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Chapter Two

"Tea Parties, Taxes, Pawn-shops and Cradles"

LISTEN, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

                                                                                 Longfellow.

Paul Revere's Ride

Day 6 Saturday 2nd August 2008

We awoke refreshed in the morning and had our breakfast on the large expanse of dew-drenched lawn sitting at a wooden picnic-table. We repacked, loaded up the van, paid our bill and set off. We started by cutting across-country through obviously prosperous villages and small towns, like Scarsdale, until we reach the vicinity of Harrison where we crossed into Connecticut at Rye Brook a little bit to the east. It was at Rye Brook that I found a local mini-bus parked on the verge and waiting until the driver completed his 'phone call, confirmed with him our position and whether I was heading in the right direction. He kindly directed me onto the Merrit Parkway just a short distance ahead........

Connecticut - the State Line

.....from where we could link up with the Connecticut SH 15 which we were to follow all the way to the vicinity of Hartford. I was keen on passing through Wethersfield, a southern suburb of Hartford since it had a known Jewish community and I had discovered some time ago on a previous search, that Sophie Tucker had been buried there and I wanted to leave a memorial candle. The cemetery took quite some finding; we asked in the main sorting office of the local postal delivery service and although, surprisingly, they they couldn't help, a member of the public, in there on business, thought she knew of one and gave rough directions for getting to the vicinity. For a while, driving to and fro, it seemed we were not going to make it and then - when we had almost given up hope and had entered a CVS to buy some pain-killers for Elisabeth who had a bad headache - an almost casual, further enquiry elicited the information that there was a Jewish cemetery just about half a mile or so back along a road at an angle to the one we had just covered. So we returned and sure enough there, on the hillside corner of a traffic junction, were the open gates to a Jewish cemetery. The gates were open all right, but I suddenly realised it was Saturday and it should by rights have been closed and there was almost certain to be no one about to help with directions. Neither was there a visible map to show the lay-out and/or locations of graves - either "famous" or otherwise. Nevertheless, having got there, we drove in determined to do what we could to find Sophie's grave. We drove around (it seemed to be not a particularly large cemetery), and began to look at some of the gravestones in the farther reaches of the grounds but the selection of dates seemed rather too modern, so we tried another area. We spent about 20 minutes driving hither and thither not finding any group of dates running back to the 80's or so, and sadly decided that we had no more time to spare. So close to, and facing, what appeared to be the caretaker's home, near the entrance, I stopped the car and, shielding the flame as best I could, lit a memorial candle on some small stone steps hoping that the wind wouldn't blow it out. I left one of my cards with a "For Sophie" comment written on it. Our best, under the circumstances, having been done, we left the place and continued on our journey towards Boston. Making our way a mile or so east we rejoined SH 15, cutting off the south east corner of Hartford and then continuing on the I-84, then somewhat before Sturbridge we crossed into Massachussets.........

Massachusetts State Line

.....and at Sturbridge itself, in order to avoid toll roads, we joined the SR 20 and finally the SR 9 which took us all the way into Boston.
On the way, where Framingham has a commercial centre on the highway, we spotted an Italian restaurant - Bertucci's - and we decided we were due for a meal. We stopped, parked the car and went in. It was quite a nicely laid-out place with an enormous arched, brick grill area behind the counter. The meal we had - spaghetti - was mundane enough but what really endeared the place to us was the tapas they placed on our table as a sort of courtesy entrée dish - a simple but most delicious concoction of fine chipped or crushed fresh garlic swimming in olive oil, accompanied by garlic bread as a vehicle; we were both sorry when the last drop and crumb had been wiped off the plate. We were almost tempted to ask for more.....
The afternoon was progressing and although not late we thought it best to be on our way. As we reached the centre of Boston, a most terrific thunderstorm erupted - it was a magnificent display but I was glad I was safely esconced in a car. At that time, while driving up and down some rather fine-looking, broad, modern streets with office-type buildings on either side, trying to decide which way to go and where to start visiting Boston, I was hit with a sudden bout of tiredness and just had to pull off the road for a rest. I did so at what appeared to be a convention-type complex which was not operating at the time. The entire campus seemed to be vacant, deserted and "available" so I just pulled onto one of the approach streets, stopped the car, dropped the seat back and began to relax. I was certainly tired because I have no idea if I actually fell asleep, dozed or had not yet begun to do either, when a tap at the window showed an official of some sort standing outside in a deluge of pouring rain. I opened the window and he explained that it was not a permissible place to park, notwithstanding the circumstances, and I had better move. Reluctantly I did so and we drove to-and-fro for about five minutes considering what we should do and where we should go. The rain was still absolutely belting down which rather limited our options but we spotted a supermarket and thought that at least we can have a walk round there for a while until the weather moderated - if it did! I drew up as close as I could to the entrance for Elisabeth and then proceeded a few yards along the side alley and parked the car with the rest of the vehicles, sloshed back through about 2 inches of water into the store, saying humourously to anyone willing to listen :"Welcome to Boston!" Actually one or two people did hear me and giggled a bit. In about ten minutes, the sudden and violent storm abated and we walked out of the store. I asked a passer-by how to get to the historic places and he competently directed me back to where we had come from and then onwards round a few more corners and we found ourselves in the old quarter of Boston. The streets were indeed narrow but I got as far as the old town square where there were several historic houses and memorabilia - plaques, notices and such-like and stopped the car. Amazingly, I found a small spot alongside the curb - just enough room for the car and parked. I got out to take the few "essential" photographs and clips.........

Paul Revere's House  Paul Revere's House
Paul Revere's House  Paul Revere's House

.......including a general picture of the old square........
The square

It was still rather dull and cloudy and although still light, evening was coming on and not wishing a repeat of yesterday's problems, we thought to call it a day and look for our motel for the night. Fully believing we would continue our tour tomorrow and not therefore needing to leave Boston in any particular direction - and seeing as we were already on the northern edge of the town, we took the "easy way out" and just continued northwards feeling sure that we would soon come upon a suitable motel for our night's stay. We were, in fact, just beginning to get a wee bit desperate when we found a signpost for a Comfort Inn at Woburn. Whether we had been looking too hard, or not looking hard enough, it seemed to us that we were driving a fair distance until we found it (perhaps I was unconsciously looking for English names!). Even so, it was a little hidden once we got off the highway and I had to ask directions from a kindly police officer, interrupting his meal in the near-by diner. He redirected us just around the corner 100 yards away and up a tree-lined slope (no wonder it had been hidden from sight as we approached closer!), and there we found our refuge for the night - anyway, there we were and there we stayed.
I had done some homework on Boston beyond my own, casual general knowledge and was sure that the following morning we would spend some time - two or three hours, investigating some of the historic aspects of Boston - the "Underground Railway" the harbour, Bunker Hill and so on, just to name a few.

Day 7 Sunday 3rd August 2008

In the event, when we awoke the following morning, had breakfasted, exploited the laundry facilities of the establishment and started to drive south towards the city, the interest in doing those things seemed to wane considerably; I wonder whether it had anything to do with the somewhat noticeable change in climate, which was rather cool, or my spontaneous decision to cut the next leg of the journey to Niagara Falls, realizing that it was a considerable extension to our already crowded itinerary in terms of distance, time and money. Whatever the reason, by the time we got back to Boston the thought of continuing with our tour of the city just didn't appeal. Surprised at my own passive attitude to the idea and fully aware that we were missing a great opportunity besides not doing anything like justice to the City of Boston, we continued on our way. To this day I remain disappointed with myself and unable to explain fully why I made that decision. I can only hope that the future will allow me the opportunity of rectifying that mistake!

Once again, I found myself in difficulties trying to navigate a "global" route in an urban setting: essential signs and route markers were badly set, sometimes behind shrubs and bushes that had probably grown considerably through the years at urban street corners, where they were either not seen at all or when it was too late to take action; or local delivery trucks obscured the view with the same result. Be that as it may getting out of Boston was a pain and I found myself yet again travelling down roads for some distance trying to relocate myself. Eventually, of course I did but the constant repetition of the same type of problem recurring again and again with no hard-and-fast method of correcting it before the event is very frustrating - again - in modern urban settings it is almost impossible to stop anywhere in town to consult maps and readjust routes; you are compelled to see it through somehow until you find your way back on route.
Finding the SR 9 at last - and at a convenient position to finally exit Boston we began our journey west across the width of Massachusetts via the SR 9, the 20 and finally the 84 into Connecticut again and on to Hartford, proper. There we stopped at a pleasant bistro for lunch and driving round to pick up our route again we serendipitously found a statue of Nathan Hale......

I regret I have only one life to give for my country

From Hartford, we picked up the I-84 west and eventually crossed into New York just west of Danbury. At some point along the road, either before Hartford or later, we became aware that we had been traversing an aforested area of immense proportions and - having once become aware of it - we noticed that it just seemed to stretch onwards and ever onwards endlessly for the rest of the day.........

Welcome to New York

......in a different sort of way it was similar to the boredom (once the novelty had worn off), of when we had driven across from Tombstone to east Texas via New Mexico in 2004!

At the same time we were granted some magnificent views on those occasions when we had climbed a range of mountains and found ourselves facing the valleys ahead.
At Port Jervis we "....Crossed the Delaware" so to speak, into Pennsylvania but not in such a famous and historic setting at the one referred to in the quote!.....

Crossing the Delaware  Crossing the Delaware
Somewhere after Mt. Cobb the I-84 came to an end and we turned right onto the I-380 for about a mile and then left onto the I-81 just short of Scranton. Here we found our Comfort Inn for the night just short of the town at Twin Rocks. We were a little disappointed that they had no computer; we really should have bought ourselves a lap-top - mea culpa!

Day 8 Monday 4th August 2008

Morning activities as usual - getting up early, making myself a coffee and writing up yesterday's log, waiting for Elisabeth to rouse. Breakfast was pleasant in a nice room and we chatted with one or two other guests and staff.
We settled our bill, suggesting politely that a computer would be an excellent addition to their facilities at low cost and high prestige and convenience value for the guests (especially since the stablishment had an excellent standard in all other respects). The receptionists promised to bring the idea to the attention of the management. Continuing westward we entered Scranton for a brief look round and - again, serendipitously - found something worth taking note of (and a dim memory from geography lessons at school emerged from the murky recesses of my mind)....Scranton must at one time have been one of the centres of Pennsylvania's coal-mining activities and also, perhaps associated with that - a large railway depot, for we chanced upon an open air museum displaying some of America's monster steam locomotives; we just made a drive round the yard and photographed a few of them.......

Locomotives  Locomotives

.....and then we were on our way again - first on the I-81 until we hit the westbound I-80 and joined that one. From then on, until we got to Pittsburgh, the road seemed endless compared to other days - although a relatively shorter hop than they had been - only about 270-300 miles (not exactly a hop-skip-and-jump, but not too excessive either!). There were beautiful views again of valleys seen from mountain ridges 1200ft AMSL. These were the various eastern ridges of the extensive Appalachian system
We stopped several times at rest areas - once at a site near New Columbia which seemed particularly attractive to us.....

New Columbia - Rest Area

We continued on until we reached Brooksville and there we turned south onto the SR-28 for Pittsburgh. It was quite a rural road and we were consequently slowed up a bit but that only increased our enjoyment of the countryside. Eventually we reached Pittsburgh Mills - just to the north-east of Pittsburgh and began looking for our overnight stop. The first place we found - Spring Hill Suites seemed more like a luxurious service apartment than a motel but Elisabeth went in and made enquiries and then began a brief sequence of events that left quite a bad taste in our mouths: At first the receptionist, an early middle-aged lady, seemed quite helpful and offered a room but at a price that seemed rather high compared to what we were accustomed to, so we politely suggested to her that we try elsewhere first. She was quite amenable to what was, after all, a perfectly normal and routine situation and we left. We drove around a bit continuing south west on the highway and after about 2 miles came to an intersection with a Holiday Inn Express over on the left of the intersection on a rise. We were reminiscent of our Holiday Inn Express experience last year in Atlanta and since then rather hesitant about taking another chance so, not having found anything else in that particular direction, we decided to return to the Spring Hill Suites. While Elisabeth went inside to make the arrangements, I confidently began to unload our bags when I saw her gesticulating to me through the glass doors. I went in and found her a little upset because the lady told her that there had been an error and in fact there were no rooms available. We both found this awfully strange and it left us feeling somewhat under a cloud. However, the receptionist did "redeem" herself by telephoning around and making contact with a Holiday Inn Express that we assumed was the same one we had recently seen and had rejected from a distance. She handed me the phone and the voice at the other end told me that it was her last remaining room, so I said to please hold it and we would be along in five minutes or so.
We left and drove back down the highway to the intersection and across the bridge to the parking lot of the motel. It was a lovely place and the staff were wonderful - but it turned out it was NOT the one we had spoken with. No matter, we booked in and settled in for the night. Of course as is more often than not the case there was no restaurant for dinner but the motel operated a shuttle service to a near-by recommended restaurant called the Atria at 1734 Freeport Road - just a short drive away. It was getting on a bit and we were further disturbed when we learned that the shuttle driver went off duty at 22:00; it was now about 20:30 - leaving us only about 90 minutes to shower, dress, go and eat - all before 22:00. We had an excellent meal - the interior of the restaurant was very elegant - a high-ceilinged room with mirrors, all nicely furnished and laid out. Our waitress was a Chinese girl who was most delightful. However we were genuinely pushed for time and although we both tried to remain calm, we did need to impress upon her (no fault of hers, of course!), what the situation was. In the event, we only just made it and I telephoned the shuttle at about 3-4 minutes before the deadline and while we were still finishing our meal, allowing the extra few minutes for us to finish and pay. We went back to the motel.
I tried to download some files on the guest computer but apparently there were certain missing files and I was unable to get Pete Zapadka's telephone number. When I queried this with the reception desk, they acknowledged the problem and offered the use of the office computer which I thought was exceptionally considerate of them - and told them so! (Pete Zapadka is my e-mail corresponding friend whom I met on-line while researching the Mason-Dixon Line, knowing I would be crossing it. It turned out he is one of the real specialists on the subject and we promised each other to meet when I reached Pittsburgh). I printed out the necessary information - a route to Pete's office and his telephone number - and we went to bed.

Day 9 Tuesday 5th August 2008

This morning, as my custom has now developed while travelling, I showered, dressed, made coffee in the room and sneaked out with it to the computer in the lobby. The first thing I noticed was that there was a reply to a letter I had written to Samsung; when I tried to write a text message, the individual letters would not respond to the keys in many cases - more often than not - one key action would produce a series of letters. This was most disconcerting and we could find no menu option to restore normal settings so I wrote to Samsung. Their reply gave me directions on how to act and the phone that Michael presented to me in London in May, is now 100% active!
Elisabeth soon awoke and when she was ready we went for breakfast discovering that it was not included in the room pricing but it was an excellent breakfast, nevertheless. We thanked the motel reception staff for their excellent service and filled out the motel "feedback" form accordingly. In the meantime, since getting up, I had been looking for the hand-written original of this journal which I was sure had slipped down beside the driver's seat (since I couldn't find it with the items we brought in with us last night), but it was not there. I was getting really worried and upset about it after all there was no way I could possibly recall in detail all that has already been written. I had even tried phoning Twin Rocks to see if I had left it there the previous night's stay but my phone card ran out in the middle of the conversation. We were already outside and loading up when - out of desperation - I returned to the desk and asked if by chance it had been left lying around and lo, and behold!! the shuttle driver had walked along the hallway that morning near the telephones and had seen the copy-book lying there and handed it in to reception. Apparently it had been in my hand early in the morning when I had intended to write up yesterday's events and had laid it there while looking up a phone number, forgotten it and simply walked away leaving it there. What a stroke of luck! Thanking everyone again most profusely we were on our way.
We reached Pittsburgh proper and ran right into a road-works scheme that was creating absolute havoc, right along the route, we, as strangers, were compelled to take, not having the local knowledge to seek out alternatives. It was reminiscent of what had happened in New York when we left Randy and Dede at the hotel and started to drive back up town and I got stuck in a similar traffic jam on the riverside. It was a real nightmare crawl taking at least half an hour just to move about a quarter of a mile. When we did get to the Boulevard of the Allies (the address of The Pittsburgh Post Gazette where Pete is an editor), we discovered we were right at the eastern end of the street whereas the offices were at the western end, so I had to devize a route to get back without getting tangled up again with the road works. Purely by good luck we made quite a good job of it, even seeing just a little bit of the central area and when I did make a purely chance right-hand turn, we found ourselves well down the correct end of Boulevard of the Allies itself, literally only 150-200 yards from our destination.
Still not having been able to find a T-mobile card for the phone, I used our Israeli one to phone Pete's office. He recognized my name instantly and immediately came down to chat with us for a few minutes. I liked him a lot; his enthusiasm for his chosen topic - the Mason-Dixon Line - was infectious and he understood completely my own interest in recording my own visit to the area. He is such a genial guy, big and bluff and burly with a well-trimmed beard. He was so pleased to see us and excited about the wonders of modern technology that enabled us to "meet" while thousands of miles apart and then just a week or two later have me land "on his doorstep" - (literally!). We chatted for a few minutes with Pete giving me some local lore and explaining to me that we were in the region where the Native Americans had eventually prohibited Mason and Dixon from continuing their survey westwards and that place therefore marked the end of the Mason-Dixon Line. He also gave us directions how to proceed out of town southwards; we were literally "just round the corner" from the city exits - he could actually point out the area from where we were standing - and it should have been a piece of cake. After a few minutes of congenial conversation, it was necessary for Pete to return to his daily tasks and apologising for being unable to show us around the Mason-Dixon Line, we parted from him and went our separate ways....

Just around the corner, we crossed the Monongahela River on Fort Pitt Bridge, near its confluence with the Ohio and Allegheny and then had to follow yet more diversions because of additional road works. And yet again a truck obscured our vision at a critical traffic intersection and we were over the junction and well down a main street of sorts before we realized that we were on a wrong route number and instead of going through the tunnel as Pete had directed, had swung right onto the riverside drive.
Somewhere just a few miles down the road, we saw what we thought would be a good place for lunch - a fried chicken eating place. While not KFC the food nevertheless looked "good enough to eat" - it was a mistake! When we sat down to eat, we discovered that it was absolutely super-saturated with oil. We tried our best to eat as much as possible and left the rest; It was quite the worst meal either of us can ever remember eating on the road.
Still struggling to fight my way back onto my desired route, I took the I-51 as far as Uniontown. There I had a good look at the map and decided to continue on the SR-119 which seemed quite a reasonable alternative. Some way down the road, before reaching the vicinity of Morgan Town we crossed the State Line into West Virginia....AND the Mason-Dixon line, with echoes of Al Jolson's "Rockabye" playing in the background of my head.

Welcome to West Virginia  ....jess hang that cradle, Mammy mine, right on that Mason-Dixon line...

The entire journey from the West Virginia line, southwards was one long orgy of natural beauty. Fortunately we were not on one of the major interstates or we would surely have missed out on such a glorious journey. At Philippi, we stopped just short of the town for a brief rest and to buy a bottle of water, discovering that the town is accredited with being the site of the first notable land engagement in the Civil War. We also learned that the founder of Mother's Day, Anna Jarvis, came from close by as did several other notables of American social and spiritual life - writers of hymns and religious tracts, etc. We then continued onwards. It was forced upon me more and more as we proceeded just how impossible it is to pay attention to all the historical elements along the way - whether human, historical or topographical. There just isn't the time. The most we could do was glance at a roadside plaque, take note of the information placed upon it, give it some thought and attention and move on, knowing the whole time that the details would inevitably get forgotten in a short while......
Added to the pleasure was that I just happened to turn on the car radio - something I do not habitually do when driving - and we picked up a local station playing real genuine "first generation" country music, with recordings from the 30's, I'm sure, introduced by someone who acknowledged himself to be "...as old as dirt". The authenticity together with the awareness that we were in the "right place at the right time" locality, had us both in stitches of laughter and tears of pure pleasure!.....

.....We continued on as far as Buckhannon and began to think about stopping for the day. We looked at one or two places but although the price was OK - perhaps even a little bit too cheap - the atmosphere was rather old and out of date - they had no computers available so we thought we'd continue on a little bit. The nearest likely place seemed to be Elkins. The I-79 and the SR-19, both of which were southbound, nevertheless seemed to me to be veering too far westward for us - and the I-79 ended at Charleston in any case, whereas Roanoke seemed a good place to jump off for North Carolina. So we left the SR-19 a little south of Buckhannon and turned east on the SR-33 to Elkins. Here, on the main street through town we found our Day's Inn for the night; still no computer - but we'd had enough for one day........

Day 10 Wednesday 6th August 2008

I awoke this morning a little later than usual but still far too early for Elisabeth, so being as quiet as I could I showered and dressed, made my coffee and - there being no computer available for the second or third day - sat by the window writing up yesterday's journey by the strengthening daylight coming through the window.
When Elisabeth awoke and had prepared herself, we went downstairs to the small breakfast room. Our first stop when leaving was right next door to the filling station, then as I left the forecourt, I decided to confirm the direction I needed to turn to retrace our route to the SR-33 (I felt I was so tired last night that perhaps I hadn't recalled correctly) so drove directly across the street to a motor spares shop where I could confirm it. This we did and then continued on eastwards. Somewhere down the road, we thought it was time for a short break and we stopped at a likely place where a great cliff-like rock rose up to a considerable height - Seneca Rock it was called and apparently is quite a centre for rock climbing and instruction; there were also one or two nice buildings in the village as well....

The Seneca Rock crag  Seneca Rock Village

We kept going until we reached Franklin where we joined the SR-220 south which would take us all the way to Roanoke. Some few miles down the road we crossed the Viginia State line.......

Welcome to Virginia  Welcome to Virginia

We had entered into an area of countryside that was inexpressibly beautiful, putting everything we had seen so far in the shade; hills, forest, mountains and valleys, criss-crossed by inumerable streams; the Jackson River kept us company for quite a while, first on one side of the road and then on the other; I forgot how many times we crossed it. The sum-total was pure paradise for the eyes for mile after mile - moreover we chanced upon items of great interest.....all part of the wonderful Appalachian scenery.
Of a sudden, I saw a sign which awoke memories (albeit mistaken ones!); "Warm Springs", it said, and a little later "Hot Springs". I was convinced at the time that these were the resorts so often referred to in biographies and documentaries on the life of FDR and that it was here that he spent his last years easing the discomfort of the many illnesses that troubled him. But more was to come! Just a few hundred yards before entering Hot Springs, we saw on the left, half-way up the hillside, half-hidden among the trees a most stunning building in red brick........

The Homestead

.... This, too, awoke memories which again were misplaced but strengthened my belief that there was a connection with FDR: in my memory, I recalled a programme on the History channel that had described a building that had been especially built somewhere "out in the wilds" with a vast underground complex which was to be used in times of national emergency as a retreat for the Government from which they could continue to administer the Government of the country. I was so convinced of this that we entered the main street of Hot Springs to see if we could find something out about the building and its associations. We found a small office - the local Chamber of Commerce - and I went in to ask. They told me that this was The Homestead - a famous country retreat that had been frequented in the past by so many notables that to list them would be an endless task but the story begins with associations with George Washington who was first in the area reconnoitering - and continued on from there down to the present day. They could not confirm the connection with FDR and I later discovered that FDR's "Hot Springs" were in Georgia, not Virginia! They told us that the lobby was worth visiting.....
However - as I began to walk out of the office, I began to recall another History (or Biography) Channel offering, and that one covered the most famous and striking hotels of the world - and perhaps that was the programme that I had seen. The more I thought about it, the stronger became the sense of remembrance. We drove the short distance to the entrance, parked the car and asked permission from the commissionaires to view the lobby. We walked in and were confronted by this magnificent hallway, about 200 feet long with a row of Corinthian columns down either side. We examined some of the side-rooms - the George Washington library, for instance, where a brief history of the building and its associations explained much, and a shopping arcade. There were also many photographs and memorabilia af the many celebrities, from all walks of life, who have stayed here up to and including the present - Nixon, Reagan, Gene Tunney, Van Johnson and so on - the list is virtually endless. It was 40 or 50 minutes well-spent and we got to see a really unique establishment deep in the heart of the Virginia country-side - well worth the diversion - if diversion it was......

......We continued down the SR 220 to Roanoke, the State capital, which proved to be a great disappointment. Whether we had hit town in an unfortunate quarter or not, I cannot say; it was sign-posted as being "down-town" and some of the buildings and institutions did give that sort of an impression but so far as visitors are concerned it was a real wash-out. For one - we didn't find any normal place to eat, consistent with what we have found in all our travels - certainly in an urban setting - and the parking system simply defied understanding; quite willing to pay for the privilege we found it incomprehensible! After a short walk round the central area we just gave up in frustration and drove on.....

We continued south to - and through - Martinsville and began thinking about our over-night. But I was rather keen to cross the State line into North Carolina. This we managed to do and at the first opportunity - at Greensboro - we found a Quality Inn, the first time on our three journeys we have stopped at one. It was great - the price was right, they had a guest computer and the staff were most helpful and pleasant and we settled in for the night. I collapsed on one of the beds and drifted off for an hour or two before joining Elisabeth in the other bed, not expecting to sleep much - but I did. End of another day......

Day 11 Thursday 7th August 2008

The day began, as usual, with me sneaking out of the room with my coffee, without disturbing Elisabeth and walking down the hallway to the lobby where I found the computer unoccupied. This computer was updated with the requisite files and I was able to download whatever files I thought I needed.
When Elisabeth joined me, we went together into the breakfast room where someone fortuitously made a comment about it being a nice day! Getting a cue like that was heaven-sent and saying - "well what do you expect - this is Carolina," I broke into full song:- "Nuthin' could be fina, than ter be in Carolina, in the mor-or-ornin'" - and completed the chorus! It went down very well...............and made my day!

When we were ready, we went to check out and the receptionist asked us where we were heading and when she heard that after visiting in Charlotte we would be returning in a few days to DC, she offered to book ahead for us. This she did to our satisfaction taking a big load off our minds because we needed to be sure of our early-morning appointment at the Capitol on the 12th. And then we were on our way.....
Our day was not going to be a long one in terms of distance because Charlotte was only 80 miles down the I-85. On the way, Elisabeth called her old friend Evelyn, whom she hadn't seen since her teens in Morocco where Evelyn was part of the same American establishment as her and Elisabeth's first husbands, Evelyn's parents being military personnel. At first Evelyn didn't answer her phone and Elisabeth left messages. It transpired that after we had gone some little way towards Charlotte, we actually passed her town - Highpoint; I had seen the sign but at the time didn't yet know that she lived there. Eventually they managed to connect with each other and had a brief excited conversation and made arrangements for Evelyn and her husband to come and visit Elisabeth in Charlotte tomorrow afternoon.
A short while later, we drove into Charlotte and I began to look for a likely place to leave the interstate. Without knowing exactly where to do so, I blindly took one of the exits, drove north of the highway and began to look for any kind of municipal or other established institution that might be able to direct us. After about a mile, I found a youth-club and after a thorough search of the street guide, a young lady in the office gave quite good directions to get us to the immediate locality, way down the Billy Graham Parkway. We found our way to Sharon Road with virtually no trouble at all, but finding Crowder Court - a very small, hidden-away little street in the back of an estate proved just a little bit more difficult - we had to ask a few people including the local postal-delivery man who just happened to stop near us. He sent us just a few hundred yards down the road and from there we found it without too much additional headache.
Kika welcomed us very warmly and made us feel most welcome in her exquisite, almost Georgian-like town-house home........

Crowder Court

.....She prepared a sandwich snack which was very welcome and she and Elisabeth entered into an animated conversation exchanging reminiscences and updating each other, looking at family photographs, etc. Then we went to the local mall - Kika to buy some needed supplies, I to get some mini-DV cassettes for the Panasonic, a new, bigger memory card for the Canon and some CD's to download accumulated photos. While we were there we came across an Ahava stand along the concourse and - sure enough the girl was Israeli and we enjoyed a few minutes chat with her.
Back home Kika began to prepare a dinner of braised chicken and rice, while I did a bit of computer-work. After dinner and a shower and shave, I dropped off to sleep on the settee until it was time to go to bed.
We now have a pause in our travels for 3 or 4 days enjoying Kika's generous and warm hospitality. Our stay with Kika is described in the next chapter which is.........

Chapter 3 - Mornin' Glories.......
......and is to be found  Here

This link will take you to my other, main web site Holy Land Tours

.....this one to our first journey - American Odyssey....

and our this to our second - America Revisited.