Day 87 - Walking In Memphis, Amongst Other Things...

From – Nashville, TN
To – Memphis, TN
Miles Driven – 213

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157613133699935/

We’re a bit behind with the blog at the moment so I’m going to make this a quickie, catch up edition. It helps that, whilst we did quite a lot, not much of it was particularly earth-shattering. For example, we drove from Nashville to Memphis and Bridget turned 10,000 which was celebrated with choruses of Happy Birthday and For She’s A Jolly Good Fellow and a trio of hip-hip-hooray’s. It was fun if you were there but it hardly makes for Pulitzer Prize winning journalism. In similar vein (i.e. stuff that is dull to read about but entertained us immensely), we went Walking in Memphis (sing-a-long-a-blog) and found the largest dog run in Northern America, met Kate’s hair twin (a fellow carrot top), talked to a woman from Blackburn (just 20 miles from my home town) and Kate went on a crazy tough, muddy cross-country bike ride.

Are you still awake? Good, because now it gets a bit more interesting. Not a lot, but a bit. Kate’s Memphis research had unearthed a couple of drive-in movie theatres which has been an ambition since I was first exposed to Grease as a kid. The choice of films was pretty pap but we settled on watching Cadillac Records which got one thumb up for being vaguely Memphis related and another thumb up for not being Paul Blart, Mall Cop. To be fair, the film quality didn’t really matter (which is lucky as it was just OK) because the experience was awesome. From the huge screen to the corn-dog vending hut, tuning into the sound on our car radio, sneaking Molly in the back of the car and having to put the engine on every 10 minutes to stave off hypothermia…a really unique Americana experience. That said, we’ll probably chose Regal next time as my old man’s bladder can’t handle 2 ½ hours without going potty.

Tomorrow we’re donning matching polyester jumpsuits to visit Graceland before changing into something more sombre to see where MLK’s dream ended.

PS If you’re wondering where the descriptive food entries are today, breakfast was cereal, lunch was a sub and dinner was soup. Not every day can be cordon blue I guess…

Day 86 - Opry, Piggy & Country

Author – Grant
Based In – Nashville

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157613136224680/

I’m proud of us today because we did exactly what you are supposed to do in Nashville. Namely enjoy the nature, eat slow cooked pig, visit the Grand Ole Opry and then see some mighty fine live country music. Let’s break that down a little further.

First up we bashed out what we assumed would be a sprightly 4.5 mile walk with the four-legged one but the majority of the walk was either 45 degrees uphill or 45 degrees downhill and was conducted in sub zero temperatures. I always thought that Tennessee and it’s neighbouring states that make up The South (Georgia, Alabama, Louisiana, South Carolina etc) were dusty, hot, cactus-filled deserts that rarely strayed below 100 degrees day or night but clearly I am an ignoramus because they are green, lush wetlands that are highly susceptible to weather that you might more readily associate with the Outer Hebrides. Given the terrain and the conditions, we finished the walk completely exhausted and caked in mud but childishly proud of our achievement. Enjoy nature – check.

Such an achievement deserves a reward and, as always, we chose an edible one. Given the number of Christian stores, anti-liberal bumper stickers and churches we have seen, it is clear that worshiping god (the Christian god, not any of those other pretenders to the title belt) is the number one past-time but the number two spot would be a closely fought scrap between Country Music, NASCAR and eating Barbeque. Personally I think that NASCAR sucks (they don’t turn right…ever) and I’m pretty ignorant about Country Music but I knows my low & slow meat and I had been looking forward to tasting some in the place of its inception since I was out of nappies. A quick search brought up Famous Dave’s and we recognised the brand from several BBQ shows we had seen on TV as they have won over 200 awards in various competitions. Jenny, our bubbly waitress, brought us an amuse bouche of fat fries in order to try each of the five sauces which she had ingeniously written her name with. Kate liked the sweet first ‘N’ whilst I liked the slightly hotter, smoky second ‘N’. If we’d have known a plate of unordered fries were coming then we wouldn’t have ordered the buffalo shrimp which were exactly how you would expect them to be and did not a lot more than take the edge off my rampant hunger. But all of these bits were simply the inconsequential D-List warm up acts for the U2-esque entrees that were about to arrive. Ever the health conscious girl, Kate ordered a baked potato topped with beef brisket but two things were to transform this into a gazillion weight watchers points. Firstly the potato was the size of an American Football. Secondly, when asked “would you like cheese, bacon, sour cream or butter?”, she replied “yes”. I look forward to citing this during the divorce proceedings when I swap her for a thin one. I took a much lower moral highground and ordered a combo which included St Louis Ribs, Beef Brisket, corn on the cob, coleslaw, beans and a cornbread muffin. Quite rightly, the meat stole the show. The brisket fell apart like Tutankhamen’s exhumed loin cloth and the ribs had the perfect fat to meat ration (about 1 to 3) that kept them juicy as all hell and as tender as a teenager girl’s heart (metaphorically, I don’t condone eating human hearts…although…). I got four ribs and offered Kate one out of politeness but when she unexpectedly accepted and stripped an entire rib of its meaty jacket, I honestly felt like I had lost a limb. Eat slow cooked pig – check.

The Grand Ole Opry is the country music version of Wembley but it only has performances on Tuesdays and at the weekend. We’re are pretty miffed to be missing out on both The Killers (not that they are anything to do with country music) and the legendary walking fun-bags, Dolly Parton who are both playing this coming weekend but we have a semi-schedule that we had better stick to else it’s going to take us until we’re 60 to finish this trip. Still, it was good to have a gorp at the venue and tick that off of the list.

Whilst last night’s entertainment was a crawl around the bars of the fairly touristy District area of Nashville, tonight we headed 6 miles out of town to Bluebird Café. The place is famous for launching the careers of a whole host of stars including Faith Hill and Garth Brooks and it particularly attracts songwriters because of their strict ‘no cover songs’ rule. It’s a tiny venue with a capacity crowd of about 75 huddled around the performers who sit in a circle in the centre of the room like a public séance. Other than recognising one of the performers (Walt Aldridge) as the guy from the bar the previous evening who all the other performers were clambering over to shake the hand of, the rest of the names meant nothing to us so with open minds and open ears (but unfortunately not an open bar) the very informal show began. First up was singer / songwriter / pianist Deanna Bryant with the first of her “I’m over 50, divorced and I’m going to let you know about it” ditties. In fairness, they were all excellent and she has an “in principle” agreement from Willie Nelson to cut one of her songs which must be the holy grail for a country music songwriter. Next was singer Marla Cannon Goodman accompanied by a jolly guitarist whose name I didn’t catch. She seemed to have a famous dad and sister and be very well known locally which isn’t a surprise as she had an excellent voice. Next up, Walt Aldridge who, it quickly became apparent, was clearly a superstar with a bucket load of number one hits. His manner treaded either side of the “too good to be here” / “lovable rogue” throughout the night but there was no doubting his talent. Finally, Dave Berg who provided the highlight of the night for us by playing one of his songs which we actually knew. Turns out that time spent listening to country music radio stations for the past few days was well worth the effort. I can hopefully convey how mesmerised I was by the 2+ hour show by way of the following sentence. After being there about 45 minutes, our food arrived and I completely forgot that we had ordered it. That’s right, I FORGOT that I had ordered food. Having about 2lbs of piggy at lunch probably helped but nevertheless, this is a situation without precedent. A truly fantastic evening.

Off to Memphis tomorrow and I’m already dreading the car journey as Kate has been singing Marc Cohn’s “Walking Memphis” for at least a week…it’s still better than the Cher version though.

Day 85 – Going Country

Author – Kate
From – Atlanta, GA
To – Nashville, TN
Via - Chattanooga
Miles driven - 250

Today’s Photos – http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157613136070118/

Grant has started a couple of blogs with the line “if Kate was writing this blog blah blah” Well if Grant was writing this blog he would for sure spend the opening paragraph telling you that he was scared for his life during the 2 hours that I was driving (badly) in rain (torrential) from Atlanta to Chattanooga (choo choo) surrounded by trucks (18 wheelers). It was, in short, horrific. But Grant isn’t writing this so we can skip that and instead I can start by telling you about our hike.

Atlanta has a huge park system, sorry I realize that might be dull but we have gone a bit geeky keen about parks with hiking trails lately. So we picked out another 4 mile walk for the morning. This one was a lot busier than the prior days because the first half is paved and it wasn’t as picturesque at first but once we got off the main 2 mile path (where one super fit man had lapped us 3 times) we got to a nice trail that was a bit hilly but not too hard. It’s a really good feeling to get exercise out of the way in the morning and know that Molly had some fun too. I am always amazed at how many other people are out doing the same thing as us because it never even entered my head for the first 30 years of my life that being outdoorsy would be entertaining. Old and Geeky, that can’t be good.

The main excitement of the day was that we were heading to Nashville. As Ive already hinted I don’t want to go on about the drive too much but I should mention we stopped in Chattanooga on the way for lunch. The town didn’t look particularly special but that may have just been because of the rain. Lunch was a quick stop at Chilis which is a chain all over America but that oddly enough we know from our days living in Reading England where we use to go on date nights about 10 years ago – arhh bless. We went healthy and had soup with salads so it was nothing to write home about. After lunch the rain stopped and Grant took the helm so the remaining drive was a bit calmer. We passed a sign telling us we were crossing into the Central time zone and got really excited about having gained an hour, I think if we knew it was coming it would’ve been much less novel for us. The change caused confusion for us a couple of times that day as I changed the time on 80% of our clocks (they don’t call me half the job Kate for nothing) and we kept looking at the other 20% by mistake.

Once in Nashville things got cool pretty quickly in 2 respects. Firstly it was literally freezing and we weren’t quite prepared for the 30 degree drop from that morning. Secondly one of the first people we saw when we arrived in the home of country music was dressed in a fringed leather jacket and wearing cowboy boots and we love it when an American stereotype is true as much as the next man. We went for a quick run to offset the big food we were planning and then headed to the bright lights of Broadway for some beer, food and country music.


We were not disappointed once that night if you don’t count the food and creepy waiter. Im not the foody one so we can skip that too. Broadway in Nashville is lined with bars all of which have cracking country music bands playing and apparently almost all of the great country stars began their careers there. Every place that isn’t a bar is either a rib joint or a cowboy boot shop. We didn’t go into the cowboy boot places as I’ve wanted a pair for a while and don’t really trust myself to pull of the look so feel its best left. Instead we went to two of the bars that were busiest which were ‘Tootsies wild orchid’ and whatever the place next door is called (soz am not a details person either). Ten minutes into the first bar and we’d already bought a cd from the band as we are quite blatant tourist. Everything about it was great, the music, the long white beards, the cowboy boots, the Stetsons, even the coats which when there wasn’t head to toe denim were fringe leather or hunting outfits. Everyone in every bar seemed to know everyone and we spotted a couple of people that looked like they must be in the music business. One guy was having his hand shaken by every other person walking in and one girl was stunning and in quite an outfit so it wasn’t too much of a surprise that the next time we saw her she was on stage singing in the bar next door. The bars were lined with pictures of people who must be icons in this town but who we didn’t recognize. We got excited when we saw Dolly Parton, Willie Nelson and Kid Rock on the wall as it meant the mega icons still hangout here every now and again too. Country is on pretty often on mainstream radio here so we know (and like – yikes!)a few songs but Jolene by Dolly was the only one we knew that night. We belted it out with pride before heading home to the pooch.

Tomorrow : another hike and another music venue.

Day 84 - Tourist-Tastic Atlanta

Author – Grant
Based In – Atlanta
Money Given To Big Corporate Companies Who Probably Don’t Need It - $69

Today’s Photos – http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157613021673251/

You have two choices when faced with the problem of trying to get the best out of a city in a very small period of time. The first option is to try to get to know the real city by roaming around the bits that aren’t mentioned in the guide books, talk with the natives, eat and drink where the locals do and avoid anything with an entry fee. The second option is to open yourself up to the façade that the city’s tourism bureau wants you to see and visit their list of attractions, throwing as much money in their direction as is possible. Clearly the first option paints a more realistic picture of what a city is like but sometimes it’s fun, easier and less punishing on our fois gras livers to do the second option. So that’s what we did.

After a bracing and fairly challenging early morning four mile walk with Molly on one of Atlanta’s dozen or so excellent walking trails (although I’m still unsure how the burnt out shell of a car was half-way up a densely wooded slope), on went the almost matching North Face waterproof jackets (think Japanese couple on honeymoon) and central Atlanta beckoned. So far we have managed 9500 accident free miles (of which Kate should be given full credit for her 300 mile contribution) on this trip despite every season mother nature can throw at us and Bridget has remained blemish free. Until today, when I managed to scrape the side of her up a column in a parking lot. This reduction in resale value has just cemented my original wish that, when this trip is over, we can just drive her off a cliff. No one will ever love her as much as we do and the thought of her being sold as scrap is too painful. It’s what she would have wanted.

Time to begin the whistlestop tour of Atlanta’s biggest tourist attractions (minus the aquarium as we’re still fishy from Baltimore). First stop, CNN for a behind the scenes tour given by a guide who’s voice will narrate my nightmares until the day I die. After riding the largest free-standing escalator in the world (which is about as unimpressive as it sounds), the 55 minute tour begins with some insight into the magic of television including listening to the controllers orchestrate the live show which is seriously interesting. The highlight is watching the newsroom where the live footage is being filmed and beamed across North America at that very moment. Especially interesting is watching the anchorman when he is not on camera and we were lucky enough to witness the cliché moment of him checking himself out in a huge hand-mirror kept under his desk. The other awesome non-scheduled moment on the tour was the public arrest of a drunken hobo in the food court which caused quite a stir. As Kate pointed out, Breaking News unfurling before our very eyes.

Lunch was in the aforementioned, but now thankfully drunken hobo free, food court which provided a good opportunity for me to continue the American Fast Food Exploration Experiment. Chick Fil A (I’m assuming it’s a pun on fillet but I might be wrong) is a Georgian fast food brand that claims to have invented the chicken sandwich (think chicken burger for the UK readers) so it is kind of like being in the fried chicken in a bun version of Bethlehem. In order to ensure everlasting life in the afterworld (and probably to speed up my journey towards it), I went for the classic chicken sandwich which comes with waffle fries. I have to say, it was a mighty fine chicken sandwich that ticked all the boxes. The fillet was huge. Juicy yet meaty on the inside, crispy on the outside and came as naked as the day it was deep fried with absolutely nothing other than a couple of slices of gherkin. Chicken sandwich perfection from a fast food chain? I’ll try another dozen in the coming days and let you know for sure.

Next up was a visit to Coca-Cola World which is just down the road from where Mr Pemberton originally invented the tooth-dissolving beverage many crowns ago. The staff were predictably over-hyped and over-caffeinated but generally it was all good fun. More signs of getting old as we were both more interested in the funky memorabilia, marketing merchandise, international bottles and company history than the 4D theatre. The tour highlight for all ages was the hall containing a puke inducing 64 soda fountains with unlimited self-service access to various coca cola products from around the world. My favourite was a pineapple and coconut drink from South Africa whose name escapes me. Kate’s favourite? Diet Coke of course.

Final stop on the tour was a visit to the Martin Luther King Historic Site which is a sadly run-down and poor area of town in desperate need of some investment. The only two buildings that contain a full quota of windows and don’t look like they are about to turn to powder are the visitors centre (where we watched a short film about his life) and the new version of the Ebeneezer Baptist Church where MLK and his dad preached together in the mid 60’s. The visitors center also contained an exhibition which included the famous poor man’s cart that pulled his coffin through the streets of Atlanta which was a bit surreal. Within a five minute period we saw the house where he was born and the plot where he is now buried which fairly accurately portrays out whistle-stop tour. I’m glad we went but I also hope that someone pumps some money into the area as, ironically, it’s not a very good advert for a largely black area of a city that is generally considered to house the largest accumulation of black wealth in America.

The decision to dine at Bella’s Pizzeria that evening has to be the most random way to choose a restaurant ever. When we pulled into the parking lot of our hotel, we noticed a lone newscaster out the front as we happen to be based next to a Home Depot service center. Ten minutes later we saw the newscaster on our TV talking about the effects of Home Depot’s announcement to lay off a chunk of its workforce and the segment included interviews with various local businesses who might suffer because of the lay-offs. Included were our hotel, a cigar villa (a shop selling cigars and providing reclining chairs to smoke them in) and…Bella’s Pizzeria. I’d like to claim it solely a charitable act on our behalf that took us there to help out an ailing company but the truth is that I was licking my TV because the pizzas shown in the newscast looked so damn good. The place was the perfect blend of bar and pizza joint where Muggs, our very fat and very gay waiter / bartender / raconteur, served us up with ice cold beer and some of the largest portions of food I have ever seen. Seriously, it was like doing a guest appearance on Man vs Food. Kate had two whole peppers stuffed with meat ragu, half a pound of buttery bow-tie pasta and a handful of garlic knots. I had a meatball stromboli (like a calzone) with a house salad. They were both decent enough and certainly did the job but unfortunately the food left our bellies too full for any more beers. Having a double helping of The Office starting at 10pm on TBS had absolutely nothing to do with our early departure…honest.

We head to Nashville tomorrow and I’ve saved my t-shirt with the guitar on the front especially. Final thing is to wish Mrs. Martin a belated Happy 35th birthday. It seems almost spooky that we were at the wedding of her 30 year old daughter only last year…

Day 83 - Buff In Atlanta

Author – Buff
From – Valdosta, Georgia
To – Atlanta, Georgia
Miles Driven - 240

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157613021303275/

Kate and I will undoubtedly disagree on the highlight of Day 83. Kate would probably choose between feeling distinctly better than the previous day or a fantastic meal we had in the evening whilst my highlight was, without question, having the receptionist of our hotel point out where the gym is because I am clearly “a fitness guy”. When questioned on whether or not she was taking the piss, she insisted that I look buff. That’s right, buff. I could have hugged her but, with these guns, I was worried I might hurt her. It turns out that Georgia’s warm welcome is either based on dodgy eyesight or downright deceit.

Everything else that happened that day pales into insignificance but I guess I should recount it nevertheless. First thing in the morning it was tough to tell whether Kate still had the remnants of her migraine or if she was just sleepy but I thought I would leave her alone to sleep until check-out. Whilst this meant effectively missing out on the day in Atlanta which was still a five hour drive away, it did afford me the luxury of a) eating as much as I wanted from the deluxe buffet breakfast counter without snide comments or suggestive glances, b) reading a newspaper from cover to cover for the first time in way too long (an article that a high-school basketball coach had been fired for allowing his team to trounce another high-school 100-0 made me angry) and c) buying a pair of walking shoes to replace the pair lost to water damage on a ride in Orlando (I had a bit of an Imelda Marcos moment and walked out of the store with four pairs but I promise they were all very much needed). As I’ve said before, it’s exhausting being unemployed.

Nothing much to write home about on the journey up to Atlanta other than the miserable weather and the largest beef sandwich (not a euphemism) I have ever witnessed. In the ever-continuing American Fast Food Chain Exploration Experiment, today’s subject was Arby’s. For those unaware of this outlet, they advertise hot sandwiches. The house specialty is the hot roast beef sandwich so that’s what I ordered. Admittedly I had the large version but I wasn’t expecting the monster that was passed over the counter. I physically couldn’t get my enormous gob around it and had to remove a good handful of beef before dislocating my jaw to begin consumption. At less than $5 a pop, the meat isn’t exactly top grade but it’s tasty enough resembling doner kebab meat in both appearance and flavour. Without 10 pints inside me, it was OK. With a skinful, I’m assuming it would be heaven. Perhaps their strap-line should be, “I’m Drinking Arby’s”.

Having played the role of Angry White Man for the majority of the day, I thought it a good idea to give Kate a break from me for a while and go pound out my anger running the streets of Northern Atlanta. Now, everyone knows that San Francisco is full of steep hills but, as I found out ten metres into a 4.75 mile run, so is Atlanta. At times I thought my lungs were going to explode but I finished having swapped my anger for hunger. Time to eat. The website for my cooking school has a great resource that we haven’t taken enough advantage of – it’s a map of the US locating all the restaurants run by FCI alumni. Despite the co-owner of Repast looking like an over-serious serial killer on the web-site, we set off for the ten mile drive. Unfortunately, just one mile down the road, we passed a sushi place set in a discarded train carriage (I think this is the third discarded train carriage we have eaten in on this trip) called…wait for it…Orient Express. More importantly, it was mobbed so something good was happening inside. This meant we skipped the FCI alumni place but it also meant we missed potentially being killed by the chef. Orient Express turned out to be three restaurants under one roof (hibachi, sushi and Chinese cuisines) which is usually a bad sign as being good at one doesn’t automatically transfer to being good at the rest given they are completely separate cuisines and, despite what you’ve heard, they don’t all look alike. But, good news for us, the sushi part seemed to be run by bona fide Japanese…well, except for the Mexican lad who did nothing all night except spread rice onto dried seaweed papers. We took a seat up at the prep counter which meant we got the free show watching CJ and his pyjama’d buddy prepare their works of art all night. And what fine fodder it was. We started with some steamed, salted edamame (soybeans) and gyoza (pan fried dumplings) and then a selection of sushi rolls (spicy tuna with avocado, soft shelled crab spider and an atom bomb) and sashimi (yellow tail and scallop) which were, without exception, outstanding. And the presentation, as I hope the pictures convey, was stunning. I think they saw me taking photos and hammed it up a bit by adding vegetable carvings to everything but that’s just fine with me. Perhaps, going forward, I should tell people we’re food reviewers from the NY Times who are very open to edible bribes. My only minor gripe was that the yellow-tail was so cold that it lacked a little flavour but that was probably a result of our frighteningly short plate-to-belly time.

Tomorrow we get to explore Atlanta proper with an action-packed itinerary of hiking, touring CNN and Coca-Cola and checking out the Martin Luther King Historic Area. I was never that active when I had a job…

Day 82 - Headaches, Superbowl & Salad Dressings

Author – Grant
From – Sarasota, Florida
To – Valdosta, Georgia
Via – Tampa, Florida
Miles Driven - 284

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157612940417425/

Not good news today - Kate woke up with a headache. For a normal person that would mean popping a couple of Advil and getting the fluff on with it. For Kate it means a day of avoiding sun-light in a semi-coma state. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not calling her a lightweight (well, not this time) as clearly she is properly ill and I have no real comprehension of what a migraine is like. All I know is that I have several simple jobs throughout the day:

1) Redirect the sun never to be in her face. Driving 284 miles through Florida makes this a fairly tough task but I’ll give myself a B+ for my, often dangerous, high speed one handed sun-visor readjustments.

2) Hold her head every second she is awake. I am hopeless at this as it’s really boring. I know how selfish that sounds but doing it for 10 seconds just seems to make it worse when I stop so, I figure, don’t start. I get an F for this.

3) Don’t eat hot, “smelly” food in a confined space near her (e.g. car, hotel room etc) as this triggers projectile vomiting. As I don’t want to get puked on, I’m fairly good at obeying this rule. Tonight, for example, I had dinner (a microwaved bowl of soup…sometimes it really sucks not to have a kitchen) in the lobby of our hotel. The girl behind reception couldn’t work out if I was a hobo, a mad man or a combo of the two. Not my finest moment but I award myself an A+ grade for effort.

4) Ensure that, when the recovery begins, the “supplies” are ready. The list is always the same…crisps (ready salted), a banana, full-fat sprite, a fruity power/gatorade and skittles (the sweet it is impossible to order over the counter without sounding gay). Another A+ for me as every ingredient is waiting to be devoured.

My overall nursing grade is B-. Shows potential but could excel with more effort.

Shame she slept throughout today’s travel as the first hour was a stunning drive over the huge bridges spanning Tampa Bay. This wasn’t the original route but I wanted to have a gawp at the Raymond James football stadium which will be hosting Superbowl 17 million (or something) in exactly seven days. I think it is generally a bloke thing to feel the need to see stadia even if they aren’t currently in use but I drove away from Tampa thoroughly relishing next week’s encounter between the Cardinals and the Steelers. Theoretically we’ll be somewhere in Mississippi when it’s on but I’ll get a strange and probably unjust sense of pride when I see stadium on TV and will be able to say “I’ve been there”. However, presumably I’ll be trumped by Kate’s “I nearly puked on that”. So I detoured in search of one sporting venue but came across three. Unsurprisingly I passed Tropicana Field (Tampa Bay Devil Ray’s colossal indoor baseball stadium) but I also passed the huge New York Yankees summer training complex and, judging by the crowds milling around, they were in session. Which reminds me…just 2 ½ months until the season starts. That’s when this blog will become surprisingly baseball dominated as I want to see as many stadiums as possible.

This doesn’t quite fit in with any other part of today but it’s become a recurring theme recently. I ordered a salad today (that’s not the recurring theme; that will never be the recurring theme) and it came with enough dressing on the side to wash your feet in. Just check out the picture – there was at least 200ml of the gloop. I used about a third of one of the two pots and even then it felt a bit smothered. It has the dual unwanted effects of turning a relatively healthy meal into a lard-busting binge and completely masking the flavour of the salad components. Other salads we have got recently have come with sachets of vinaigrette that could easily double as dog pillows. It’s mental. I’m glad I’ve got that off my chest - this blog is saving me a fortune in therapy fees.

Nothing more of interest to report today. Another decent sized drive up to Atlanta tomorrow. Cross your fingers for a clear head for Kate…mainly because I wouldn’t mind a hand packing up the car in the morning…

Day 81 - Foot Soldiers

Author – Grant
Based In – Sarasota, Saratosa or SaraToga…Toga…Toga (depending on number of beers drunk), Florida

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157612940104655/

I used to categorise myself as a morning person. You know, one of those annoying people who jump out of the bed at the crack of dawn and that accuses people who wake up post 8am as not living life to the full potential. That trait, however, is clearly no longer in me as I wasn’t a happy camper when the alarm started bleating its melodious guitar riff at 6am. More disappointment was to follow as I realized, in chronological order, that the reason for the early rise was to do a 4 mile run, that it was still pitch black and that it was freezing cold. The temptation to hit “cancel”, roll over and safely assume that my coma-state running partner wouldn’t be naturally stirring any time before midday was immense but, instead, I started the morning ball rolling. Perhaps if we hadn’t already paid the $25 entry fee for the race then this blog entry would read very differently.

As the sun finally rose over the Sarasota, Saratosa or Saratoga bay and our eyes began to finally open, it became clear that this was a decent sized event with a crowd of about 2000 expected to run. The registration area was filled with a plethora of obscure pre-run entertainment including a bouncy castle, a cat adoption van and a petting pool just in case you needed to lick a toad for extra running energy. As the runners waited for the starting gun, the obligatory Star Spangled Banner was blasted out by some American sweetheart but this was an anthem with a difference. For a start, she was tone deaf so I can only assume she was a Sunshine Club kid with a deeply unimaginative last wish. So it was no surprise when the PA System went silent half was through her performance. The jury is out on whether a) it was a legitimate technical error, b) someone pulled the plug for the sake of musical pride or c) she dropped dead. Either way, the crowd was undeterred and finished the song off for her with the kind of rousing, patriotic spirit shown during the last 7 minutes of World War II. It was either awe-inspiring or stomach-churning depending on your nationality.

We have been regularly and comfortably running distances around four miles for the past few weeks so today’s race shouldn’t have been too much of a challenge. However, we sort of forgot to factor in that the Ringling Bridge, which we had to cross twice, would have a fairly nasty incline so a distance that would usually leave us energized, instead left us for dead. Having said that, we both walloped our estimated times (33.33 for me and just over 40 mins for Kate) which Kate attributes to race adrenalin and I attribute to the fear of her beating me. We may also have subconsciously been spurred on by the smell of hot-dogs as the post-race snack area (which usually consists of a bottle of water and an apple) was stocked up with sandwiches, hot dogs and mini-donuts. Needless to say I had a sandwich, a hot-dog and a couple of mini-donuts. Not many people can say they have run a race yet still had a positive calorie count by 8:30am…that takes real dedication.

Time to explore Sarasota. With puppy in tow we set off on the four mile walk into downtown and the bay. Exactly what we were thinking when setting off on an eight mile round trip walk after our already strenuous morning, I’m not sure. All I know is that with one mile of the return journey left, Kate was trying to flag down anything on wheels to give us a lift home. Not a wise move considering we were in the amusingly dubbed HoZone. As a local woman explained to us over lunch in a cracking little Tiki Bar on the beach, our shitty hotel (the ironically namely Quality Inn which is probably the nastiest hotel we have stayed in to date) is located in a zone where anyone with a prostitution related conviction (presumably on the customer side) is banned from visiting. I don’t really understand the logic of this move but apparently all it does is to advertise where the local pro’s hang out and hence it’s HoZone nickname. Another inspried local Government decision.

Ooo, I forgot to mention the park we stumbled upon that contained a full 18 hole frisbee golf course, complete with layout and par information at each tee. Some of the holes looked practically impossible as they were over 100 metres and flanked by trees that left a miserly 10 foot gap to get the disc down. But the most surprising thing was that the course was packed...and that most players either carried or wheeled round a full bag of frisbees of various sizes, weight and camber. I consider myself a sport lover but surely some sports aren't meant to be taken quite so seriously and Frisbee Golf must fall into this category. If it is accepted into the Olympics in my lifetime then I'm moving to Mars.

After all our exertions, the night was never going to be too adventurous so we decided on the tried and tested dinner and a movie formula. Food was courtesy of the locally recommended Mattison’s City Grille. Good quality, reasonably priced food was served alongside huge local beers in their casual outdoor setting (thankfully under heated lamps) and, for the second time that day, I could have happily sacked off our plans. My duck confit salad with dried cranberries, mixed greens and a sesame dressing was excellent (and officially classified as a salad hence I was fully justified schnarfing a box of Reece’s Pieces during the film) and Kate’s Fruits De Mer Pasta was just as good and choc-full of tasty ocean goodies. The film (Doubt) was also pretty good (really well acted but a tad shy on story or twists) but I‘m not a film critic so IMDB it.

Over the next couple of days we’re heading to Atlanta, Georgia so tomorrow will involve a big drive and a stay in some random south Georgian town. In summary, I wouldn’t bother reading tomorrow’s blog.