Wednesday 13 March 2013

A Holiday! A Holiday!

... And the first one of the year! (well, unless you count those three glorious days in sunny Leicester in January). Yes, i am 23 and have reached that point in my working life (3 years and counting, baby) where i have become disillusioned with earning money and have decided to stop for a while. As many others have done before me and, presumably will continue to do so until Butlins ups it game, i am off abroad. Britain is currently broken (think cat in bin, horsemeat and Sir Jimmy) so i simply have to leave, but i've been feeling for a while now that the usual hotspots for travellers just won't cut it. South East Asia? Bit obvious. Australia? Not whilst Paul Robinsons still on the loose. New Zealand? Well, whilst non-stop Crowded House is appealing, i just couldn't deal with all the Lord of the rings chitchat.

No, for me, it has to be America. Nice, understated and reserved. US of A. I confess, i have been a couple of times over the past two years. Both road trips (the second of which we had a sweeet Chrysler convertible). I learnt many things on my two respective trips. The four most important, however, really changed my view on the old colony (was it a colony? what even is a colony?). The first is how glorious the people are. So bloody welcoming, so darn generous and most importantly, always willing to buy you a beer. The second, how stunning american beer is. British people tend to think they have the best ales and beers in the world, with a vague nod of appreciation in the direction of Belgium. but only very vague you understand. the states beer glass is, rather surprisingly, positively half full. the like the american people, they are ballsy, full of life, relentlessly thrilling and always surprising - a welcome change to britains overwhleming amountof middle of the road ales. the third? never sleep in a car. we attempted this on numerous occassions - always after drinking (a nightcap is required because no matter how big the nissan versa, cars are not comfortable places for a kip). Among other things, we awoke in the middle of fun runs, got picked up by the scariest woman in all of virginia (my dream, my nightmare...) and found a distressing amount of blood on our car bonnet when attempting the car-kip on the blue ridge parkway. and finally the fourth...

America is really perculiarly full of trees. Like really full. no one really talks about it, but theyre there. just as the prairies, the deserts, the stunning beaches and the Baldwins, they are overwhelming. So ridiculously vast, so immense, so terrifying (BEARS! DELIVERANCE! SNAKES!) and stunning. Not in the 'oh-my-days-that-pashmina-looks-stunning-on-you' kind of way, in the literal poop-your-pants, slap-your-face, spit-out-your-tea kind of way. They are ridiculous. Horizon to horizon of a thick blanket of trees, draped over mountains. These are very very occassionally dotted with charming little towns (regardless of Pigeon Forge - spiritual and actual home of Dollywood!) filled with beer, american people and beds that aren't the front seat of a Nissan Versa. The woods of which i write so adoringly (move over Wordsworth, Ali finally learnt how to spell) cover the Appalachian Mountains.

i've never really been much of a real man. indeed, i did once eat a raw egg like an apple (shell and all. damn right.), but other then that i'm a bit of a nancy. manual labour, fighting and action films aren't really my bag. somewhere along the way i ended up being the semi-lovable scamp. a bit of comic relief (pop psychology anybody?). despite my best efforts, i'm much more shaggy from scooby doo than shackleton. So. time to change this. i'm going to walk the appalachian trail. 2200ish miles of woodland, bears, and crazed mountainfolk who have spent too much of their time copulating with their parents and drinking homemade corn liquor to have comparable etiquette to that of a charming bar tender from Bristol. not a boast as such, but i do very occassionally get compared to a young hugh grant.

OK, i only have three months, so will probably end up doing half the trail. come on, i'm not paula radcliffe as much as i'd like to be. atlantaish to washington dcish - 1 hour 40 minutes by internal flight, 3 months on foot. i'm going to do both. but not alone. oh no, sister. i'd get bored of my own company (i've heard all my witty annecdotes so many times before, they've become rather a bore- was that a poem?). i'm going with rich, my trusted medieval king of a friend whom i first met whilst he was dressed as Heidi in a magic bar (ah, illusions). We set off in couple of weeks, and i'm hoping for a kind of adventure hybrid of that playful woodland romp, the Disney Robin Hood film (Oodelally!!!) and Kerouacs On the Road. Yessss, yasss, yesss.

For my first ever post, this has gone on far too long. But i aim to keep updating this every week or so when we hit "civilisation" (something about having a purdy mouth springs to mind...). Its just easier then sending postcards or making phone calls etc etc etc...

To the woods! And more importantly - to Virginia, where my true love / assassinator awaits for me.

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