New Orleans II, Memphis II, Austin I

So the excellent new hostel I found in New Orleans came with, amongst other things, a swimming pool and a gang. The gang (JK, Julian, Lucy, Anastacia and Troels, from Bermuda, New Zealand, Manchester, Pennsylvania and Denmark respectively) explored the french quarter, pretty, and then regrouped in the cool of the evening and led the assault on the jazz-bars of Bourbon and Frenchman Streets. We saw some music, and drank some beers, and lost some people (like became seperated, they didn't die, although one person foolishly walked home and was mugged TWICE on the way, impressively, only losing $4 in the process) and a CLICHE good time was had by all CLICHE.

The next day I rushed around independently and really enjoyed the oddness of New Orleans, the derelicts with rusted fire escapes just hanging on pressed up between shining glass buildings, the ancient french and spanish lamp posts mixing with neon signs, the dingy bar with a John Cleese quote on the window and friendly people that boasted about their bands. I said goodbye to all I met and left on the AMTRAK.

Which is a hundred times nicer than greyhound - more legroom than first-class english trains, faster, more punctual and cheaper than bus, etc. So that was pretty nice, and also came with a hilarious new scheme by which a commentary was given out over the loudspeakers in the 'lounge car' concerning the scenery we were passing. The enthusiastically false-sounding woman said things like "and to our left, is marsh land. Look carefully, and you may see alligator tracks, or ever a tortoise sitting on an old log... or maybe, it's not a log, but actually... an alligator!"

In this manner I achieved Memphis, at 10.30 in the evening. The hostel I was due at usually closed for the night at 8pm, but luckily I had the foresight to phone ahead to make sure I could get in. Unluckily, that had absolutely no effect - the door was locked and the phone was on answering machine. So after calling other hotels listed in my guidebook and finding them booked-up, and in a gathering rage in the gutter outside the hostel, I came to the conclusion I'd have to spend the night at the greyhound station, which, not only would be crap, would also cost, for cab-fare there and back, more than actually staying in a hostel. Hmph.

But Hooray! I called a taxi and after half-an-hour of waiting gave up hope and asked the first set of passers-by where I could get a cab from. By some typical miracle they were good friends with someone that worked at the hostel I was supposed to be staying at, who they phoned and got the door-code from. SO not only did I get into the hostel, I made a set of lovely shiny local friends: Bet, Maggie and Sharon.

The next day was filled up with my usual first-day-in-a-new-city activity, which consists of walking into town (which is always 'too far to walk' in american eyes, but actually roughly an educational hours walk) and then finding coffee shops, bookshops and parks, and relaxing appropriately. Memphis proved and admirable place to partake of these activities and a brilliant blues band (see Memphis I) kept me entertained for what actually became two and a half hours. Then a walk back via Shnucks (really called Shnucks) supermarket for the Hummus, French Loaf and bag of carrots that would feed me for the next day and half.

Back at the hostel (Pilgrim house, linked to a church dedicated to Gay+Lesbian inclusion in the Christian Faith) I met two swedish guitar players and a san-franciscoan mandolin player and their useful car, which transported back to Beale Street for the actually craaaazy street party - you need to be 21 to even get onto this street, but after presenting my ID the security guard: "does this make you 21?" - Me: "yes, oh yes" - Guard: "Uhh, I can't do that date shit" - Me: "polite chuckle, as if to excuse his ignorance".

We took a few beers, and saw an awesome one-man-band, who was, despite his brilliant, upstaged by Ed Watts, the human slug and most vile depiction of human-condition failure imaginable. His sleazy after-effect was cured by an Outkast cover band further up the road.

So next day me and mandolin+car guy (sorry Ben, that defines you perfectly) got up early and put on our shirts to go to CHURCH. The CHURCH of Al Green, furthermore, but sadly Al Green was stuck in London, despite God's best efforts, but that was okay because his dad was there (really! Ninetyfive and still preaching) and also a fantastic band and gospel-choir and dancing congregation. We then drove back (past Graceland, but sadly the house was obscured by a set of Aeroplanes out front..) and checked out the factory where Gibson guitars were made, all very touristy but we are none of us perfect so I sneaked an enjoyable afternoon out of it all. Then an evening with Bet+Maggie and free flat beer and a set of the best conversation I've had since I got to the states and Memphis was made complete.

I set off yesterday for Texas, booking the bus that arrived at 6am, because the busses are Always late. I met some staggeringly american people ("so what language d'y'all speak over there in england? French, or... is it english?" THIS TRULY HAPPENED WOOOARRRRR I BROKE MY SOUL CONTAINING MY LAUGHTER but managed and the poor fat man waddled away without any serious offensive mocking).

Anyway, in true greyhound style, a set of circumstances conspired to bring me AN HOUR EARLY into Austin, Texas, so I sat from 5am to 7 in the station, and watched american news, fairly educationally. Then I found the hostel successfully and against great odds, and from thence I wrote this enormous blog-entry and am staring morosely at the great rainstorm consuming the area and filling the lake out the back of the hostel, which is nice.

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