Amish Country: 22-26 September

We’re heading north towards New York. Our halfway pause is here in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. This is an area settled by the Amish religious sect in the early 18th century to escape persecution in Europe. Their belief is broadly Lutheran and they keep modern society at arms length by living a lifestyle of yesteryear, so no motorised equipment or electronic gismos. The majority are farmers and work only with hands and horsepower. They travel around by buggy, as per photo below, even on main roads used by juggernauts (and rv’s!). Scary stuff.

They also use bikes- or is it a bike? Where’s the saddle and the pedals? Can’t get too close to take photos as it’s against their beliefs- photos of people are deemed to be worshipping graven images. Must let them know that my snaps aren’t really of worshipping quality.

Later, I see one of these “bikes” parked up against a fence, and find it’s actually an adult scooter. They seem to travel as fast as bikes.

The Amish also work in and run a few shops, although these are mostly operated by their parallel, but less strict, brethren, the Mennonites. Both of these sects are famous for their beautiful quilting and this is mainly what the shops sell, together with other traditional craft products. The next photo shows such a shop, with literally hundreds of exquisite quilts on offer, every one different. Not cheap, but considering the craftsmanship, they are good value at an average of around £600 each.

Now what could blight these idyllic religious settlements? Are we looking at the evidence below of such a virus- an explosion of houses of ill-repute in the area? So many of them, in fact, that a publication is necessary to keep potential clients abreast of the many and various options available.

Don't panic. It’s actually the newspaper of a nearby small town of that name: a pretty little Amish settlement a few miles from our campsite, and which we visited. It is full of quaint shops, as per example in the next picture, and, of course, also full of tourists snapping the signs.

It’s been called Intercourse since 1814, before which it was known as Cross Keys after the village inn of that name. One theory is that the new name reflected the fact that the village was at a crossroads. All very innocent stuff, but you’ve still got to be careful. You wouldn’t propose a trip there in the same way as you might a trip to, say, Washington, where you might enthusiastically suggest, ”Darling, let’s do Washington tomorrow!”

Washington DC: Monday 19th Feb

All visits to Washington must include a photo of the Capitol and the White House. So that’s the Capitol above, and a very beautiful, large, impressive building it is. The cornerstone was laid in 1793 by George Washington, and the original structure has been modified and extended several times since, also surviving a British attempt to burn it down in 1814 that was foiled by a rainstorm. And here’s the White House:

Our pal Barack wasn’t available, so you’ll have to make do with us in the foreground. Unusually for notable buildings, we didn’t find it that impressive. It looked like a slightly down-market version of Joe Bugner the boxer’s house opposite Hartford Marina. In fact, we couldn’t find it until we spotted a group of Japanese tourists snapping away at something just out of our line of sight.

The Lincoln Memorial above holds a statue of Abraham Lincoln and the text of two of his famous addresses. It is an elegant structure in its own right, but it’s usually remembered as the focal point for anti-Vietnam war protests in the 60’s and as the venue for Martin Luther King’s famous “I have a dream” speech in 1963. It’s always a moving experience to be at a spot where significant events actually took place.
Now for something a bit more cookie- a message inspired by Yoko…

The buildings so far described, and many others, lay in or on either side of a quarter mile by two-mile parkland: grass, gardens and ornamental lakes. The whole thing is known as the National Mall. It includes memorials, monuments, museums and art galleries, and this is where Yoko comes in. Yoko’s Wish Tree is outside the Hirshhorn Museum, an art gallery. Of course, you’ll want to see the wish tree itself.

The wish tree appears to be gripping the chap on the left in a headlock. No prizes for guessing what his wife put on the wish label! It would be wonderful to think that somewhere these wishes were being processed, evaluated and actioned. However, me being me, I could imagine writing a wish, and then going back some months later and writing another one. This second wish would be wishing that I hadn’t wasted my time making the first wish, because nothing had happened. Anyway, we wish Yoko every success with the project.

Family Visiting

It’s a long time since we’ve seen Claire, Scott, Mathew & Katie. Got to stop yourself from saying what whiskery great aunt Maude used to say, “My, haven’t you grown”. They hate it today as much as you did. So let the photo speak for itself. Left to right: Colin, Jane, Mathew, Katie, Claire & Scott.

Their home is in a pretty wooded area, part of a small community but not far (10 miles) from a town the size of Huntingdon with a full range of shopping. There's much more space everywhere, even in a relatively populated state like Virginia.

Claire’s still got English roots deep down, and the photo of Claire’s car below is the evidence! Scott is able to do anything with cars and even had his own bodyshop/car conversion business at one time. I believed him when he said the roof took him ages.

Bloggin’ USA: September/October 2011

Departure: Wed Sept 14th

Our Virgin Atlantic flight took off from Heathrow for Washington Dulles airport at 11.40am after a slight delay. The 8 hour flight landed on time. Then through immigration, but after that we can’t find the hotel courtesy coach pick-up point. So let’s phone the hotel. No phone signal- but here comes the coach, and we get to the hotel for around 5.30 pm US time (UK 10.30 pm). Check in, meal in restaurant up the road, bed.

What is remarkable for such a long, busy day is how smoothly it all went. So a rather pedestrian start to the blog, with nothing horrendous or unusual to report. Thankfully.

Day 2 is motorhome pickup time. I’ll refer to it by the American name from here on: it’s an rv, short for recreational vehicle. We’ll perhaps call it Harvey (ar-vee). Here it is parked in our first campsite.

As you can see, it comes with lurid graphics, but the hand-over was very efficient and included a 20 minute video on how to maintain its vital functions. Get the husbandry wrong and, like a neglected pet, it becomes sick or even dies. The systems in general are the same as our caravan, but the details are all different, even the terminology. The electric hook-up cable, for example, is a “shore line”. Perhaps the rv’s amphibious? The internal heater is a “furnace”, for that extra power in case you’ve brought the horse along and need to shoe it. It’s a pretty standard layout, as the photo below shows, and comes complete with maid called Jane.

Driving the vehicle also takes some getting used to, not so much the 25 foot length or 8 foot 6 inches width, but the spongy suspension. It’s like steering a motorised space hopper. Take your eye of the road for a second and it’s lumbered into the next lane. The technique appears to be total concentration and continuous steering adjustment. American drivers are fortunately very tolerant and proof of that is the absence so far of bullet holes in the rv bodywork.

June 10th to 19th: The Dordogne

We have often visited this lovely area of France, with its rolling hills, wide rivers and ancient towns. This time we are near Gourdon, 15 miles south of the river Dordogne.
Our first trip out was to visit a cave system with prehistoric wall paintings. Ok, some were on the ceiling. There are many such caves in this area and the one we visited at Pech-Merle contained some of the best artwork. An example is given below, and is my photo of a photo: it was a guided tour with cameras banned, understandably.

The painting really did look as vibrant as this- notice the hand outlines as well. It has been carbon dated at 24,600 years old. The oldest known illustration is about 32,000 years old in another cave not far away, and is another photo of a photo, below. The artist could almost have been designing tablemats for the World Wildlife Fund gift shop.

The tour of the cave was well laid out to show not only the cave paintings but also incredible stalactite/stalagmite and rock formations. We also saw hyena teeth; mammoth bones and cave bear claw marks. There were human footprints preserved in the cave clay. You could just about read the Nike logo on the sole print.
We found it impossible to envisage what life was like then. Your imagination goes from primitive apeman to the Flintstones. The reality was something in between and probably surprisingly sophisticated if the cave art is any yardstick.

Next day the campsite organised a walk along the top of a deep gorge, and then down into it along a steep path that led to an abandoned watermill. What toil it must have been to donkey the grain down, and the milled flower up, this tortuous trail in all weathers. For us, it was an ideal spot for lunch, as the photo shows with Jane in the foreground and another walker disappearing into the bushes. Well it was getting on 3 hours since we left the campsite.

June 8th: Lourdes

Lourdes was a suitable stopping point en route to the Dordogne, and we stayed an extra day to look around. As everybody knows, it is a major pilgrimage site, with 6 million visitors a year and more hotels than any other city in France apart from Paris.

The church in the photo is built above the grotto, the scene of Bernadette’s visions in 1858 and, with the grotto, is the focus for the pilgrims who mainly come seeking a cure. The grotto itself is shown in the next photo.

The church is fronted by a large square, then some gardens, and then the town. We were expecting these parts near the church and grotto to be full of stalls, shops and peddlers, maybe even “official” gift shops run by the Church, capitalising on the religious souvenirs people feel obliged to buy to take home. This, and lots of snacks and ice creams. But in all these areas controlled by the Church there was no commercialisation whatsoever; quite the opposite from the circus we thought might prevail. The photo shows the church and square empty except for people.

The town itself makes up for the Church’s lack of business exploitation with numerous shops plying overpriced religious souvenirs, and eateries of all types. It is a well-oiled machine for fleecing the visitor, reminiscent of Marrakech..

This is another and newer part of the pilgrim package: a subterranean church, near the original church, built to cope with the huge numbers that come here. It can seat 20,000 people, and the photo shows just the right-hand half. The concrete ribs give the sensation of sitting in an enormous fish. So now we know what Jonah felt like in his whale. The outer ring of the building, a kind of cloister, has some expressive modern art (1985) made of glass, all by the same artist, as example below.

We were impressed by the manner in which all the officials efficiently and sensitively organised the pilgrims. This was especially important for the many who were old or ill and in wheel chairs with carers. All this was for no charge, either for the officials’ services or entry into the various religious venues. Being in the presence of such a great volume of people’s spiritual aspirations was quite a moving experience.

We might have stayed another day, but the campsite was inundated with flies that seemed to be able to get into the caravan through the smallest gap, including the fly screens. We despatched 73 in the ‘van on our return from town, and weren’t keen to deal with another plague the following day.

June 3rd – 6th: Salamanca

Salamanca is only 90 miles north of Monfrague, so we arrived there at lunchtime. The campsite we chose was part of a hotel complex just on the edge of the city. A notice directs new arrival campers to hotel reception. It feels odd being booked in by staff in pinstripe trousers instead of shorts and wellies. We’re allocated room number 44. Not sure we’ll get the caravan in the hotel lift. Ah, it’s pitch number 44. It’s a nice big one on the site perimeter, and quiet.

Above is the definitive photo of Salamanca. It’s of the cathedral on the high ground of the old city. The cathedral is the old cathedral and the new cathedral, which is built right next to it and almost surrounds it, being much larger. The new cathedral, rather like the New Forest in England, is actually very old, but not quite as old as the old cathedral (12th century).

This photo above is also a beautiful old building: Salamanca university. The university was founded just after our Oxford, and it was where Michael Portillo (the politician)’s father was a professor before the Spanish Civil War at which time he moved to England. There are many picturesque old streets and buildings in the town.

Here’s the handsome central square, arcaded with shops and the Tourist Information Office. These Offices are often difficult to find, being obscurely signposted, and not particularly informative if you do find them. That would certainly be Victor Meldrew’s opinion, and we are of an age.

Salamanca was the only place in Spain we heard live flamenco music, and that was from a street performer outside the cathedral, who was excellent. We bought one of his CDs, and a good €5 worth it has proved to be.

Good vibes from Salamanca and we would happily return.