Day 1 – Manchester to Dublin
Arrived after a short flight from Manchester. Weather cold but sunny and it had attracted large numbers to the city centre. We sat outside O’Donoghues and got our first taste of the legendary Guinness – brewed not from Liffey water but from the clear springs of the Wicklow Mountains, probably just as well if you’ve got a long flight the following morning.
We moved on to Sinnott’s. This is a huge subterranean sports bar. Huge TV screens, comfortable seating, tasty burgers and a choice drinks’ selection, very American. We ensconced and watched the Masters, the Grand National (this being Dublin, the noise must have been like that in the Colosseum on a Roman feast day in 100BC). There was also Premier League football, which attracted less interest. Dave went up the vertiginous stairs for a cigarette outside. As he was returning he collapsed (maybe a reaction to the Vino Collapso) down the stairs and cut his head. An ambulance was called and Dave was patched up and soldiered manfully on.
We wanted to have an evening bite (dinner sounds too grand) and tried TGIF, round the corner from our hotel. Sometimes TGIF can be lifesavers, but not tonight. Far too many kids and too much party jollity. We walked the short distance to Hogs and Heifers and finished our evening with more Guinness and steaks and salad.
Day 2 – Dublin to Washington DC
We had chosen to fly via Dublin as you can clear US immigration there and avoid queues on the other side. As you might imagine, considerable security and automated passport readers (something of a novelty in those days). Dave’s cut reopened and for a minute it was touch and go if he would be allowed to fly. Paramedics were called and we were all on our way. The Aer Lingus flight was uneventual apart from the screens breaking down (better the screens than a couple of engines, so we didn’t end up in a disaster movie). They compensated us with some beers, Bailey’s and wine which I thought was the thick end of the wedge.
Landed in Washington DC in a nicely quiet Dulles International Airport, carousels all worked, baggage came quickly, no pushing and shoving (like you have in JFK). A taxi into downtown cost $70, with the inevitable tip. The days before Uber and Waymo! The ride was worth the price, through verdant rolling Virginia countryside, hard to imagine this was scene of many of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War. (Same could be said of northern France or Belgium, I suppose.) After about an hour we crossed the Potomac and into downtown DC.
We checked into the Hotel Harrington, ideally located for an hour or two of monument tourism. In case you were suffering from amnesia and had forgotten which country you were in, the incredible smell of seriously fried food would bring you back to the only possible conclusion – the USA! I saw a waiter carrying a USA- size plate (diameter 2 feet) spilling over with huge onion rings and, the perfect accompaniment, pickled gherkins.
In the cold, bright sunshine we strolled along Pennsylvania Avenue to admire the national capitol. It is a fitting monument to the Republic, neo-classical architecture blazing white in the early Spring sunlight. It was built in 1800 when the federal capital was moved from Pennsylvania to DC. So Washington DC, after much debate, is not in a state. It has no senators or congressmen, only a mayor. As you drive around DC the most popular bumper sticker is “No taxation without representation!” An echo of the revolutionary slogan of the 1770s.
Sunday evening is quiet and with a clear sky. With its imposing and elegant buildings it certainly looks the part of an imperial capital, a latter day Rome before the barbarians came! But beware! Beneath the surface lies another America. A block away from the Capitol, homeless black bag people queue for hostels, addicts wander glazed eyed begging angrily, sometimes busking.
We end the evening,anxious to get off the streets, in a sports bar showing ice-hockey only. The food was poor, Americans put up with poor restaurant food too often. I had crab cakes, Stu a burger, Ken a chicken breast, mash and truly revolting pasta. Dave had nothing, again. In America, unless in New York, New Jersey or the few normal parts of California never order off-piste. Go the steak route, the route 66 of the menu. Especially if you ever plan to motor west, as we were the day after tomorrow.
Day 3 – Washington DC
We decided against breakfast in Harrington’s, last week’s oil was still being used to train the senses and the local police dogs were salivating. Strolled down Constitution Avenue and, wouldn’t you just know it, we found a McDonalds. No surprises with the breakfast: bacon, sausage, eggs, soggy hash browns (not really hash browns, but that’s another story) and no grits.
Took a taxi over the Potomac to Arlington National Cemetery. This is hallowed ground for the USA. It is home to the final resting places of many unsung heroes of America’s military history. It grew out of the Civil War, the land was taken off the estate of Robert E. Lee, the military commander of the rebel Confederacy. The grounds are impeccably kept and there were groups of people walking round, paying respect. There is a Kennedy area – JFK’s grave with the eternal flame requested by his wife, Robert Kennedy’s more simple grave and Edward Kennedy’s resting place. A good part of America’s history, and it makes you think…
The changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier – a memorial to those whose bodies were recovered from wars, but shattered beyond all recognition – was most impressive. The guardsmen had rifles with bayonets fixed, sunglasses and boots with cleats which struck together to add to the ritual and atmosphere. A display of power and dignity which I’m glad I saw. This is another side of America, not the land of Miami, Las Vegas, Hollywood and razzamatazz , but a land of respect for its past and what many have died for. It’s worth going to see.
We walked, yes walked, back into DC, over the Potomac through Lady Bird Johnson Park and over the Arlington Memorial Bridge. We arrived at the Lincoln Monument – for my money the greatest monument in the world. The statue of the great man, seated serenely and looking down over the Reflecting Pool and surrounded by the words of the Gettysburg Address is breathtaking. In 1963 Martin Luther King gave his “I have a dream” speech here. I think Lincoln would have been disappointed that the USA still had so far to go, but impressed with MLK.
We passed the National WW2 Memorial, the Korean War Memorial, the Vietnam War Memorial – all impressive (but Vietnam? Not the soldiers’ faults, so I suppose they deserve a memorial). Say what you like about the USA, but they spare no cost for their memorials. Maybe that’s one way, but only one way, for a country to measure its history. I know DC is a place for American children to learn about their incredible history, their place in the world – yes, with its original sin writ large, but also its scientific achievements and so much more. As John Mellencamp sang, maybe with some justifiable irony, “Ain’t that America, home of the free, yeah?” (listen to the whole song, a masterpiece of observation.)
Lunch was in the “Off the Record” bar in the Hay Adams hotel, next to the White House. It was velvety red, louche and a touch prissy. It sold good IPA, always a redeeming factor. The bill was huge , so the bar must have been better than I remember it. The restrooms were excellent, so maybe they were extra.
The White House is actually one of Washington’s less impressive monuments. Of course when the constitution was written the presidency was supposed to be a much smaller institution than it has evolved into. Under the huge pressures of wars and the great depression Lincoln and FDR were forced to create the “imperial presidency”, safe in their well tempered hands but less so after 1945.
Took an evening stroll into Georgetown, perfect if you like cupcake shops and cobblestone streets. It’s also perfect if you go to an Irish restaurant and the food arrives cold and not as described on the menu. We refused to pay and went back to the hotel , looking forward to the motor west. A few good days in DC!
Day 4 – Washington DC to Charleston WV
We had hired a medium sized SUV which was only slightly smaller than a UK minibus, but far more comfortable and with way more electronic gadgets to ensure a comfortable ride. I suppose Americans drive so many miles, often just to buy the 4 gallon carton of milk they forgot to get earlier in the day, that they choose to ride in comfort.
Leaving DC was no easy matter. There was heavy traffic, heavier rain and our Tomtom became befuddled. It was unable to cope with the rush-hour renversement of the traffic flow systems and suddenly we found ourselves driving headfirst into 2 lanes of large, angry cars whose drivers were apparently auditioning for leading roles in a remake of Death Race 2000. Thanks to some expert driving we lived to tell the tale. Once we crossed the Beltway things calmed down and we crossed into Maryland. We drove west, away from Maryland’s main litoral attractions, and into its interior. What I hadn’t realized was how far Maryland stretches from east to west. The route was scenic enough, through valleys of “dead” trees and wooden houses partially hidden by the forest. It’s not somewhere you’d care to break down at night, not if you’d been watching any Burt Reynold’s movies recently (OK ,that was Georgia, but you get the picture).
Got into Charleston successfully and checked into our hotel, the Hotel Capitol which was very good – large rooms and right in the middle of town. Brisked it to a local sportsbar where the bartenders helpfully found the Manchester City vs Paris St. Germain match. City won, so Stuart celebrated with a double portion (in America! Wow!) of apple pie and cream. Didn’t see anything left in the huge bowl! In the evening went for a drink in The Rock – they served an IPA, Breckenridge 471 which was very tasty. We finished off with pizza in Pies and Pints. I had a pizza which, to my surprise, was outstanding, probably the best I’ve ever had. It was enormous, to my no great surprise, and the doggy-bag served as my packed lunches for the next 2 days. There was a dedicated pizza-heating compartment below the dash, comes as standard apparently.
Charleston was small town America and very welcome for its value for money, good humour and friendliness. It was a pleasing contrast to the epic scale and imperial grandeur of DC and a reminder that most Americans still live in comfort, walk down the streets peacefully with their children and eat large portions of food! Tomorrow off to Nashville.
Day 5 – Charleston WV to Nashville TN
Still adjusting to the time differences, we woke up early (06:00) and prepared to go, first having to scrape the ice off the windscreen – a surprise for a state which shares latitudes with Lisbon, Rome and Greece, but it doesn’t share the gulf stream. The trip to Nashville was 400 kms and smooth enough. There was little traffic and we stopped for breakfast in Lexington, Kentucky. Apart from the Macdonald’s our interest was piqued by the gun supermarket over the road: handguns, rifles, bullets, axes, chain mail – no dynamite though, I suppose even the USA has to draw the line somewhere.
We were on the “Blue Grass Highway” – real horse breeders’ territory, countryside as green as anywhere in Ireland and beautiful rolling valleys. Lincoln immediately realized Kentucky’s vital role in the Civil War: its industry, its transport links across the Union and into the Confederacy. He said, “I hope to have God on my side, but I must have Kentucky.” He got it. I cheered the Union victory with a piece of freshly reheated pizza.
We checked into a Howard Johnson’s motel in Nashville, fairly priced and well worth the money ($60). The weather had become a bit more southern and we strolled down the road to the High 5 bar for lunch. This was a real find – a friendly all black clientele who were happy to chat with us about the UK and what we thought about the USA. Could have stayed longer.
In the evening we took a taxi downtown. The taxi driver told us Nashville was the fastest growing city in the USA, and it showed. There were new skyscrapers being built on every corner and the pavements teemed with people struggling for space. This was a Wednesday evening and just too crowded. We had been to Nashville before and it was great fun, not this time. We went in a karaoke bar, really not sure why, where rednecks (precursors of MAGA people) looked like they were waiting for Nixon to return and sang along to mawkish, obscure country music. Whatever you may think, country has produced some wonderful artists and songs and it’s a real shame about places like this.
We had dinner in a smartish Italian restaurant “Demos”, off the strip and mercifully quiet. I had good tilapia and creamed spinach, Dave actually ate (I was surprised he remembered how to do it) his pasta, Ken had a triple burger and hash browns and Stuart chicken, fries and apple pie.
In a big noisy bar the bartender told us she didn’t want to work for a salary, she makes far more on tips! She pays the owner to work there! Not sure if that would’ve worked in our local, the Cotton Tree!
We got an Uber back to the hotel and Stuart and Ken walked to a garage to buy some beers for tomorrow. (Fail to prepare, prepare to fail.)
Day 6 – Nashville TN to Atlanta GA
On the road to Atlanta, the black capital of the south, birthplace of Martin Luther King and of the Civil Rights movement. The Battle of Atlanta 1864 was central to the Unionist victory and Lincoln’s reelection. When you have a minute look up Sherman’s “necktie”, devised so the south could never use rail lines again. The Civil War moves into its final deadly stages. On a less historic note it is also the birthplace of Coca Cola.
En route we found a diner run by old ladies in the middle of nowhere. It was really olde-worlde (by American standards) with pennants and Little League photos on the wall. The ladies were really pleased to see us, and we were pleased to be there. We all had vegetarian omelettes which were very well done. I asked for some hot water, but it was only after I said water to rhyme with “patter” that it came along and I could make my green tea – a relief from USA coffee.
We had decided to visit Chattanooga, just north of the Georgia border and perhaps made famous by Glenn Miller and the era of big band swing of the 1940s. Obviously we went to the railway station and it was pleasant with delightful gardens. Some old carriages now form part of a hotel and the whole place was well worth the visit. We found a Chattanooga steam/microbrewery serving decent IPA and the guys had a few for lunch. Dave said his Margarita was the best he’d ever had, but he says that in every bar!
Checked into the Country Inn and Suites by Radisson, a few miles outside Atlanta centre. It was a good hotel, large comfortable rooms and, even more important, a good bar right next door. The Bullpen Rib House sold good, local IPA and on another occasion, we’d have stayed and eaten there. We Ubered it downtown and had a couple of drinks at the CNN building – a fairly unremarkable tasteless and vast concrete mix of offices, shops and carparks that much of America seems to live, work and play in.
We dined at Legal Sea Food. This was a pleasant restaurant with great views over the Atlanta skyline. We ate the almost obligatory “New England Clam Chowder” – served at every Presidential inauguration since 1981 (that would be Reagan) which the menu claimed is iconic but it was tepid, grey and ordinary, with slimy croutons. The main of seared tuna with collard greens was much better and just about worth the visit.
Met up with my daughter-in-law, Flor, who was in Atlanta on a business trip, in a fairly spectacular rooftop bar, a SkyLounge no less in the Glenn Hotel. More great views of the neon and glass of Atlanta. This was obviously very popular with the Atlanta in-crowd. Felt more like a place to network than to relax while on holiday.
Tomorrow Biloxi.
Day 7 – Atlanta GA to Biloxi MS
Radisson’s provided a good breakfast, if a bit heavy on the DIY waffles and syrup. The peach juice was just perfect, real Georgia stuff and it was the perfect accompaniment to the magnolia drawl of the waitresses here. Like being served by Blanche DuBois without the obsessions.
After a worryingly long drive we breathed a collective sigh of relief (apart from Dave, obviously) and parked up at a Denny’s. As to be expected in the south, the grits were excellent, served with a spoon of cream, 2 poached eggs and English muffins – it would have been nice to eat them listening to Randy Newman’s “Rednecks”, but next time hopefully. Stuart went for the egg-white omelette and Paul had toast and plus de beurre. Dave took a coffee and a rain-check.
We crossed into the Florida panhandle and after a long a boring drive on the Interstate 10 ended up in a place called Gonzalez. It looked normal until we realized that every building on the road was an evangelical church, fine if you’d come for a fellowship or a revelation. But we were more interested in margaritas and IPA’s. At long last “Ollie’s” made an apparition and we could finally stop for lunch.
After yet another boring couple of hours on the I10 we arrived at Biloxi. We took a cab to Shaggy’s, a beachside bar overlooking the Gulf of Mexico (or Gulf of America now, I believe). The weather was grey and blustery but we did our traditional road trip quiz and polished off a few Sierra Nevada’s.
Biloxi still bore the signs of Hurricane Katrina – huge pilasters and columns from ante-bellum mansions dumped on the waterfront just the most obvious evidence. Talking to some of the staff in Shaggy’s there lingered a belief that the Federal Relief Agency had diverted all the emergency funds to New Orleans, while Biloxi was hung out to dry, so to speak.
Caught another cab, yes another, because in America (apart from New York and, at a push, Chicago) everywhere is too far to walk. This time to the Beau Rivage Casino and the cheap drinks, tumbling dice, high rollers and all the faites vos jeux that you need for a good night. I won a few dollars on blackjack and we celebrated by going to the buffet. It had great roast beef, ribs galore, poached lobster claws, gumbo, catfish, sweet potato mash – everything you needed.
On the way back the taxi-driver didn’t know the way and we ended up on a dark country lane and, at one point, it looked like it might turn dodgy – especially as the driver was sure to be armed. Fortunately, by chance, we found the right road and turned in. New Orleans tomorrow.
Day 8 – Biloxi MS to New Orleans LA
We had hoped for the weather to brighten up but it remained subdued, slightly wet and cool. True to the plan we had breakfast in Denny’s and, true to my plan, I had more grits, worried they may be the last of the trip – so I made the most of them with double portions of cream and obligatory soft and runny poachers, tabasco sauce and muffins. We drove across enormous bayous where we saw alligator eyes just looking for a meal to emerge from the swamps – the kind of places where the freedom riders were murdered in 1961 and where the White Knights of the Ku Klux Klan ran the show (not Louisiana, What’s got 4 I’s and no brain? – do yourself a favour and watch the film), thankfully no longer.
We checked into Hotel St. Pierre, very central. It was just off Bourbon St, the legendary centre of New Orlean’s French quarter. St. Pierre was old, rickety but had a certain ante-bellum southern elegance, I think the floorboards and plumbing were equally ante-bellum. We dropped off the car and found a cab to whisk us off to Manning’s Sports Bar. This was something of a palace, vast leather reclining armchairs to watch the sports on about 50 huge screens. The menu was composed of various assortments, each bigger than the other, of everything caught, harvested and slaughtered in the USA! (often slathered in cheese or deep fried in oil.) With sides of fries, spicy creole this or hot cajun that. I daren’t describe the heart attacks of the desserts! The beer menu was outstanding once you got past the Miller Lite 2% department and hit the hops! On the way back we went, not by cab, to the Cornet Roof Bar in the French Quarter which had good views overlooking Bourbon Street, an interesting menu and pencilled it in for tomorrow’s dinner.
We were looking forward to a Saturday night in New Orleans.
The last time we spent an evening out in downtown New Orleans it was fantastic – great, friendly atmosphere; trad jazz bands in the streets; bars, full but not crowded or rowdy. This time it was a Saturday and the area around Bourbon Street became a crowded hellhole of hen/stag parties and shirtless drunks, whistling and stupid. The atmosphere was sour and to compensate the bars seemed to have doubled their prices and served the drinks in plastic containers. A lesson learned – go to New Orleans on a weekday.
Sunday morning we took a paddle steamer, The Natchez, along a stretch of the “father of waters”, ‘ol Man River” himself – the Mississippi. He was still rolling along, as indifferent to us as he had been to the suffering of the slaves over the centuries. It’s one of world’s mightiest rivers and for a long time paddle steamers transported passengers and goods up to Memphis and Vicksburg and down to New Orleans. The growth of the railways saw an end to this business. The weather was extremely windy – ironic as our next stop would be Chicago, the “windy city”.
Dinner was at the Cornet. We had “Satchmo’s Favorite Dish”, red beans and rice with grilled smoked sausage and infused bloody mary’s to wash it down. It was all served in a relaxing, sophisticated atmosphere – such a welcome contrast to last night.
Day 9 – New Orleans LA to Chicago IL
We took an early flight to Chicago, the airport was quiet and efficient. In Chicago we hired a car and drove into Wisconsin to go shopping in one of the thousands of retail outlets that spread across the States. Although Wisconsin and Illinois are 1500 miles north of Louisiana, it was much hotter in the north. We went into a bar for lunch and had a very decent shepherd’s pie. We asked the bartender what she thought of Donald Trump (who looked like he would get the Republican nomination to fight Hilary Clinton). She told us that in the bars of Wisconsin they never discussed politics. Later that year, the Donald unexpectedly carried Wisconsin and the rest is history. Later we checked into the Lincoln Hotel on West Diversey Parkway, within walking distance of the hugely impressive Lake Michigan. We dropped off the car and strolled to Miller’s Bar for drinks and a supper of grilled fish.
Day 10 – Chicago IL
We had breakfast at Yolk, which surprisingly specialized in eggs. After a stoll to the Navy Pier, we cabbed it to the “Golden Mile” of Michigan Avenue and bought some toys and various pieces of Americana for the families. One of Trump’s Towers was close by and we went to have a look, out of interest. The foyer was surprisingly shabby with very little sign of activity and a fraying carpet. We saw no evidence of guests. We went up to the bar with a view, apparently. We could get in, but there was no bartender and, strangely for a bar, no sign of any drinks in the cabinets. So we gave up and went back to our favourite bar, Miller’s.
At Miller’s we watched Manchester City vs. Newcastle United, a truly awful game. This was a few months before Guardiola began his reign, and I doubt that City have ever played as badly as this since. The bartender, Michael, an Anglophile, assured us that “Hilary will win” and that did appear to be the received wisdom. How on earth could Trump possibly win? But Chicago is possibly the Democrats’ most committed city in the USA and it was not alone in allowing its judgements to be fatally clouded. Hilary won the popular vote by 3 million votes, but Trump won the Electoral College and that’s what counts.
We took the famed El back to the hotel. It was fine, but not an experience I’d fancy trying at night. We entered a quiz in a bar in Diversey, it was well run but without knowledge of American TV shows we stood no chance. But taking part was fun and a prelude to Ken and Stuart hitting the “sliders”, which are small slippery burgers which slide straight down.
Day 11 – Back home
We took a cab to O’Hare and said good bye to the Windy City. We flew out from a new terminal which lacked a decent bar. The flight to Dublin was half full, always a bonus. Had a pint of Guiness at 06:00 (really 23:00 for me, and that’s my excuse) in Dublin airport – it tasted clean and cold and a great way to sign off on another great road trip.