and wooden houses.

The place we're staying is just incredible. We've been put up by some of my Dad's oldest friends and when we first walked into their home my eyes almost popped out of my head. They built it themselves - which it turns out is pretty common around here. All the men are 'men of the land' and can make things out of wood without using power tools. Rich, of course, is boasting that he would be able to too if only 'someone taught him'. The house overlooks the most gorgeous forest which is lit up at nighttime by real-life fireflies. And there's no curtains so you wake up in natural sunlight with squirrels and lizards running past the glass. The place is part of what I think I can call a commune. There's a school here where children are encouraged to learn only when they feel like it and are allowed to play if they're not in the mood. I admit, I was a little sceptical at first, but the son of the family we're staying with went there and he keeps upstaging Rich and I's holiday books with his 16th century novels which he reads for fun. So obviously this school is doing something right.

I admit we've not done a huge amount of sightseeing here. I've just come over really American Beauty and spent a lot of time just staring at the forest and sighing with hippy-tree-hugger-esque pleasure. There's a shared communal pool (which has no chemicals in it of course and the water is so clean you share it with frogs) and Rich and I have enjoyed meeting everyone else who lives here and finding out more about their lives.

But yesterday we did the big thing you're supposed to do here. Which is to go to Wakulla Springs. It's the largest natural spring in the world and full of home-grown Florida alligators. We were taken there, in true Southern hospitality, by a lady we had never met before. She told us she had travelled to Morocco with my dad and some other guy in a bus but they weren't allowed into the city because their hair was too long. She was the most delightful person, refusing to let us pay for anything and making us lunch. That's the thing about Americans. I think in England we have this idea of them all being fat, George-Bush-lovers ,who tell you you're going to hell while snacking on a oversized piece of beef. But so far - and I'm aware we've not hit the Bible belt yet - they're open, friendly, genuinely interested in what you have to say, and make you feel like you're best friends instantly. I'm all for English sarcasm and taking the piss out of each other - but I am leaning slightly towards this new 'let's be nice to each other' way of life.

Don't worry. I'm sure it will wear off as soon as we hit Texas.

Anyway - back to the springs. Seriously, one of the most beautiful places I have ever been in my whole life. And yes, I'm aware I've used the word 'beautiful' about eight times already in this blog. We took a boat tour down the river where we saw alligators EVERYWHERE as well as a mummy and a baby manatee. You might recognise the place if you've seen any of the old Tarzan movies or Creature of the Black Lagoon as they were all shot there. What I found slightly strange though is that you were allowed to swim in this alligator infested water. Sure, they had lifeguards and a cordoned off swimming area....but the lifeguard couldn't have been older than twelve and the cordoned off area was only a few buoys floating on top of the water. Ummm HELLO - alligators can swim under it. It took a lot of convincing to get me in there - and when I finally did I spent most of the time screaming 'What the hell was that?' every time a piece of underwater foliage brushed against me. But I did it. And later I was told someone was recently eaten there. That's right. Actually eaten. Alive. Glad I was told that after I had worked up the courage to get in - not sure I would have done so otherwise.

So that's Tallahasse. Tomorrow we move on and have officially run out of nice Americans we know to look after us. For the next three weeks, well basically until we reach the other side of the country, Rich and I are all alone. We're still not entirely sure of our route, and I'm still sceptical we'll make it to the other side alive, but the road trip starts here. Over 4,000 miles to go. Just us, the road, a rental car that we've already scratched, and an iPod to argue about.

Wish us luck because we're on our own.

Loads of love

Holly