Tag Archives: around the world in 2014

On the Road by Jack Kerouac

On the Road by Jack Kerouac

Maternity leave has given me more time to read, so I’ve picked up a couple of Big Read books. Neither of them are #90 On the Road by Jack Kerouac, but I realised I never posted the review I wrote of that book. Here it is, almost exactly a year late.

On the Road on the rails
I’ve just finished On the Road, which I’ve read, appropriately enough, while riding the rails on a long train journey from Nha Trang to Ho Chi Minh City. On the Road is the tale of a wandering life as the main character, Sal, travels fairly aimlessly around the USA, in the company of other drifters. It’s fairly well understood that the book is broadly autobiographical fiction.

In our epic trip across and around the USA this summer we visited quite a lot of the places Sal goes to, including San Francisco, LA, San Antonio and a couple other places I don’t this moment recall.

Booze and bad parenting
The book does not do it for me. It’s written on a high, in a lovely drugged-out haze, and as you go through you can see all the damage that these mad bad men are doing as they go. There’s a scene where Sal and Dean punch a door together, and Sal breaks a bone in his hand. He’s so drunk he doesn’t notice until the morning. That’s what the book is. Throughout the book, people get married, have kids, cart these kids around to squats and tents, don’t feed them much and take a lot of drugs in front of them. The stated assumption is that the kids don’t mind. What Kerouac can’t seem to see is that his generation, mourning their own lost fathers, are the missing and deadbeat dads of tomorrow. Of today, in fact, as even as they look for their own lost paternal role models they are squandering the chance to provide what they’ve lost for their own kids.

The book is very much a man’s story and women only play a peripheral role in it. Each of the main characters gets entangled with various women over the course of the book. It’s written as entanglement, women making demands and needing to be managed, but it’s easy to read as a con. It’s as though they’re mountain climbers. The man is leading, and if he cuts the rope that binds the group, he can walk on more easily. The woman is more firmly tethered to the children, and is well aware that if he goes the rest of the party is likely to go over the cliff. Kerouac’s characters cut the rope without, it seems, realizing they’re doing any such thing at all.

The wit of wine
Sal (and Kerouac) find a romantic charm in the ravings of drunks and potheads. I really cannot be bothered. I feel like I’ve met these men, and I don’t respect them. They look very different when you’re one of their targets (or not a target, being excluded due to age or lack of beauty or…) than when you’re one of their buddies. As a buddy, they’re mad fun. They keep you out late. You drink too much, then go to work in the morning hungover and happy.

On the other side of the fence, you can see the lies. You can see how they’ll say anything, do anything to get a girl they fancy into bed – do anything, almost, apart from give her respect. Respect, as Aretha Franklin pointed out, is important.

And that’s without getting started on his comments about 9, 11, 13 and 15 year old girls, which need their own content warning, frankly.

Why read it then?
There are two strengths to the book, in my mind. First, it rips apart the staid and sober notion of the 1940s was only a time of war related privations and jitterbugging parties. There are no poodle skirts and duck tail hair cuts. The guys are roving the USA broke, ragged, drunk and stoned; there is a lot of pot in this book.

Second, Kerouac does have an engaging, intense, frantic way of describing the places characters go. It’s like a drunken celebration, where someone is telling you that he’s so, so happy that he got a great job, and he only had a couple of drinks, and did he mention that he’s having a baby soon, too, so it’s perfect timing and the sky is so beautiful tonight and birds always sing louder in summer and…

Don’t travel to the beat of this drum
This is clearly a book that launched a thousand trips, and that’s both understandable and a crying shame. It’s the worst book in the world to try to travel to. It describes times and places that only existed – if they existed at all – for a few people for a few moments. And even if you could manage to stomach all the drugs and alcohol, and went a year later (or had a time machine and went the same year) you’d never capture quite the same spirit.

The book skips over the weeks and months of working quietly and making money (although they are there, if you look), creating a picture of an endless party that you just can’t match in real life, although thousands have wrecked Ibiza trying… In a way, this is the Pinterest problem 60 years early: a view of a life that’s so carefully edited reality can only disappoint. There’s also a clear line of descent from here to The Beach, both in a literary sense and in terms of travel choices. A bit of backpacker history while we’re on the go, it’s interesting but distasteful at the same time.

I’ve decided to try to read and review all 200 books on the BBC Big Read list. You can read more about the start of the project or see a list of all the books I’ve read and reviewed.

150 days on the road

150 days on the road

Denpasar monument usToday is our 150th day on the road, and we have exactly 30 left. We’ll be back in the UK on 2 November (late) after a round 180 days away. We didn’t plan it like that – our main goal was to get back before my birthday which is also when our travel insurance runs out.

Anyway, this week, we’re in Kuta, the backpacker / surfer / clubber capital of Bali, Indonesia. It’s like staying in a bar, honestly, but one with a great beach. And tiny sea turtles.

We went into Denpasar today, using the entertaining local bus service. It’s not so much a bus service as random minibus drivers who are probably going in the direction they say they are. It’s like hitchhiking but (a) you pay for it (pence!) and (b) the bus is full of school kids and grandmothers and market produce.

To celebrate 150 days on the road, a few bits of trivia about our trip:

  • Indonesia is our 9th country
  • Denpasar is our 33rd city
  • Our shortest stop was 28 hours in Singapore (we’re going back, though)
  • Our longest stop was 6 weeks in the US (it’s a little bigger than Singapore)
  • Our longest time in one place was 18 nights in Nha Trang, Vietnam (which was nice but kind of dull)
  • We’ve travelled on 14 planes, 9 trains, 3 ferries, 1 campervan and an uncountable number of taxis, cars, buses and metros.

We’re spending this last month travelling from Bali to Bangkok, mostly overland. As it’s quite on-the-go, the-journey-is-the-trip sort of travel it feels like we’re heading home already. I feel like the apex of our trip, the point we were working towards was seeing family in Oz. After Melbourne, we were definitely on the return leg of the trip.

Home sweet home-away-from-home

Home sweet home-away-from-home

I started this blog post a couple of days after we arrived in New Zealand. Here’s how far I got in the last almost 3 weeks:

We’re in New Zealand and it is BRILLIANT. Really, it is ALL CAPS good.

It turns out that if you’re staying in a campervan (we are!) driving around a lot (we are!) and freedom camping (cheap and legal, hurray NZ) you don’t get much online time. Sorry guys! I have lots of thoughts I want to share about this part of the trip, but in the interests of posting at all before we leave, I’ll hang fire. Instead, here are 6 pictures that show some of the things I love about this part of our trip.

1. The van

White campervan under a rainbow

I’m not going to pretend it’s perfect, but it’s great to be back on wheels again. I was really stoked to try campervan life, after the caravan (trailer, for the Americans). It’s been a brilliant way to get about and has meant we could afford food and petrol (not much else though, first world prices are a bit of a shock after Vietnam).

2. The beaches

Long sandy beach with islands in the distance, sun and clouds in the sky

Even I’m not quite mad enough to swim when the air is below 10C and I’ve no hot shower (otherwise, sure, obvs), but they are thrillingly gorgeous. And everywhere.

3. Doing random stuff with K

K and I in front of a sign that says welcome to cambridge town centre

It’s a little hard to explain to other people (sane, rational people with jobs and mortgages and whatnot) why we’re on this trip, or why we’re going so far out of our way to do a particular thing. The only real answer is ‘because we want to’. We’re having a lot of fun, even if it seems a bit mad!

4. Geography

Sun is behind a mountain with hot spring steam in the foreground

This one’s a bit of a cheat because there’s a sunset and a volcano and a hot spring and a public park in there. Anyway, I’m enjoying all the geography they’ve got here!

5. Skiing

Ski slopes in the foreground with a brown and green valley and distant peaks

Skiing in August! The snow was good and I was enormously entertained by the piste names. We skiied ‘The M1′ and ‘Ego Alley’ and ‘Greengates’ among others. Oh, and you know those bits of just-off-the-piste that everyone skis? Yeah, here they name them and stick a black diamond on them. Random.

6. Bird watching

A black bird perched on a beige cliff face

I know, I know: it’s not a penguin or a kiwi. (We did see penguins. I’ll let K tell you about those since he’s still hugely excited by them!) I’m really enjoying all the wild birds we’ve seen around. I know that New Zealand is famous for ‘drab, ground dwelling and dull’ birds but we’ve seen lots of really fun ones. One fantail followed us half way home, and a green one gave us a full concert clearly inspired by a fax-modem combo! It’s bizarre to look at the rest of the wildlife (bats are the only indigenous mammals, e.g.) & plants and realise just how much of an impact humans have had in the last 200 years. More on that another time – the library closes soon!

Discovering the benefits of boredom in Nha Trang, Vietnam

Discovering the benefits of boredom in Nha Trang, Vietnam

If I say ‘tropical paradise’ do you have a clear picture in mind? I do. It’s the one where I’m lying in a hammock, shaded by palm trees with a cold drink in one hand, eyes resting on a white sand beach or drifting the clear blue waters that stretch to the horizon. Everything is quiet and serene. After 3 weeks (or 3 minutes, depending on your temperament) you might well get bored of the perfection.

Nha Trang isn’t like that.

It’s got a lot of the right elements (beach, palm trees, blue waters) but it’s a much more industrial kind of seaside. It’s like the well-established UK or Mediterranean holiday resorts. A grubby, going up or going down one without the gloss, chain stores and health-and-safety regulations of the big places. I’ve been thinking of it as Torquay in the Tropics.

Roofs and a big hotel against Vietnamese mountains

The hotels are all big, or at least tall. Ours is 8 stories, and we’re on the 7th which is why we’ve got such great views over the technical college (which has ostriches, for some reason), the local sports centre and the apartment block in front. But we can see the sea, and from this height you can’t see all the rubbish on the beach or the rubble on the pavement (better than it being on the road, I suppose).

We decided that we wanted a break from rushing around, a little bit of luxury and to try scuba. With unrest in the Philippines and Indonesia when we were booking, Nha Trang seemed like a good choice.

It kind of wasn’t.

I feel bad every time I suggest to anyone that this trip has been less than blissfully, perfectly wonderful in every single way, but actually we’ve made several mistakes, and some places just weren’t as interesting as we thought they would be. LA was one, Nha Trang is another. We’re learning as we go.

As an example, we’re used to travelling in Europe, where if you turn up on the day and look for a hotel you pay twice the price and may well get told they’re fully booked. On the backpacker trail, however, you pay the highest price if you book online, as you can’t bargain, and – most importantly – you can’t inspect the room before you fork over the cash. And you certainly can’t get a refund if you decide to leave early.

K picked a nice hotel in Nha Trang, and booked us in. We needed a couple weeks, as we weren’t sure when we’d be able to do scuba.

We landed in Ho Chi Minh City, and took the train up. We checked in, argued with the hotel until they gave us the room we paid for, and went to explore.

We really are out in the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm. The beach is close (and I do love a beach) but the town centre is 5k away. And thanks to the type of building around here (educational/commercial), there are very few market stalls or restaurants or shops. I couldn’t figure out where people bought groceries, until I realised that people don’t really live around here.

Football pitches and school buildings with the sea in the distance

There’s this notion of ‘authentic travel’ prevalent on travel blogs and in guide books. The ideal is to ‘visit the real {whatever country}’ and ‘see the heart of the place’. It’s characterized by deeply meaningful encounters with locals that typically only last 30 seconds. I find it a bit odd. It’s like the ‘travel like a local’ thing. Even if you live somewhere for years and years, you won’t necessarily see behind the scenes, so I don’t see how you could manage it in a week of rushing about.

And if you do spend time somewhere ‘like a local’ you’ll notice that locals are stuck in exactly the boring rut that made you want to travel. They work. They shop for food. They cook the same meal they made the day before yesterday. They buy coffee at Starbucks. (Actually, Nha Trang doesn’t seem to have a Starbucks. It may be the last place on earth not to. I bet Everest has one.) They eat at McDonalds and do all sorts of non-authentic things. They watch TV.

Locals don’t visit tourist attractions. They don’t go to major religious sites, except on the appropriate holidays. If you do a place ‘like a local’ you’ll miss out.

Nha Trang crushes those lovely ‘off the beaten track’ dreams. It’s an entirely ordinary town, where most people seem to have nothing to do with the tourism industry. As a result, they don’t speak English. And if they did learn a tourist language, it would be Russian. There are a lot of Russian tourists. Well, there aren’t a lot of tourists down this end, but the ones there are speak Russian. Or Vietnamese – our hotel seems to be a pretty successful conference center. We’ve already seen the classic ‘egg drop’ team building exercise and there’s 3 nights of corporate functions and weddings every week.

Nha Trang is, in short, boring.

It’s too far away from anything friends with local knowledge or the guidebook recommends to make a day trip. HCMC, Hanoi, Hoi An and Hue are all at least 8h away. Even the Lonely Planet Guide to Vietnam and Trip Advisor are at a bit of a loss. LP recommends visiting the local medical centre and Trip Advisor is all about the scuba. Pool, beach, sea: that’s it.

That’s not a bad thing though.

Street at night in torrential rain

It took a while to get into the habit of having nothing to do. We visited over 20 cities in the 2 1/2 months it took us to get from the UK to Vietnam. We didn’t really mean to go so many places, it just kind of happened that way. Did you know that it’s only 20 minutes on the metro from Osaka to Kyoto? And the same to Kobe? Me neither, but once you find that out, how could you resist?

The first couple of days, I think we slept and ate pizza. After that, we read books, swam in the pool and the sea, and explored the hotel’s menu. After that, I got bored. I got itchy feet. I complained to K that I wanted to move on. I got cross that the hotel was booked and paid for, so we couldn’t go away or change it without wrecking our budget.

I think at that point, K booked the scuba to distract me. He’s asthmatic, so has to wait for his breathing to be perfect before he can dive. It didn’t happen, but he got me out of the hotel for 3 days. (And then fish! fish fish fish. Seriously, I saw so many cool fish. And a purple slug with a crown of yellow horns on its butt.)

Lit up football pitch at night masked by palm trees and torrential rain

After that, I relaxed. I suddenly realised how lovely it is to have nothing to do. All our successes from Nha Trang are small, things that could have happened anywhere, but they happened here. We planned out a website we’ll probably never build, I started a book I’ll probably never finish. K taught me to play his favourite computer game. We actually watched some TV. I swam 1.5km for the first time this year.

It’s been good.

Now, our time in Nha Trang is coming to an end. We leave on Wednesday and it’s all a rush again. We’ve got things to do today, tomorrow and the next day. After that, we’re in the hands of the airlines. We’ve got a train to HCMC, an overnight layover there then a flight to Singapore. 18h in that city, then on to Brisbane. A weekend there, then on to Auckland. It’s all down to when flights are affordable, and so whoosh we’re off!

Staying in a capsule hotel

Staying in a capsule hotel

We’re staying in a capsule hotel in Tokyo. I was excited to book it because I like small space living, trying new things, and trying uniquely local things. Capsule or ‘pod’ hotels seem very Japanese. I was a bit worried though, because I didn’t know if we’d physically have enough space to sleep, without driving each other crazy (we do – just!). I also thought I might find it claustrophobic, or spend the whole time banging my head.

A row of pods in a capsule hotel. Each is half the height of a room and about as wide as a small double bed

Another worry was, of course, the level of service. This capsule hotel was cheaper than a hostel (about £25/night), and it’s right by (50m from) a main line metro station. It’s also near shops and restaurants. It’s so convenient, and it has free Wi-Fi, so I figured there had to be a catch. But we risked it, and oh man am I glad we did. I don’t know if this would be true in other Japanese hotels (we’ll find out in Kyoto), but so far we’ve had clean bedding, towels, pajamas and slippers every day. There are nice toiletries in the shower rooms, including things like q-tips, hair mousse and toothbrushes, and there’s a hot tub (too hot for me, unfortunately). It’s a bargain, particularly the clean pajamas.

A pile of brown pajamas and beige towels in a locker

They’re not the most flattering things, but it’s absolutely decadent to have someone hand you clean, pressed, neatly folded pajamas every evening. This is particularly true if you’ve been wearing the same few bits for two months, and sweating like a tourist in the hot sun.

So! What’s it like staying in a capsule hotel? Well, I can only speak from experiencing this one hotel, this one time, and it’s also my first time in Japan. Everything is clean and tidy, and pretty well organised. This hotel clearly caters to backpackers, as there are signs in English and beds for women. Some capsule hotels are men only, and that’s probably because you’re expected (but not obliged) to change into your pajamas when you arrive and the showers and hot tubs are both communal and entirely clothes-free areas. It’s not somewhere to stay if you’re a never-nude, but if you’re OK with a sauna or communal changing rooms at the gym, you’ll be fine.

This hotel is happy for you to eat in the lounge, so we’ve bought our own breakfast. You do, absolutely, definitely, I really mean it, have to take your shoes off when you get in. Leave them in your locker. I don’t think anyone will shout at you (like they would in England!) if you don’t, but it’s polite.

Tokyo - our capsule

The pods are half the height of a room, which means that I can sit up comfortably in one. They’re over 6 foot / 180cm long, as my feet don’t touch the end. If you’re much taller than my 184cm, get one on your own so you can curl up. I do manage to bang my head, but not more than I do in normal rooms, so, um, I win?

There’s a TV and radio in the pod, in case you feel like watching something. The rule is to be pretty quiet though, as there’s only a thin screen at the end of the bunk. Apart from K’s snoring, and someone quietly leaving at 4am, I haven’t really heard anyone else although I know the pods around us have been occupied.

It’s not entirely relaxing, but this is primarily because (a) there’s that hostel element to it, which means not much privacy and (b) our stuff is scattered between the pod / wherever we are; a locker and luggage storage at reception. If they just had luggage lockers on the wall opposite the pods, it would be much more pleasant.

I do like the capsule concept, and think it’s a great idea. It’s a clever way of fitting more people in, without dropping the level of service. I’d like to see them in London and Paris. We’re on a pretty tight budget as if you take any number, multiply it by 30 days in a month and then 6 you get a scarily big number. So we’re aiming to spend £30 or less per night on accommodation (a figure which is probably making a few of you shudder or worry for our safety, but it’s been fine, honestly). The thing is, even that tight budget still adds up to £5400 over six months. And that’s a lot of money.

Tokyo Tower at night

Tokyo Tower at night

So we landed in Tokyo on Monday, and one of our first stops was the Tokyo Tower. This is a copy of the Eiffel Tower with a few tweaks: for one thing, it’s 13m taller and for another it’s bright orange. Like its French counterpart, it’s beautifully lit at night.

Tokyo Tower - very similar to the Eiffel Tower only bright orange - lit up at night

I should warn you, that this post is mostly a bunch of pictures I took that I’m pretty pleased with. I’ve only got a point-and-shoot so getting decent shots at night can be a bit hit and miss.

Tokyo Tower - very similar to the Eiffel Tower only bright orange - lit up at night

My last camera stopped working entirely about 3 weeks before we left on this trip (sort of good timing…). I spent about £150 on a Panasonic Lumix TZ35, which was as close as I could get to my old camera with a better zoom. As cameras go, it’s a pretty low-budget option (and certainly cheaper than an iPhone!) but I’ve been very impressed with it. The IA (intelligent auto) on it is very good, giving me time to figure out the other settings.

A Tokyo shrine with the light trails of taxis rushing by

The last two shots were taken using its built in ‘creative control’ modes. These are clearly designed for the Instagram generation, and include fun things like ‘model’ (as in model village, not Kate Moss) and ‘dramatic art’.

In case you’re wondering, the tower really is that orange:

Tokyo Tower - very similar to the Eiffel Tower only bright orange


You can go up it, but as usual the fee is approximately our daily travel budget, so we didn’t.

Adventures in time and LA

Adventures in time and LA

Although I don’t love shopping as much as the next person (and the next person is K…) I have picked up a few bits and bobs on my travels. I think all my souvenirs so far are either yarn (essential), postcards (small) or things I can wear (both useful and necessary, clearly).

In this picture, I’m wearing pretty much all of them: new leggings from Walmart (I know) to replace the ones with holes I can’t repair (but they’re hanging on, so now I’ve got two pairs, oops); a Big Easy Roller Girls t-shirt from the Roller Derby bout we saw in New Orleans, and which I haven’t blogged about (oops) (it was very good); a recycled-glass pendant of the world (does that make up for shopping at Walmart?) and my newest acquisition, a totally practical skirt I found at Hot Topic. This is the XXL, in case you’re wondering about sizing.

Me on some steps, wearing a black tank top, white sandals and a skirt covered in Tardises

I’d been wanting a skirt so I could wear tops and leggings together, as I have a surfeit. I’m not comfortable wearing leggings on their own, except as sportswear, and particularly not when they have small holes in the crotch. So I’ve been looking for a skirt and this one is PERFECT.

In case it’s not entirely clear why I’m so chuffed with a blue and white skirt, here’s a close up:

Close up of a skirt printed with Tardis pictures

And in case you were wondering where we are, here’s a long shot:

Me on the steps of LA's towering city hall

That’s LA’s City Hall. You may have seen it staring in productions like the official LAPD badge, Torchwood’s Miracle Day, the GTA games, War of the Worlds, LA Confidential and many others.

So yes, we’re finally in LA, which means this is our last week in the USA! We’ve been walking the star-studded (literally, more on that another time) streets of Hollywood, spotted another film crew (a commercial this time), and, of course, shopping for Doctor Who merch. We’ve seen where they shot Fight Club and Heat. We’ve got a few more days here, which I predict will be full of K standing on street corners and telling me about how one time this totally epic gun battle was filmed just over there somewhere or maybe down the road. I’m hoping that lots of great car chases happened at the beach, so I can go for a swim…

I’ve written a couple of other blog posts to slot into the archive. In Texas, we went to a drive in movie (best way to see a film, IMHO) and discovered the small town of Bagwell (I kid you not. It’s real). K’s written about what we did in San Francisco, so if you want to know about that, you can read his blog instead.

Watching the days rolling away

Watching the days rolling away

We’re in San Francisco, where we have friends. We’re staying with a friend, in fact (THANK YOU!). This means that on top of going and seeing all the cool things, and the tourist things, we’re going to pubs and hanging out and stuff.

Seals on a dock at Angel Island

So I’m falling even further behind on this blog and I give up. I’ve jotted down a list of posts I’d like to write, and when I have a minute I will. I’m going to back date them though, so they’ll appear in the right order in the archive (because that makes sense to me) but link them in a ‘where we are now’ post (like this) so you don’t have to hunt for them (because that seems fair). Seems like a tidier solution than rocketing back and forth between six weeks ago and now.

Graffiti reading 'if at first you don't succeed - call an airstrike'

Speaking of, we’ve been on the road for over a month! In fact, as it’s now the 20th and we set off for Iceland on the 6th, it’s been a month and a half. We’re still enjoying the trip and the travelling. Texas was very quick travel, with a new city and a new place to stay pretty much every day, which was kind of exhausting. We’re slowing down a bit, with a week each in SF, LA, Tokyo and Osaka, then hoping to have a good long break on a beach in Vietnam. If we can work it out, we might do some scuba there, which would be brilliant. But first, we’ve got a weekend wandering around SF, and another Amtrak ride.

Seagull flying against a blue sky


In the meantime, K has updated his blog, and I’ve written about our visits to San Antonio and Oklahoma City.

This is my town

This is my town

Travel is almost entirely self-indulgent (we’ve seen a few friends along the way, and I hope they got something out of that!), and rationally there’s no real difference between taking a tour to Alcatraz or what we did in Texas, but it does feel different: this feels like the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever done, and that’s from someone who quit a good job to travel at least twice.

Me under a road sign that says Bagwell

In Texas, we went to see my town. There’s a small town called Bagwell in Texas, and I’ve wanted to go see it since my uncle told me about it a decade ago. K’s current fascination with cowboys and the Wild West gave me a great excuse to get us to Texas, and once in Texas it was an easy drive to Bagwell.

Well, I say ‘easy drive’. It was easy from the passenger seat. Did I mention that K did all the driving in Texas? Well, he did, and was a star. There were all kinds of crazy things to deal with, too. For instance, we eventually saw some wildlife that wasn’t road kill – he had to drive around a frog, a giant spider (bigger than the frog), an armadillo and a tortoise, all in one day. This is our second tortoise, which was almost under the road sign pictured above.

Tortoise by the side of the road

Although ‘Bagwell’ sounds like a typical British surname, it’s actually fairly rare. I’ve only seen my surname unexpectedly twice in my life: once in a museum in Devon, and once in Castle. Having a whole town named for me (clearly that’s what’s happened, right?) is PRETTY COOL.

Standing by the Bagwell Community Center sign

Bagwell is a tiny town, a couple of hours outside of Dallas. It seems quite rural, with few businesses and not much going on, but that could just be because we arrived at something like 9am on a Tuesday. 

Abandoned pick up truck with vegetation growing through and around it

To be even handed, we also visited K’s town. His is in Oklahoma, so it’s clearly smaller (everything’s bigger in Texas).

K standing by a street sign that says Kendrick

The sat nav took us there along a dirt track, which was quite pleasing, and over bridges the same colour as the earth and water in the river underneath.

Rusty red bridge over a rusty red river



We dipped into our 8th state, staying about 24 hours. Oklahoma City is very similar to the Texan cities we’ve visited. It’s got skyscrapers downtown, quickly fizzling out into strip malls and single family homes. I didn’t get a picture of the skyline because we were driving, hopping between different places. I really don’t have a good feel for the city at all, but here’s a bit of an impression.

Oklahoma state capitol

That’s the state capitol building. It looks much like the other state capitol buildings we’ve seen. The quirk in Oklahoma is that there are oil wells next door, literally under 100m away. In fact, there are oil wells all over the place. I thought oil wells had to be whacking big North Sea type platforms, but here it’s just a ‘nodding donkey’ pump in a field.

'Nodding donkey' oil well

That one’s out by the airport, near the 99s Women Pilots Museum. It’s a small museum in what looks like an office building near the airport, but was well worth a visit. Women were flying and setting records right from the earliest days of aviation, the days when you bought a plan from the Wright brothers and fixed it yourself.

Cordoroy flying suitPurple silk flying suit
These are both flying suits, modelled on ones worn by America’s first female licensed pilot, Harriet Quimby (purple silk) and the second, Miss Moisant. They both got their licenses in 1911. I think these reflect two different reactions to women’s struggle to being taken seriously in a male-dominated field. Both suits are shockingly practical (bifurcated, in fact) but one is overtly feminine, disarming those critics who suggested that flying would cause a woman to lose her femininity, while the other is more male, perhaps disarming those critics who suggested that femininity would disqualify someone from flying.

We drove a bit of Route 66, which seems hard to avoid (not that we were trying) and stopped at this flour mill, simply because K’s using a picture of it for one of his games under development.

Yukon flour mill, looks like a large tin bread box

We were actually on our way to the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum. It’s more of a museum to the myth of the cowboy, and western in the sense of movies, than a history of the conquest of the west. It’s got a recreation of a western town at dusk, with a school house and a bank and all that. It’s a bit like a theme park. I did learn quite a bit about rodeo (and when women got pushed out from competing, and how black cowboys were critical in the early years and then got pushed out, but I don’t think that was the main point).

Oklahoma is kind of an odd place to visit, I find, as I mainly know it as (1) the end of the Trail of Tears, Indian Territory, and (2) Oklahoma!

So, the territory that now makes up the state of Oklahoma was promised to Native American tribes in perpetuity, and for a while it looked like the US government might honour their treaties. If you’ve read Little House on the Prairie, you might remember that the prairie in question that the Ingalls family go off to settle is in Indian Territory. They’re squatting on Osage land, hoping that the US government will open the land to white settlers.

While the Ingalls family have to leave as they get word that the US military is coming to enforce the treaty, this doesn’t last and by the 1890s about half the territory granted to Native American tribes ‘in perpetuity’ had been taken back or granted to the railroad companies.

Today, many Native American groups are represented in Oklahoma, including groups that were pushed their during relocation in the 19th century. The Cherokee, Choctaw and other Eastern tribes were forcibly relocated. So many died along the way that the routes are known as the ‘Trail of Tears’.

Native points of view were not represented in the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum, although there was a gallery featuring Native American arts and crafts. Overall, our flying visit had a lot more to do with the cheerful, singing cowboy motifs of the hit musical Oklahoma! than how the west was ‘won’.

Driving the highways in Oklahoma, there were loads of casinos. The World Casino was worth slowing down for a look.

Replica of Big Ben at World CasinoThat’s a car park. No, I mean inside. The Tower of Big Ben and, I guess, the Houses of Parliament, hide a multi-storey car park.

Replica of the Colosseum at World Casino


I don’t know what’s inside the Colosseum – it certainly doesn’t seem to have any windows.

We made one more stop in Oklahoma, but I’ll tell you about that in another post. If you can’t wait, see if you can spot it in K’s post about Oklahoma City.