A view to kill...

I set off from the ranch with Flagstaff as the destination, but only once I'd been through Jerome and Sedona. Both had been recommended to me to see. Jerome is an old mining town, up in the hills, and Sedona is a town set alongside beautiful red rocks. The drive to Jerome was spectacular. Like every Bond film you've ever seen, winding in and out of one beautiful view, and then another. I climbed into the hills until there was snow, and then back out the other side. I stopped to take in the view, and had a brief chat with a biker who had stopped for a cigarette. He pointed out that in the distance, the snowy mountains visible was in fact Flagstaff, my final destination. I asked if he wouldn't mind me taking a photo of his bike, and he insisted I sit on the bike and he take the photo. I duly accepted. He took the photo. Biker for a day (or 20 seconds).

Jerome itself is a really cute little town, set along the windy roads, houses set into the hills, with a population of just 350. I stopped for lunch in a little cafe, went for a little stroll around, and took in the unbelievable panoramic view of Arizona around it. I coasted my way down the hill and filled up with petrol ready for the onward journey to Sedona.

Arriving in Sedona I followed the signs to the Red Rock Country Park. Once there I took a two hour hike around the wonderful scenery, colours ranging from the green plants and cacti to the stained red of the rocks. You might think you can get bored of nature at its best, but you can't. I climbed my way up to the Eagle's Nest trail and took in the views around me.

From there I drove through the touristy but colourful Sedona and my onward journey to Flagstaff. I finally got into town and followed my GPS to where I would be staying the night. I couldn't see the house numbers but thought I had found the right place, knocked on the door, but it wasn't them. "Are you doing that couchy sleep thingy'. Indeed I was. "You want the house just over there, next to the school". I guess that wasn't the first time the GPS had sent some couchsurfers to the wrong house.

I knocked on the door and Scott let me in. He works as a nurse in the local hospital, doing 7pm to 7am shifts, and he was due in work soon. He had just cooked himself dinner and kindly said I could have some too. He lives with his son (who was out with friends) and one other housemate, Felicia. Scott left for work and I chatted to Felicia. An hour or so later Scott called me up to say his girlfriend, who works at the Grand Canyon, would be off work at 1pm the following day, would I like to join him and drive to the Canyon. I eagerly accepted. What an opportunity to not only see the Grand Canyon, but with people who know it so well. I went to bed looking forward to what the next day would bring. No doubt, a view to die for...

The miracle of Christmas Day...

Friday December 24th

I woke up late, and had to set off pretty sharp as I needed to arrive in Chino Valley for 3pm to be a part of their early Christmas Service (they knew I was Jewish, and I had no problem attending any kind of service they were going to). James had left for work already, so I left his key behind and sent him a text message thanking him for his wonderful hospitality. I hit the road, with time for a petrol and food stop, grabbing an egg bagel for lunch. The I17 took me north until I changed onto the 69 and then 89, where the scenery got interesting. For miles around there was flat desert land, but in the distance there were glorious mountains, and as I got closer, there was even a fantastic snow peaked mountain in the distance. That warm feeling was still there. My GPS was trying to send me a different route to the one Joy had told me, so I stuck with the human advice, and followed her route. As I got closer and closer the roads narrowed, until eventually I was driving up and down over small hills, and finally the road came to an end and I hit the dirt track. I must be close. I went over the cattle guards, and through a gate, and further along the dirt track, and then I hit Skyhawk. I rolled my window down and asked a group of people where exactly the Somers Ranch was, and they told me right at the bottom of the road, on the right. Down I went, and there it was, I continued up the dirt track to the house, past the cattle and horses, as two dogs came running towards the car barking. As I pulled up Joy called me to ask where I was. "Right outside". "Well come on inside" she said.

Inside I met Joy and her two sisters, Grace and Sadie, her friend Daniel (a fire-fighter from Phoenix) along with her Uncle Marlin. Marlin immediately referred to my 'Beatles Hat', and coined me 'The Brit'. I knew this was going to be a fun few days. Half an hour later her parents returned, and I met Marie and Robert, who were wonderfully welcoming. They were heading to Church Service at 4pm, but Joy managed to talk us out of it, so instead I helped her with the chores. Within an hour of being there I was helping to clean up the horse poo, and was strangely loving it. There I was, Dave, from London, on a ranch, in Arizona, being a cowboy! Minus the hat. And boots. And accent. But you get the idea.

That evening we went to a quite amazing Christmas service. It wasn't your typical religious service. We entered a large room with a stage in the middle, surrounded on all sides by seats. There were three musicians singing Christmas songs. Following the songs there was a brief sermon basically going over the history of Christmas and asking everyone to be thankful for the sacrifice if Jesus. Whilst it meant little to me from a Jewish point of view, it was very similar to sermons I've heard in Synagogue. Once that was finished we went outside where there was an array of events. There was a chocolate room (where you could just eat chocolate), there was an outside garden with music playing and various passages from the bible hung up to read, there was a Christmas light show, there was a room where you could design your own Christmas ornament, and then finally there were the horses pulling carriages holding about 20 minute through a live re-enactment of the story leading up to Jesus' birth. It really was amazing to see it all and be a part of it, no matter what my religion. It was great to see a community dealing with Christmas from the point of view of it's origins, and not the over commercialised side of Christmas that we're so often used to seeing.

Christmas Day

We started with breakfast, and then a game of cards, called Pitch. Marlin taught us how to play, and I didn't really get it, but I persevered. I helped out again with the chores, even getting onto one of the horses in the process (I didn't exactly ride the horse, just sat on it), and then had a go at milking a cow. I wasn't exactly great at it but I did got some milk into the bucket. Presents were opened, and I was kindly given some chocolate and soup to keep me fed on my travels. Some friends arrived for Christmas dinner, and following that I was taught the classic cowboy game of Butt Darts. A mug is placed on the floor, and then you stand a few yards away from it, clench a quarter in your butt cheeks, then waddle over to the mug and attempt to drop the coin into it. Call it beginners luck, or good aim, I got it in first time. The entire room cheered and fell into hysterics, with Robert announcing "That's like winning the Superbowl!" No one else could match my aim, and I was crowned Butt Darts Champion 2010! Way to go! Later on we played more cards, and I was starting the get the rules. We played with two teams of three, and it looked like the team I was on was going to lose. The winner is the first to 11 points, and we were down 10 to 2. But the miracle of Christmas being what it is, we pulled it back to 10 - 10, and the final round was all to play for. Somehow the hand I was dealt was magic, and with my final card, we won the game 11 to 10. WAY. TO. GO!

Sunday December 26th

I got up at 7:30am to help Joy with the chores before she left to go back to Tempe. Luckily this was just in time to catch the tail end of a beautiful sunrise. Chores done, and Joy gone, I showered and prepared to leave. I desperately wanted to stay to continue my time on the ranch, but knew I should move on. My two days there could have been a week, and I felt I had really got to know the family, and genuinely hope I get to return one day. Marie kindly gave me some home made cheese to share with my next couchsurf hosts. Once I had traversed the mountain roads there...

Reaching out, and branching out...

Thursday December 23rd

Before bed on the Wednesday evening I had sent out a few couchsurf messages, and arranged to stay in Flagstaff for Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Amanda and Scott were themselves Jewish and said they were happy for me to stay over for Christmas, and give me a chance to visit the Grand Canyon. I had also made contact with Joy in Tempe, she was in the middle of moving and going back home for Christmas but said she could probably find me somewhere to sleep somehow. I replied to her with my number and told her to call me Thursday if she was around.

I decided I wanted a day off from driving so made a gentle stroll into Tempe, and the main drag called Mill Avenue, where all the bars and restaurants were. As I was strolling down the street my phone went, but I didn't recognise the number. I answered, and for a few seconds was mightily confused as I couldn't work out who Joy was. Then the penny (or cent) dropped. She explained she was now home for Christmas, but extended a very kind offer for me to join her and her family. Her parents lived 2 hours north from Tempe, pretty much on the way to Flagstaff. On a ranch. That rang out in my head. "On a ranch. On a ranch. You're being invited to a Christmas on a ranch". Despite my inward excitement, I explained I had planned to stay in Flagstaff, so I would think about it and get back to her. I went for lunch as I was starving, then made my way to the Hayden Butte, a small 20 minute hike that gave an outstanding view over Tempe and much of Arizona, including Phoenix to the west. During my walk there I called Scott and asked if it was alright if I pushed my stay with them by a couple of days. He said that was fine, and I planned to reach Flagstaff by Sunday, opening up Christmas Eve and day. I ventured to the top of Haden Butte (or 'A Mountain' as some call it, due to the large A on the side). I stayed up there for a couple of hours, taking in the view, enjoying the Chanukah Menorah that was still up there, listening to music on my ipod & people watching as others came and went. By 4pm I decided to return to Mill Ave for a Chai Tea, to check my emails and surf the net, then return to Hayden Butte for sunset. This I did, and took in the wonderful bright orange as it disappeared behind the distant mountains. I started coming down as it was almost dark, and rang Joy. I said I would be delighted to accept her offer to stay with her Family, and would arrive mid Friday afternoon. I ended the call, and walked back to James' house with a tingle of excitement in anticipation of the next few days. I knew nothing about the ranch, nothing about the family, and only what I had learnt about Joy on her couchsurf profile. But something inside me burned. Burned like a warm glowing fire on a late winter's night. Some how I knew I was going to enjoy my Christmas. I just hoped it lived up to the expectation I had set for it.

Going up...

A up...

A view...

The view...

The end...

That evening James had other plans to meet up with a friend of his, whilst I had seen another couchsurf meeting that was taking place at the Four Peaks, so I returned there and had a very pleasant evening with a number of new faces, namely Hytham, Mike, Richard, Charlotte, Angelique, Shirley (from Taiwan) and a few others. I had two beers over the space of 5 hours as I was driving (I had to drive to get there) and also in preparation for my drive in the morning. I went to bed, still with that warm burning feeling inside. In fact, my excitement was a bit too much, and I couldn't really sleep. It was almost like it was Chanukah. Or Christmas. Except it was, in approximately 24 hours. And I was heading to a ranch...

Very superstitious, writing's on the wall...

Wednesday December 22nd

I woke up Wednesday morning, and James had to be in work, but he gave me a key to the house and said I could come and go as I please. Again, the generosity and trust from strangers staggers belief. I looked on line for an interesting place to go, and read about the Superstition Mountains, just a 40 minute drive from Tempe. First I got some breakfast at a great little place called Harlow's Cafe, then I set off in search of some wilderness. And boy did I find some. My first stop was the Superstition Mountains Museum to pick up some information, and got a free map showing me where I could go. First stop would be the Lost Dutchman State Forest where I could go hiking up round the mountains. I parked my car, grabbed a bottle of water, chose my route, and off I went. The following two hours was breathtaking. I've never felt so insignificant in my life. In a positive way. There was not a soul but myself, and these huge mountainous rocks around me, and as I climbed higher and higher, I could see for miles around me in all directions. And so far, no rain, just bright beaming sunshine. Two birds blew above me and the only two sounds I could hear at that point was their squawk and the flapping of their wings.

The view approaching the Superstition Mountains.

The view climbing the Superstition Mountains.

The view behind the Superstition Mountains.

The view through part of the Superstition Mountains.

The view coming back down the Superstition Mountains.

Following the open wilderness, I headed for a more closed wilderness, traversing the mountainous Apache Trail 88 roads through the Superstition Mountains as I made my way to the Tortilla Flats. I'd never driven through such scenery, as I climbed and climbed through the mountains, then drove by, and stopped at, the fantastic Canyon Lake, before finally ending up at Tortilla Flats, a four barn stop consisting of a tiny museum, a grocery store, a restaurant and a gift shop. Tortilla flats originally came about as a stop for the workers making their way through the mountains to build the Hoover Dam. Rumour has it was so called the Tortilla Flats because some workers got stranded by a flash flood, and only had enough flour and water to make a few flat tortillas, and thus the name was born.

Canyon Lake

Open land

Tortilla Flats

It was dark by the time I drove back and driving back through the winding roads was both exhilarating and scary, but I loved every minute of it. I returned back to Tempe just as James returned from work, and he kindly cooked dinner before we went out to meet Matt and Renee and a few others for a few drinks at a few local bars. I went to bed, having experienced no rain. I kept my fingers crossed...

The Gonzo Road Trip...

Monday December 20th

Should I? Shouldn't I? Should I? Shouldn't I? I popped into Best Buy to get a cable so I could play my ipod through the aux in the car, and I walked past the GPS section. All I had was the printed map that Neil had given me to get me out of San Francisco onto the I5, but beyond that, it was just open road. And I knew the I10 went straight to Phoenix. After much dilly-dallying about, I decided for $79.99 it could be a worthwhile investment. It sure was.

I immediately got lost trying to get out of San Francisco, it was teaming down with rain, so immediately the GPS came to my rescue. Getting out of San Francisco took a good hour or so, and it was already 6:30pm by the time I was on the I5. I set myself a cut off point of about 11pm where I would stop and find a nearby Motel. By 10:45 I pulled of the I5 and found a Motel 6. I was in Lost Hills, California. Still a long way from Phoenix. I lay in bed in room 102 thinking about my (ad)venture. Was it the stupidest thing I had ever done? I could end up on the road for 10 days, no couchsurfing, spending $40 a night on motels, on my own for Christmas, pretty much going out my mind with loneliness. I was effectively living the life of a trucker. Only without the truck. Or a beard. I logged on to couchsurf and sent out a few requests and posted some messages on the Phoenix and Arizona pages.

I watched the weather on TV, and the impending deluge of wet weather from the West Coast was heading inland. I went to bed and set the alarm for 8:30am.

Tuesday December 21st

I got up, showered and checked my messages. There was one message from someone saying they couldn't offer me a place to stay, but there was a Foodie Tuesday meeting going on, where a bunch of people meet up to have dinner. I noted down the address. I munched an apple for breakfast, got in the car, and punched the address into the GPS. I had 526 miles to go. There was no way I could do that in a day. Could I?

I drove. And drove. And drove. I flipped between the radio and my ipod to keep things interesting. I drove. And drove. I stopped for lunch. It was pouring down with rain. It continued to pour with rain. I continued to drive. It continued to rain. Before dark hit I stopped to take in the surrounding desert, and it was spectacular. Then it got dark. Then it stopped raining. Then it got foggy. Then it started raining again. But I was getting closer. The GPS said I would arrive at about 8pm, and I wasn't feeling tired, I was still good to keep going. As I drove through Phoenix to reach Tempe, just a few miles east, the rain stopped. I pulled up outside the Blue Nile Cafe, and walked in. There was no one there. I got online and saw a few other people had posted saying they were going to a bar called Four Peaks, and one guy, James, had left his number. I checked his profile, decided he wasn't a crazy axe murderer and sent him a message. He replied; "yes, here with Matt, also a CSer, corner of bar, black jacket". I ate up, chatted to the (hot) girl working in the cafe, then made my way to the bar. For the first time in the US, my driving license wasn't accepted going into the bar, so I went back to the car to get my passport. Inside, I rang James and met up with them. We chatted for a while, and I thought it suitable to mention I didn't yet actually have anywhere to stay. James immediately said I could stay at his, he has a spare guest room with a bed. He double checked with his housemate, she said fine, and I was sorted. The girl serving us, Renee, turned out to also be on couchsurf, and said she'd be up for hanging out when she wasn't working. I'd arrived in Tempe at 8:30pm with nowhere to stay and no one to hang out with. It had stopped raining, was a comfortable 15 degrees Celsius, and by 10pm I had accommodation and people to hang out with. The difference a day makes. From a lonely Motel 6, to a comfortable Tempe bed. All in a days work. Or drive.

I went to bed with my fingers crossed that the rain would stay away...

The desert view from the I10

The car view from the desert

I'm on the road to nowhere...

I managed to find a rideshare through the Couchsurf website going from LA to San Francisco on Friday (17th December) so decided I would take that as my cue to move on. I spoke with Rose a couple of times as she was deciding what time to leave (and so she could verbally interview me without me realising, which is fair enough, letting a stranger into your car), and we arranged to meet at the Highland Park station just out of downtown. I sent out a few lastminute messages on Couchsurf to see if I could find a place to stay, and to quote Neil's response; "at the risk of committing to something without fully thinking it through...yeah". So I had a place to stay.

Fabio's housemate Natalie gave me a lift to the local station on Hollywood Boulevard and I made my way to Highland park. One other guy joined us in the rideshare (so four in total as Rose was travelling to SF with a friend of hers) and we made the 7 hour journey to San Francisco. We were dropped off at the Castro Valley station on the other side of the bay and I got the BART to the Civic Center station where I then got the number 6 bus to Neil's appartment. I didn't get to the appartment until about 8:30pm, so we immediately went out to get some dinner, along with Dina, a friend of Neil. I spent the following days exploring San Francisco, although the weather had taken a turn for the worse. I ventured into downtown, and then across Chinatown to the touristy Fisherman's Wharf, and across to Fort Mason. Neil showed me round a few bars in the trendy Mission area, and on Sunday he gave me a little driving tour of Ocean Beach and the Sutro Bath Ruins, as well as swinging by Golden Gate Park and the Bison that the San Francisco Zoo keep there. There was a definite feel to San Francisco that I felt at home with, and its relative small size (San Francisco itself is only 7 square miles) made it good to explore, although with the many hills it was tough on the legs.

The Golden Gate Bridge

Sutro Bath Ruins

The Pacific Sun Set

Michael, my close friend Raven's brother, is currently living and studying in San Francisco, and I had tentatively arranged to stay at his for the final 2 weeks of my trip so I could relax and settle down for a while, but something was gnawing inside me, and I felt I needed to explore some more. I met up with Michael before he returned to England for Christmas, and he kindly gave me a key to his place so I could crash there, but I decided I needed to see more of America. The rain was pelting down on the West Coast, so I looked up where might be dry. Southern Arizona was showing pretty decent weather, sunny, and in the high teens (Celsius). On Monday, I just thought "Sod it, let's go", so I contacted Enterprise, rented a car until December 30th, and began my Gonzo Road Trip to Arizona...

dystopian stereotypes...

Up until the day before I arrived, LA was still basking in baking sunshine, certainly not a typical December for anyone from England. Unfortunately I landed to thick fog, and whilst not exactly cold, it wasn't beach weather either. Los Angeles is a strangely engaging place. I went there with two preconceptions. One: you have to drive everywhere. Two, it's a fake place. I think I can unreservedly confirm number one. You do indeed need a car. Luckily Fabio has a rented car, so he picked me up from the airport and chauffeured me around for a couple of days. My first day in LA did show some sunshine, so we took the winding roads up to the Hollywood hills in search of the Hollywood sign. And find it we did (you can't exactly miss it). We hiked intending to get as close as we could. They don't like you getting close and we were prepared for the possibility of a helicopter arriving and shouting us down. With no helicopter in sight we continued up. Unfortunately they patrol the hills in 4x4's too. Out of nowhere came the announcement; "It's illegal to hike where you are, please climb down or you will be arrested". Over to our right was a Police vehice, lights flashing, speaker on full blast. We looked around. Yes, that meant us. There was no one else. We slowly started our way back down, but hidden slightly behind a tree, took a couple more photos. What are they going to do from a distance, shoot me? Oh, well, yeah, I suppose they could.

Having been in New Orleans for the previous 7 days, I wasn't particularly in a party mood, so I didn't tend to any night-life or bars, but instead enjoyed the noticeable relaxed vibe of being on the west coast. We drove to Santa Monica and Venice, and met up with some of Fabio's friends. On Thursday I walked around the rather tacky and tourist trapped Hollywood Boulevard, then took the Metro into downtown. Unfortunately, whilst I took my camera, I left the memory card in my laptop, so no photos ensued. Certainly the people I came across didn't seem fake, I think it's more to do with the size and scale of LA that you don't get a sense of real community, at least in the short time I was there. LA is really made up of many different cities, all under the umbrella term 'Los Angeles', so there is no real central location, just a number of built up areas all spread out. There are also a lot of homeless people, and many of them crazy, talking to themselves, or more to the point, talking to people they think are in front of them, but in reality is just thin air. A lot of them push their trolleys around with them, full of all their worldly possessions. Blade Runner, made in 1982, represents a dystopian Los Angeles, and to be honest, I'm not sure Ridley Scott was that far off. Only another 9 years to find out...

waiting for Jim Morrison...

from the swamp to the hills...

NEW ORLEANS SWAMP:

LOS ANGELES HOLLYWOOD HILLS:

heart beat...

There is no way I could really describe New Orleans to you all. Wait, let me rephrase that. There is no way I could really describe New Orleans to y'all. That's better.

NOLA (New Orleans Louisiana, it took me a while to work that out) is crazy. Absolutely crazy. It makes no sense. In a good way. The city surrounds the meandering Mississippi river, acting like a heartbeat to its vibrant streets. Those streets criss-cross all over the place, north to south, east to west, to southwest, to northeast, following the loops of the river. Only five years ago this great city was devastated by the events of Hurricane Katrina, but as the waters receded, that heartbeat still pumped. The city picked itself up, and found a way to carry on. You still get a sense of the recovery that is still ongoing, many of the roads are uneven and potholed, many of the houses still lie empty. But there is much construction work and a great feeling of moving forward. One man told me that time is divided into two zones in the this part of the country. Pre-K & Post-K. Listening to a local band play live on the radio the interviewer asked how long they'd been together. "Four years" came the reply. "Aah, so you're a post-K band" she said. He wasn't lying.

The past week has flown by, and now I'm moving on to LA. I feel like I'm moving on to a new part of my journey now. Having met Drew about a month ago when we both stayed with Tara & Lexi in Minneapolis, I would never have imagined we would have just ventured on a 2 week roadtrip from Washington DC to New Orleans together. We've had many more ups than downs, and it's been great having someone on the road to see and do things together. But now I'm ready to move again, and I'm looking forward to the next part of my trip. I could have continued by bus, but the southwest of America really is best viewed if you have acess to a car, and I managed to find a flight to LA (via Denver) for $140, so decided that way I could meet up with Fabio (we worked at SEE together, he now lives in LA) before he went home to Spain for Christmas, and from there make my way up to San Francisco. Having had the past 2 weeks roughly mapped out in advance, it's nice to get back to the unknown road...

A taste of NOLA...

There really is very little I can say right now to adequately explain New Orleans, Louisiana. It really is a place like no other I have ever been to. I had heard so much about it, mainly through my dad back home and Phoebe in New York, but in reality you can only understand it by coming here. Tonight will be my final night here, but I have no idea where time has gone this week. I will have spent a total of 6 nights here, seen some unbelievable music, ate some amazing food, ventured out to the swamps, heard amazing stories, tried to comprehend how they coped with Katrina, eaten a beignet (it's like heaven covered in sugar), eaten the most AMAZING pecan pie I've ever eaten (it's like an alternative heaven), hung out with two of the friendliest hosts in the world (Ashley & Ashley, or Ashley One and Ashley Two as Drew and I describe them), met other couchsurfers passing through NOLA, met a local photographer by chance at a gallery showing his photograph and generally been consumed by the wonder that is NOLA. When I have more time I will describe more tales, but my journey takes on a new stage tomorrow as I fly out to LA. My trip with Drew has been pretty epic, and he continues tomorrow to drive back to Pennsylvania for Christmas with his family, whilst I travel west...

Extra time...

We ended up staying in Montgomery an extra day. Despite Tony leaving to go to Baltimore for a few days, he insisted he was happy for us to stay and provided us with a key to the apartment. Drew and I thought this too good to turn down, so we enjoyed an extra day on Monday relaxing in the apartment and taking more time to see the Capital Building, Civil Rights Memorial and Rosa Parks Museum. Lunch was an EPIC hotdog in the very old school Chris' Hotdogs, established in, and seemingly unchanged since, 1916. Monday evening we cooked up enough pasta to feed an army so we could take the remainder with us for our trip to New Orleans.

Alabama State Capitol, Montgomery.

EPIC hotdog.

Tuesday morning we still didn't have a place to stay in New Orleans, so knew perhaps we'd have to get a cheap motel, or possibly just go out into the evening, have a few drinks, and probably find somewhere somehow. We were also debating whether to stay another day in Montgomery and take advantage of Tony's amazing apartment. I posted a message on the NOLA page of couchsurf and soon had a response from Ashley saying we could stay at her place if we still didn't have anywhere. We took this as our queue to leave. We rang Ashley and began our journey to the Big Easy. We arrived not too late and found the house, in the middle of uptown. We consumed our Montgomery made pasta, and went for a couple of drinks at a local neighbourhood bar. Ashley seemed to know everyone, and Drew and I played some pool against the locals. At 1am we returned to the house to position our floor mats and sleeping bags, met Ashley's other housemate, called Ashley, and caught some shuteye. Thus began the grip that is New Orleans, Louisiana. A grip that would take hold for the next few nights...

Favourites...

It would be unfair and unjust of me to have 'favourites' when it comes to people who host me, mainly because everyone is so different, and it would be unfair to compare and subsequently judge them. Plus, that's not what the process is about. We're not here to judge who is better than who and who deserves a better rating. However, it is also natural that you will have varying degrees of opinions, and despite the relatively short periods of time you spend with people, different sorts of bonds and relationships grow. I haven't yet had a bad experience or met anyone I haven't liked or enjoyed spending time with, but there is a natural order that develops in your own mind. I'd like to think that certain people know they're towards the top of my list, and I expect they will be friends whom I keep in contact for many years. Having said all of that, I must say that staying with Tony in Montgomery has been one of the greatest couple of days of my trip so far. I've often heard the phrase 'southern hospitality' used, but until this weekend could never give it any context.

Following Saturday nights fascinating conversation, Sunday morning was opened with a fantastic pancake and omelette breakfast cooked for us by Tony. All you need know is cheese, eggs, pancakes, peanut butter nutella, strawberries and sprinklings of caster sugar were involved. Simply AWESOME. We then relaxed in his apartment for a while before he drove us to the Montgomery Museum of Fine Arts and the Hank Williams Jr Museum. For dinner we went to a classis southern buffet, a place called Tomatoes, you paid $8 upfront, then ate as much as you wanted! I had rice, different types of fried chicken, deep fried tomatoes, mac and cheese, some other stuff (no idea what!), and then desert of pecan pie, banana ice cream stuff, other stuff, and stuff, and more stuff and oh my god I can't move for ever. Ever. Amen.

Following that we relaxed back at his place, and he showed us how to 'light write' using a camera (long shutter speed & full aperture).

Chez Tony Breakfast, Montgomery, Alabama.

Tony, Me, Drew & Hank.

Light Sabre Light Writing.

I fell hook line and sinker for Tony's little joke...

When setting up your couchsurf profile you're asked to fill out your 'mission statement', a simple one liner to sum up your current plan/situation/hopes etc. Mine reads "to see the world through my own eyes, untainted by TV, radio or newspapers...". I feel this suitably sums up the past 7 weeks, but this weekend it really rang true. Later in the evening he showed us some photos from Afghanistan, and I wouldn't want to repeat any of the stories he told us, simply because I think that would be wrong of me to tell them, but I was fascinated. I've read many newspapers stories from Afghanistan, seen many news reports, but there I was hearing the stories direct from someone who has seen it, travelled there, met the locals, felt the anger and bitterness towards him and the occupying forces, taken some photos, and returned home. I felt truly humbled. No TV. No radio. No newspaper. Just Tony, and his story.

To cap, this is my couchsurf history to date, as shown on my couchsurf profile:

In Montgomery I was hosted by Tony.
In Macon I was hosted by Jacob and met fellow CS-ers Ray & Daryl.
In Asheville I was hosted by Patrick & friends.
In Carrboro I was hosted by Lori.
In Washington DC I was hosted by Lauren, Rachel & Autumn (and Carrot the Cat).
In Philadelphia I was hosted by Wanda(& the boystown crew).
In Upper Black Eddy I was hosted by Alyssa & Donna.
In Pittsburgh I was hosted by Drew.
In Toledo I was hosted by Mike.
In the Upper Territories I travelled with Drew, Alyssa & Mandy, whom I met couchsurfing in Minneapolis.
In Minneapolis I experienced my first official couch surf, with my wonderful hosts Tara & Lexi.
In Chicago I went to a CS hosted Halloween Party and met a number of people, including Tara.
In New York I met with Baptiste and had a coffee and discussed travelling.

http://www.couchsurfing.org/davidsaulfineberg

Brain matters...

Jacob showed us around Macon on Friday morning, and Ray also joined us. We hit a downtown restaurant for brunch at midday, and then walked down to the Otis Reading statue before driving over to the Allman Brothers museum called 'The Big House', situated within the actual house that they lived in during the early seventies.

Sitting on the dock of the bay...

The golden age...

We eventually left about 4pm for our three hour drive to Montgomery where we had another couchhost set up, Tony. Our journey there was pretty straightforward, although the 'Check Engine' light did flash. My lack of motoring knowledge was pretty useless, but a quick look didn't show anything serious, and a nearby Auto shop plugged in an electronic monitor that said it might have something to do with the catalytic converter. The same thing happened a month or so ago and it didn't cause any problems so on we went.

We arrived into Montgomery, a quiet but lovely little southern town. We waited in the car for 10 minutes as Tony was at the grocery store, and when he arrived he showed us up to his apartment. Not only does he have a wonderful apartment, but it is also situated in the building where Rosa Parks used to work. They were originally going to knock it down but it was eventually bought and turned into apartments, so at least the building has been preserved. Tony showed us the bus stop where Rosa Parks boarded for the now infamous bus journey and I quite genuinely felt a shiver down my spine. We went for dinner, which he very kindly paid for (he pays for every first meal with his couchsurfers) and I quickly knew that not only would I get along with Tony, but would find him very interesting. He has worked in the military for 11 years, joining when he was 19. He initially joined the infantry and tank division, then worked for the recruiting department, then the marketing department, was then posted to Afghanistan for 12 months, returning 7 months ago rejoining the Marketing Department. We spent the rest of the evening, into the early hours, discussing all sorts, from politics, to philosophy, to the size of our brains, to films and his time in the military. Despite tiredness kicking in I just wanted to stay up and talk. By 2am (and we'd gained an hour travelling, so 3am) it was time for bed. Drew took the couch and I got the large blow up mattress that was in the spare room. Another day of fascinating tales and stories. I'm just grateful I have enough room in my brain to take it all in. From seeing dolphins by the beach on Friday to hearing stories about Afghanistan from a US soldier on Saturday, it's been an eye opening 48 hours. And in another 48 hours or so, I'll be in New Orleans...