Pennsylvania: Part Deux

October 9-10

This was to be a weekend that embraced US culture wholeheartedly.

We’d the largest SUV that the car hire folk could offer.  We had eschewed maps for GPS.  We’d printed t-shirts and baked brownies.  And Gregoire had even promised us some mixtapes.  We were ready for our first roadtrip of the season.

Stop number one:  Rafting at the Delaware Water Gap

At over 20 degress, the weather was unseasonally hot – perfect for navigating the Delaware ‘rapids’.   Gregoire deserves a special mention for ‘doeeng double ze paddleeng of everyone else’.  Kudos to Declan and Guillaume for managing to smoke and paddle at the same time.  Who said that men can’t multitask?

Stop number two:  Lancaster

Lancaster must surely be one of the worst towns I’ve had the pleasure of visiting.  Great banter to be sure, but a truly awful place.  We stayed in a comedy hotel which would have made Fawlty Towers look like a veritable 5 star, we’d a poor meal in a local ‘gastro’ pub, and a number of local watering holes refused to let us in without seeing our visas.  Thankfully, after about an hour of wandering, we found a dodgy looking joint that wasn’t so suspicious of foreigners.

Stope number three:  Amish Country

With Declan and Gregoire still sleeping off their previous night’s fun, we ventured out to Dutch Country.  Schoolboy error: it was Sunday – not much was open.  But we took a tour on a horse and cart and heard a bit more about Amish life.  Indeed, our guide’s own story was fascinating.  Brought up in the Amish community, he had left school – as was compulsory – to do farm work at the age of 12.  However, at the age of 16 he had enjoyed the rumspringa period in which Amish rules may be broken: he’d gotten a piercing, enjoyed technology and lived a party lifestyle.  He now admits that he took things too far at times, but he still decided not to join the Amish again as an adult.  Instead, he obtained his High School Diploma and is now training to become a vet.  He will be the first person in his family to graduate from University in over 300 years.  However, his family would rather that he gave it up and return to run the farm.

The Amish don’t drive cars.  For them, family is key.  And motorised transport has the potential to take you far away from it.  Our driver explained that the concern is more than geographic: ‘the worry is that you’ll travel so far away from home that you can’t find your way back, and that you end up losing a bit of yourself along the way’ ….’And there’s certainly some truth in that’ he mused.  Perhaps.  But there is also truth in the idea – so beautifully expressed by du Bellay – that through leaving home we can fully appreciate where we are from and thus who we really are.

In any event, we’d great fun over family-style food before hitting the road for our next stop.

'Family style' dinner included colouring in sheets for the kids..

Stop number four: Gettysburg

Any good legal education should appreciate historical context.  So this merry band of lawyers (and one actuary) decided to visit Gettysburg.

As our SUV entered the town, we passed civil-war reenacters dressed up to the nines, and Guillaume, a military geek, played Lincoln’s speech to set the scene.

As we drove around the park, Nico was in the driving seat.  Needless to say, hilarity ensued.  However, the funny side may have been lost by those in the 20 car tailback he caused.

My overriding memory is the extreme peace that has settled over the landscape.  The civil war was severe – over 200,000 killed in combat – and it’s now hard to imagine such fighting occurring in that place.  Here’s to Somalia having the same ambiance someday soon.

Stop number five:  Harrisburg

Harrisburg = ghost town.  Pennsylvania’s capitial was unimpressive.  We’d a bad meal in a poor restaurant (déjà vu anyone?) and then we headed for home.

A fantastic weekend.  It all went to prove that one should ‘never say no to a roadtrip’.

‘Family style’ dinner included colouring in sheets for the kids..

New York. Again.

I’ve been up and down to NYC a few times, but I thought I’d quickly highlight this particular (mis)adventure.

The wonderful, legendary, ever-running Gus was in town.  He was stopping off on his way back to the UK from LA.

Dan, ever the polymath, was directing a play off-Broadway.

And I’d been given a 24-hour exam.  The basic idea of which is that you have a one day window to upload an answer to an essay question.  This was my first one.  “How hard could it be?” I mocked.  Such naïveté.

Given that I’d a full twenty four hours to complete this thing, my first mistake, undoubtedly, was to start work on it with only seven to spare.

My second was to think that I could finish it off on the two-hour coach ride to NYC.  Or in Starbucks at 7th Ave and 28^th St.  Or in the Lobby Bar of  the 59E59 Theatre.

Well, all that wouldn’t actually have mattered if the bloody theatre had had wifi.  It didn’t.  So, as the bell was ringing to call us to our seats, off I sprinted through the honking mid-town traffic to find a signal on which to latch.  Thank you Borders®© on Park Avenue.  My exam essay was uploaded on time.  I was on top of my game.

Or not.

The theatre door had closed and they weren’t letting me in.

Thanks to Alice the barmaid, I was able to regain a sense of perspective over a G&T on-the-house.  She’s a darling, and they’re got live jazz on a Thursday – you should visit.

With my track record, no one was much surprised that I’d missed the performance.  But I had my ticket; I’d come back another night during the run.

After demolishing a bizarre fruit bouquet (epic fail on the part of the actress who left it behind) we headed out for japes at Carnegies – an infamous local deli.  I was dared to drink a new york cream soda by the waiter.  I did it.

Gus ate half a cow.

We discussed the difference between gherkins, cucumbers and pickles.  The kitchen leaked bleach.  They had a huge gherkin and lots of photos of famous people. 

Someday Dan, Gus and Elizabeth will be up there too.

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Florida

State number 6: October 1-4

On October the first it was raining in Philadelphia.  But that didn’t matter.  For after my 9 o’clock Federal Courts class, I was heading to the airport.  My plane was full of Hawaiian prints, shell suits and purple rinses.  My folks had been taking some sun in Florida and I was to join them.

My plane stopped off in Charlotte, North Carolina.  My enthusiasm for good airports is well-known.  This one had a wine bar to showcase local produce, rocking chairs scattered around the halls, and a bakery that kept us all high on cinnamon smells.

As for my time in St. Ewalds Circle, Sarasota, well, there’s not much to report.  It’s a great place to be sure, we just didn’t do that much.  The hotel had a stunning view and a great breakfast.  We beached and we swam.  I read Geuss, Von Bogandy and some chick-lit.  Shoals of fish came right up to the shore, we watched the dolphins playing in the water, and I got dive-bombed by pelicans as I floated on my back.  The only other thing to shatter my peace was the loud conversation of two neighbouring sunbathers.  (Their views on the Healthcare Bill, Obama’s golfing habits and ‘Dancing with the stars’ were most enlightening.)  Anyway, the problem was soon resolved by my moving quickly, and obviously, to relocate a few metres down the beach.

On Sunday we attended a local Church.  The announcement sheet provided excellent pre-match entertainment.  I was particularly struck by the ‘Coffee and Corinthians’ discussion that takes place every Tuesday.  Count me in next term if it’s ‘Merlot and Matthew’.  Or, perhaps ‘Rum and Revelation’?  (To be honest, such an approach might even aid comprehension of that particular book…)

People take such care to craft their coffees to their own tastes and mood, but are willing to sip them in dull, boring buildings.  Sigh.  Such is the state of the world we live in.  Thankfully this church building wasn’t your standard stone effort.  It was pretty cool – a proper treehouse up amongst the pines.

Amongst other great meals, I should note the hilarious night we had at an Irish Pub.  Daddy’s salad came with shamrock-shaped feta.  Fusion cuisine?  Perhaps not.

I was sad to say goodbye to Mummy and Daddy at the airport – we’d had a good time for the two weeks they’d been around.  But I took the train back to Philly where I met my friends to start planning our next adventure.

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