Reflections on the land of the free

Written June 14, 2007

As I looked out the window to see us bursting through the clouds and off U.S soil, I reflected on my experiences in a country that offered (offers?) such a promise for so many. About how it will go on without me. I had felt the same way as Sean, Ken, Lucy and I drove out of the Penn State grounds for the first time just a few weeks earlier. It's a funny thought; that a people and place you've grown to love does not rely on you for its life, that soon enough there will be a new wave of funny-talking foreigners to get to know, that someone else has probably now moved into your dorm room and met your friends. The last few weeks at Penn State were lots of fun; having finished with the seemingly endless assessment that appears to be the norm in this system, the weather drew people from hibernation and into the streets. Having bid farewell to friends, some of whom we are never likely never to see again, we hired our people-mover and set off for Niagara Falls, shortly after which we realised a map would be handy.

As I am deafened by calls from the streets of London (and who really has the time to keep notes on where they've been), my reflections on cities will be kept uncharacteristically brief (I hear you breathe a sigh of relief).

Reaching Nigara Falls after in the afternoon of the morning we left Penn State, we spent a few hours here, though almost didn't arrive. Convinced that the frightening-looking town on the U.S side was not all that it was cracked up to be (and where was all the water?), as crossed the border into Canada and were glad we did. The falls from this side were magnificent; hard to describe really.

The familiar clack of trams was a comforting introduction to Toronto; a city that appeared pretty and, with like Melbourne in its layout. An evening tasting (some would contend more than tasting) of gourmet beers infused with berries, peaches and other fruits that an amateur like myself was surprised to find rounded out the one evening we spent in Toronto, and we left for Montreal the next day.

Contrary to Toronto-ians advice about steering clear of Montreal-ers (they were sure not to even give us the time of day), Montreal-ers were as friendly and helpful as everyone else. It's just that they spoke French. Looking bemused, shaking your head or asking the question in english made them come to the conclusion that they were simply speaking too fast, so they continued to speak in French, but more slowly. The old city of Montreal was stunning; favourites were the name-escapes-me cathedral (see photos), eating at NOIR, and Habitat 67, a bizarre cubic housing project.

The parks and boulevards of these cities may have contributed to my sense that we were somewhere close to home (though, oddly enough, we were actually further away and surrounded by the French language). Perhaps it was also the more relaxed pictures of life, and less hectic ways of doing business. Somehow Canada seemed more like Australia than the U.S ever did.After a few days we headed to Boston, the city of 'tea party' fame where, though rainy for most of the time, us nerds indulged in the political history and John F Kennedy Presidential Library (which is well worth a visit if you happen to be in town).

We thought it best to dump the stolen State College van in Boston in case the authorities tracked it back to the Big Apple (relax Mum, I'm kidding), and so ended Sean's valient driving on an unfamiliar side of the road, and our hopelessly vague navigating, using MapQuest maps ingeniously printed at State level.

While I'd only spent a combined total of about two weeks in New York City throughout the semester, something about the chance it provided to escape small town life made me feel quite at home and attached. It was also the end of our journey as a group, and capped off with visits to the United Nations and the obligatory pilgrimages to 'the village'.

Once more a solo traveler, I braced and boarded the rickety Chinatown bus that managed to reduce the driving to Washington DC to a very comfortable four hours. I was expecting the city to embrace its reputation for embodying the divide between rich and poor, between lawmakers and law breakers, as a center of the broken American dream, but it did just the opposite. I must disclose that I did not visit the areas claimed to represent these dubiosities, but those that I did were pretty impressive. The Library of Congress was opulent, the Building Museum niche but satisfying for an arm-chair architect like myself, and the various monuments strangely peaceful (particularly given my ever so charming personal guide, a local political player whose eye I must have caught somewhere along the way; further elaboration on request). In a city where buildings are as big as city blocks, it's easy to feel dwarfed. Disappointingly, George didn't return the calls I placed for him, despite his PA's assurances to the contrary. Maybe he was unhappy about the size of his house, which was actually surprisingly modest. Next time.

From DC it was Chicago, to the made-over gangster's paradise with a cult-like appreciation of its mayor (whose name accompanied rubbish bins, brochures, actually anywhere the word Chicago is mentioned). Being met at the airport is a homely comfort for this young Aussie, and the hospitality and home-cooked meals given to me over my few days there were the warm pitstop I needed. Tis amazing how three degrees of separation can be bridged to turn friends of friends into friends over a weekend. The city itself seemed like New York City on a little less speed and a few more pleasent green interruptions.

In the true American tradition of the sublime to ridiculous, my next move was to the city where sin is 'in', Las Vegas Nevada. The bizarity of a mass of light bulbs and concrete bursting through an endless sandy desert needs to be seen to be believed. How we ever snatched a luxury room at a bargain price remained a mystery until we saw the seemingly endless wads of notes that guests peeled out of their pockets at every waking moment. For a novice and fairly uninterested gambler, it soon became apparent that the city simply wasn't interested in how little we paid for our room, how many complimentary drinks we were fed, or how much we ate at the crazily cheap buffets. Spending so little on the day-to-day's means, of course, that the traveler has thousands to splash around on the tables and machines. Needless to say Josh and I are not those kind of travelers, so we enjoyed the perks without remortgaging the house (I guess we'd have to have had a house to remortgage in the first place, though I'm sure Vegas would have found a way around it).

But truly, all the glitz and novelty was a lot of fun, as was witnessing the look on Madam's face when inspecting gold-encrusted soap dishes that she well knew we could never afford. We took comfort in knowing that we were not alone in this plight though, as a stroll outside revealed scores of others who would have had a hard time even being allowed to enter the store. The cleaners, porn-card distributors, and those conspicuously claiming the pennies thrown into marble wishing wells by previously well-healed gamblers hoping to turn their luck around were divided from their beneficiaries not only across (almost without exception) racial lines, but also in the dream their new home held out. The unfortunate bridge between these two realities was made all too clear when, only mildly dejected after losing the minimum bet (!) on the blackjack table, I inquired after the unusually long line at the 'cash' desk, to be told that today was 'pay day'. Apparently since people no longer had to go to the bank to cash their pay cheque, Friday was one of blackjack's best days.

With pockets only marginally lighter than when I arrived, the last few days of my U.S adventure were spent where they started, in Los Angeles. The grime and eccentricities that I had found noteworthy at the beginning of my journey were no longer; I had learned to deal with the in-your-face day to day, because I knew that behind it all, Americans offered an innocence and brashness that we can all learn a little bit from.