Back from my travels and with a bit of time to reflect, my impressions of the North American people are nothing but favourable.
Everywhere we went, we were met with kindness, politeness, warmth and friendliness.
In some places cars, actually stopped for you when you wanted to cross the road - even if you weren't at a crossing.
We had been told that the American immigration people were humourless and severe and that we would be fingerprinted.
They weren't and we weren't.
As we trepidatiously approached them sitting uniformed at their desks, they piped up:
"Welcome to American Idol!" and cracked off laughing.
The Americans love our accent. I was in a cafe and only said:
"This coffee's steaming" and a passing cleaning lady went into paroxysms of delight.
A Jehovah's Witness I met on the street told me:
"I married an English girl. Fell in love with her accent then didn't listen to a bluddy word she said".
New York was clean and I only saw one crazy person all the time I was there. We came off the docks at Brooklyn and the first clock I saw had the time at 9-11. (Not that I'm superstitious).
But when I was up the top of the Empire State Building and saw a plane heading towards us with a helicopter at the side and a local next to us said:
"I don't like the look of this..." I turned to my wife and said:
"Well, there's nowt we can do is there?"Thankfully, it veered away.
At the mindbogglingly wonderful Grand Central Station, I collared a black porter and asked him to show me where Al Pacino got shot in Carlitto's Way. He very kindly took me on a tour:
"Dat's de elevator where de shootout took place and Track 18 is where Al was wid dat broad when he got shot. I was dere."What a star.
The only danger in New York these days is getting a crick in the neck from admiring the architecture.
Being in New York is like being in a film. Everywhere you look is somewhere.
Central Park, Macy's, the Rockefeller, Statue of Liberty, Trump Towers, the Chrysler building, the mad yellow cab drivers, Times Square. Ya gotta see it!
In Wilmington, I got to have a ride on a yellow School bus to a big shopping mall.
Newport, a millionaire's playground with some of the most expensive yachts I've ever seen, was gorgeous. The multi-coloured old wooden-fronted houses were a delight on the eye and the people were again so friendly.
I spent nearly an hour talking to a wonderful old veteran of the 2nd World War and Korean war. He told me about a hit on the bridge of a destroyer by a Kamikaze pilot. Out of 16 people who died, one survived.
Him.
He still lies awake at night wondering why he had been spared.
I'll remember you for a long long time Vincent...
The patriotism and pride of the American people is in evidence everywhere. Every other house proudly bore the Stars and Stripes. Here's Vince on his porch waving goodbye.
Bar Harbor is another beautiful New England fishing port with its own Acadia National Park on its doorstep - not unlike our own Lake District. The leaves were just turning.
Here we met a delightful lady by the name of June who sold nothing but clocks of the most amazing capabilities. We ended up singing the songs that the clocks were playing on the hour!
June loves her clocks and I think the clocks love June.
In Boston, we walked the Freedom Trail - a well laid out tour of the old part of the city which takes you to the highlights of the War of Independence and where, on an old inn, I spotted the following very precise sign:
I'll remember Boston because Boston was where I bought my incredible gorgeous new
iPod Touch!!!! (Is it wrong to be in love with a piece of technical wizardry?) I walked miles in New York to the new Apple Store to get one, only to be told they had sold out the day before.
Anyway, despite the preponderance of lobster along the coast,
I was amazed by the massive amount of vegetarian and even vegan eating places in America and Canada (the exception being Quebec).
In St John's New Brunswick, we went to a vegan cafe where the delicious food was freshly cooked and you could help yourself to a buffet with 2 soups, 6 main meals, a big salad bar and lots of steaming coffee for just under 2 quid!
In Portland, a few quid got you this:
In Halifax, Nova Scotia we walked the magnificent seafront and were just in time to watch a duckrace:
In Quebec, I followed in General Wolfe's footsteps and scaled the Plains of Abraham
where 2 centuries ago, we beat the French and changed the course of Canadian history.
Then to add insult to injury, 2000 of us Brits sailed away at sunset waving Union Flags and singing Land of Hope and Glory!
St. John's in Newfoundland was a little like a Wild West town. The coats on sale were really thick and the local rum is called Screech. I tried that then went for a haircut at an old-fashioned barbers where he shaved my neck and trimmed me with a cut-throat razor.
All in all, it was a magical trip. All I can say is, thank you America and Canada.
God willing, we'll be back.
