We checked out of the motel and headed for the Miami International Airport where we located the Hertz store. We were ready to switch cars for the last time. Upon the delivery of the Volvo, we agreed that it had been a good choice to go for this “boring” Swedish car in Boston - it had served us well, and was a great vehicle for the road. There had been one or two occasions during these two weeks where we’d been stuck for God knows how long in the Lincoln Town Car we were initially dealt.

But now it was time to let the swede go and find a ride more fit for a trip to the Keys. Louis had wanted to do the entire trip in a Mustang. We’d agreed that it would be both expensive and impractical, but for this last leg we felt we deserved to finish with style. So we turned in the Volvo, and was delivered the keys to a black Ford Mustang convertible. Louis was happy and excited as a kid on X-mas morning. Selma shared the enthusiasm for a while - until we started stuffing all our gear into the car.

Our final ride: A Ford Mustang Convertible

Louis entered the US with a tiny backpack, but five weeks on the road had generated a massive amount of luggage. Selma had dragged along a huge suitcase and a bag across the continent - and we soon discovered that the trunk of the Mustang wasn’t big enough to hold it all. But Louis wasn’t willing to let anything lower his enthusiasm, and worked some magic to make most of our stuff disappear into the tiny trunk compartment. He strapped Selma’s suitcase in the back seat and jumped in behind the wheel. Selma got in on the passenger side and sunk to the floor. Literally. The bucket seat was so low, and was impossible to regulate vertically, thus all she could see from a normal position was the dashboard.

The view from the passenger seat in the Mustang

So Selma was a bit grumpy as we hit the road in the new ride, but it helped a little as we got out on the road and aimed for the Keys. Besides, the floor in front of her was packed with luggage, so she had to sit on her knees - which improved the view a lot. This time, we had no Kitty to help us find the way, but we were given a map and good directions back at Hertz. And finding the way was no problem, - as soon as we got out of Miami, there was only one way out to the keys: Highway 1, or more specific for this stretch of the road: The Overseas Highway.

Rolling down the Keys with the wind blowing in our hair (and the back seat full of luggage)

We’d pictured the Florida Keys as a bunch of small islands with long bridges between them, going on and on forever just slightly above the water - somewhat like the long bridge we crossed along the Florida panhandle. But actually, it was quite the opposite: Long islands with short bridges between them. Road work was going on along the road for the first few miles after leaving the mainland, so the traffic went slow and the smell of the mangrove swamp was anything but pleasant. It didn’t keep us from riding with the top down, though! It was extremely hot, but quite misty - and even though we barely could see the sun through the haze, we could easily feel it burn.

With sunblock within reach as we drive with the roof down

We entered Key Largo, the largest of the keys, and finally understood the mumble in the song Kokomo by the Beach Boys.. We located a Subway (as usual) and had lunch. We took turns going in, as we had the open car full of luggage and didn’t bother putting the top on. We hit the road again, and continued further south - through Islamorada (”Village of Islands”), Marathon and across a bunch of tiny islands. The Seven mile bridge was the closest we got to a “driving on water” experience, and in all fairness - it is pretty amazing.

No, we’re not trying to kill ourselves - this is looking back at the Seven mile bridge

After about three hours, we arrived at the furthest island, the Key West. With our rooftop down, we blasted the speakers (but were listening to a blues channel on the satellite radio, so we didn’t roll like big time gangsters) and took a spin around the island before locating our hotel close to the southern tip. We had some trouble finding parking for our car and had to drive around a few turns before settling for a spot a few blocks away from our hotel. It was run by a funny and talkative guy who gave us a few pointers about different places and stores to check out - with a “just tell them I sent you”.

Our hotel, the Lighthouse Court, was located on Whitehead Street - just across the street from Ernest Hemingways old home. It’s a lovely resort with a pool in the back yard, clean and cozy environment, and clean rooms with a smell of lavender. All in all pretty gay, actually. Key West is considered a very gay friendly island, and many hotels (ours included) have rainbow flags in their front gates to signalize their gay friendliness.

After taking in the lavender smell and confirming the delicacy of the bathroom, we realized the room had only one bed. We hadn’t even considered that, since all the hotel and motel rooms we had visited so far had had two beds. Back home in Europe, you rarely get more than one bed in a room (and don’t expect to either), but we’d grown accustomed to the large rooms with two queen size beds. Even though we’re close friends (and have grown even closer during the past weeks), we prefer separate beds. Especially since Louis has a tendency to toss and turn like a child - throwing sheets and blankets and pillows like a madman in his sleep.

Louis checking his e-mail from the bed we were about to share

We asked for an extra room at the front desk, but they had no vacant rooms until the next day. We were staying two nights, so we booked an extra room for the second night (at this late stage of the trip, we could afford the extra luxury). And we figured, after all we had experienced together on this trip, we would endure one night in the same bed as well.

But before going to sleep, we had to check out the town a little further.

First we located the main street, Duval, just one block north of our hotel. The street is filled with restaurants and stores - both catering to the thousands of tourists visiting the island and town all year round. But we both agreed that the atmosphere was quite different from most of the other tourist spots we’ve visited around the world. The stores weren’t as cheesy (which isn’t to say they weren’t cheesy at all), and they felt more unique than the typical tourist stores lining typical tourist streets. We just peeked into a few of them, and decided to save any shopping until the next day.

Duval Street, Key West

As we were strolling down the street, Selma suddenly noticed a guy walking past us - carrying something that looked like the spitting image of Brad. Oh - it was Brad! Louis had been carrying him in a strap on his shorts, but he must have fallen down - poor thing! The guy was walking in a rapid speed, so we had to take action fast! Louis stopped the man and told him he was carrying our travel mate, and could we please have him back? The man told us he had found it and planned to give it to his niece, but somewhat reluctantly handed him over. As the man walked on, we realized how terrible it would have been to loose our companion on one of the last days of our trip - after all, he’d been through a lot with us!

Relieved, we went a little bit further up Duval to (the new) Sloppy Joe’s, before going back to hunt for a place to grab something to eat. Despite the number of original restaurants along the street, we ended up having dinner at the Hard Rock Café. Most of the other restaurants were crowded, and our tummies were getting impatient. After dinner (Louis went a bit crazy and ordered fish!), we finished off with the island speciality - Key Lime Pie. It was ok, but not suuuper delicious - but then again, the Hard Rock Café is probably not the best place to get one either.

A blurry taste of Key Lime Pie

We ended the night by taking a quick walk through Mallory Square, home of the Key West Sunset Celebration (but the sun had already set), before we walked home down Whitehead Street. About halfway between the square and our hotel is the official start of the US route 1, the major north-south U.S. Highway that serves the East Coast of the United States, and this is illustrated with a Mile 0 marker. We made Brad pose for us with the sign, but he was still a bit upset that we’d almost lost him so we ended up doing the posing ourselves:

Selma posing with the Mile 0 marker on 490 Whitehead Street

It was fairly dark and hard to get good shots, but we also fired off a few rounds at the nearby courthouse and a huge Kapok tree standing in front of it. Then we walked the last four blocks to the hotel, and sat on the porch outside our room, listening to the silence and looking for lizards, before calling it a night.

The weather was nice and warm, but the sky was filled with smog and haze caused by the fires. We figured it would clear up and get better as we got further south, but meanwhile it made for quite comfortable driving weather. We headed for the I-75 and then took the Florida Turnpike past Orlando, with nothing more exciting happening during those 4-5 hours than a stop at an automatic windshield washer.

Automatic windshield washer north of Orlando

South of Orlando, we decided to head out for the east coast. Or to say it with Rob Van Winkle: Yo, we continued to A1A - Beachfront Avenue! We didn’t see any hot girls wearing less than bikinis, nor Rockman lovers (whatever that is) driving Lamborghinis - but that might have been reserved for the part of the road that goes through Vanilla Ice’s Miami hood. We entered the coast quite a bit further north around 5pm, and as we entered Palm Beach county, we decided to stop and see how the Atlantic coast beaches compared to those in the Gulf.

We drove out to the beachfront in Jupiter, just north of Palm Beach, parked along the road and headed for the sandy shore. We passed a sign telling us to take our shoes off and keep off the dunes. Turns out, this is a nesting area for turtles, and you wouldn’t want to mess with the vulnerable coastal system by scrambling turtle eggs with your feet.

Sign at the beach in Jupiter

Unfortunately for us, but quite fortunately for them, we didn’t see any turtles on the beach. Even still, it was quite exciting to be there and envision those brave little bastards crawling out across that very beach to make their first dive into water! We got to shoot some photos of other wildlife, though; a few surfers wrangling the moderate waves - and some humongous birds windsurfing along the shore. Selma communicated a bit with her GF back home, who was in full distress after her laptop suddenly died. Back home, the rain was pouring down, and we realized we were lucky to be on a beautiful beach on a summery day.

A bird taking off into the haze

But as for the comparison with the Gulf coast beaches, this one didn’t really stand a chance. The sand was nice (with the turtle factor being a big plus), but not as bright white as along the Gulf coast. The impression might have been weakened by the fact that the haze caused by the fires up north was still present (contrary to what we had expected). And of course, neither of us would mind having a beach like this in our ultimate vicinity.

Hey - they’re behind you, Louis!

But our goal for the day wasn’t to perform comparative analyses of the Florida beaches - we had to move on to get down to Miami before dark. So we got back in the car and continued down the coast past Boca Raton, Ft. Lauderdale and Hollywood, before entering Little Cuba a little before 7pm.

Entering Miami

We headed straight for Miami Beach, and caught a glimpse of the lifestyle of the rich and famous as we passed the Palm and Star Islands on the MacArthur Causeway. The flashbacks to Miami Vice grew stronger as we located Ocean Drive, in the heart of the Art Deco District. After driving up and down the street looking for a parking spot, we finally managed to find a free slot along the curb. We walked up and down, admiring (and trying to photograph) the neat architecture while the sun set in the ocean behind tall palm trees. We tried to find a nice place to eat, but every place along the street was packed.

So - we ended up at a TGI Fridays, pretty far south on the strip. The meal wasn’t all that exciting, but at least it was familiar: after settling down at our table, we realized it was a suitable place for a dinner for this next-to-final stop of our road trip, since most of our trip planning had taken place at a TGIF back in Oslo.

Ocean Drive at night

After dinner, we walked back to the car - and with the darkness that had emerged while we were eating, the bright neon lights of the Art Deco buildings along the Ocean Drive were showing off all their glory. We tried to get a few cool shots, but without a tripod present it ended up as a blurry galore. With more time on our hands, we could have stopped to shoot some photos of the illuminated causeway, but we were eager to find shelter for the night and told Kitty to take us to a motel close to the Miami Airport.

From Miami Beach into downtown Miami at night

We ended up at the Days Inn Miami/Airport North, which is located about as close as you can get to the airport. After some problems communicating with the mostly spanish speaking staff, we were given a room - and after a super cute and friendly janitor helped us pump up yet another blocked toilet (we had some fun with one of those in LA as well), we could finally go to sleep.

And tomorrow: The last official stage of our trip!

Our summaries of the trip is first and foremost a way for the two of us to keep a record of all our adventures - so that we can go back and reminisce when we’re old and settled. Even now, only a year after our trip ended, we find it amusing to go back and rediscover small happenings and details that have slipped our mind.

But if our blog can serve as inspiration for others planning to travel across this great country, nothing would please us more! So - we DO have plans to finish up the last reports and reorganize this site so that it’s easier to navigate and find the different highlights. Life just tends to get in the way of the process =) But it’ll happen. Some day!

The Florida Panhandle is a thin line of land along the Gulf Coast, shaped, well — like a panhandle. The coast is lined with beautiful, white beaches and several holiday resort villages - and after a while we drove into on of them: Pensacola Beach. We’d read that the sand on the beaches here were so white that people had been fooled into thinking it was sugar. And upon taking a look on our own, we could easily understand why.

Sparkling white sand at the Pensacola beach

We drove through surprisingly empty streets (it must have been out of season) and stopped by the beach. It was 112°F (44,4°C), the hottest we’d noticed during our entire trip, and the sun was shining from a clear, blue sky. And we sure felt tempted to stay for a while in this paradise! The sea was clear blue with a tint of green, the sand was as white as sugar — or as snow (it actually looked like piles of snow, which was absurd in the intense heat), palm trees were swaying behind us, and as we tried to force Brad to pose for us on the beach, a bright yellow lifeguard truck went past us on the almost empty beach. Throw in a few voluptuous lifeguards in red bathing suits, and we’d felt as if we’d been planted in a Baywatch episode!

It’s getting hot in here!

Lining the beach was a bunch of rental vacation homes, many of them with creative architectonic constructions - some very beautiful, others just.. weird. We went down a straight road, with resorts and hotels on one side and the bright, white beach on the other, until we reached a gate where the road was closed for further driving. We just stopped for a while and took another look at this fascinating, white sand — and at that moment we could easily understand those who spend a week or two here. But we had to move on further into Florida, so we turned around and went back to the highway.

The end of the road - and our beach break

An hour and a half later we arrived at another resort “paradise” along the Gulf coast, Panama City Beach. Several Norwegians have vacation houses here, but neither of us could understand why they didn’t go for Pensacola Beach instead. The sand is probably just as white here (we didn’t take the time to check it out), but the atmosphere wasn’t as pleasing as we felt in Pensacola. Oh well.. a few hours in the area hardly makes us qualified to pass judgment.

On the way out of Panama City we drove into some heavy smoke from a fire along the road, causing traffic to slow down a bit. We saw TV network cars, and figured a fire like this was a rare happening. Little did we know that heavy fires raged across the northern part of Florida (and southern Georgia), but we were to find out later.

Our first encounter with forest fire smoke

It started to get late, and we debated whether to find an inland freeway to speed things up, or to continue (more or less) along the scenic coast on Highway 98. We decided on the latter, but first we had to drive through what was obviously some kind of military area (later we checked the map and discovered we had passed through an area connected to the Tyndall Air Force Base). First we had a few choppers hovering over us. Then two fighter jets passed over the highway. And along the road there were signs with “DANGER! Explosive disposal range - keep out!” So we did.

Chopper from the Tyndall Air Force Base

For several miles, the road was lined with trees, and many of their trunks bore evidence of resent fire. We thought they’d been doing some controlled burning of the forest bottom to ensure further growth. For some parts, it almost looked like driving through a autumn landscape, with all the brown trees. We listened to some funky non-stop music at the satellite radio system, and missed out on the news about the fires spreading along the north of Florida.

After the fire - red trees along the road

We crossed over the 4+ miles long, almost everlasting, flat John Gorrie Memorial Bridge (named after the guy who invented air conditioning!) between Apalachicola and Eastpoint — and it felt just like driving straight on the ocean. With more time on our hands, we could have taken a detour down yet another long bridge and visited the 28-mile-long and 4 blocks narrow paradise-like St. George Island. But even as we continued further west, we could definitely catch glimpses of paradise. We looked down at some beautiful houses along the Gulf shore, secluded behind trees. Some of the houses were huge, and the scenery was really idyllic. We witnessed a beautiful, red sunset, and really started to feel eager about reaching Key West and indulge in some shameless relaxation!

A beautiful sunset as we drove into the Florida night

Even though we could see some houses here and there, we didn’t see many people. We were almost alone on the road, and as it started to get late we began to worry that we wouldn’t find a place to stay for the night. As always, Louis suggested we could continue driving throught the night and take a power nap along the road, but — as always — Selma was more hesitant. We thought about driving up to Tallahassee (being the state capitol, there had to be some places to crash there), but that would mean a serious detour from our planned route. We checked with Kitty, who told us we had a place called Perry an hour or so ahead of us — so we decided to try our luck there.

At nine thirty it was pitch dark, and the headlights of our car were the only light sources in near proximity. The air was filled with bugs, crashing to our windshield, and it felt almost like driving through a snow storm. Weird to be in a summer landscape and have a feeling of being surrounded by snow twice in one day!

Surrounded by darkness

We were running out of gas, and we hadn’t passed a gas station in ages. But as luck had it, we came upon one before it got critical. We filled up, and Selma had a long anticipated cigarette. She poured half a bottle of water on the stump to make sure it didn’t start a fire - ’cause even if we didn’t yet know about the forest fires in the region, we had noticed that the vegetation was fairly dry!

Shortly thereafter, we finally drove into Perry. We stopped at the first and best motel, settled into a room, and went straight to bed.

There are more photos over at Flickr! Check them out!

The backyard of the Norwegian Seamen’s Church

Selma woke up first, and had a cigarette and a photo session in the backyard while she waited for Louis to get up. The staff was up and about, preparing for the upcoming event, and a few of the regular guests (Norwegians living in the area) were already there, relaxing on the patio. When Louis got out and joined us, we were treated to the best meal on the entire trip! At least that’s how it felt at the time! Kjersti was preparing the luncheon, and had made some delicious homemade rolls, Norwegian style - and we got a couple each with lovely, melting Norwegian goat cheese. After weeks of Italian herbs&cheese form Subway, it was heaven to let our teeth sink into something with a taste of home!

We had planned to stay at the Norwegian church for two nights, but there had been a mix-up during the booking process, and Selma had misread the e-mail confirming the dates. All the rooms were occupied for the next night, so we had to find another place to stay - or leave town. We decided to pack up, put our stuff in the car, check out New Orleans and then contemplate whether to stay for one more night (possibly in a guest house further down on Prytania street) or move on towards the Florida pan handle.

We had to “check out” before we left, but inside the church everyone were busy preparing the lunch. So we managed to have a closer look at the church while we waited, which was nice since it was dark when we arrived the day before. Inside they sold Norwegian food and candy - chocolate, cheese.. things we’d missed for so long! And they had a rack of Norwegian newspapers! We’d kept ourselves somewhat updated by reading Norwegian newspapers online, but there’s something special about flipping the papers and feeling the ink of a traditional paper!

“The day is not the same without it” - a slogan for the Norwegian newspaper VG

Exploring the French Quarter

As the norwegian “settlers” started to pour in (with their very amusing mix of Norwegian and English), we snuck out and set out to have a look at the must-sees of New Orleans. We parked on Rue St. Ann in the French Quarter, and walked around for a while, looking around and shooting pictures. It was extremely hot, and Selma was tired and a bit moody - so the enthusiasm wasn’t exploding. But that’s the downside of a trip like this - you’re bound to have days where you’re not as eager to explore and take everything in, but then the next day you’ll be on to a new place, so you only get this one chance to experience the place you’re at. So we tried to make the best of it, and checked out Bourbon Street, stepped into Marie Laveau’s house of Voodoo, had a trip up to the gay quarters and stopped for a cold coke in a bar. There Selma visited one of the nasties bathrooms of the trip, and was relieved that we were there by day and not during the pulsating partyhours at night.

Brad posing with the Bourbon Street sign

For the umpteenth time on this trip, Selma was fascinated by how close her Tony Hawk skateboard games (for Nintendo GameCube) portray real places. While skating around the virtual New Orleans (and San Francisco, San Diego Zoo and other places we’d visited on this trip), she thought the environments were just inspired by the real places. But over and over again, she realized that the game makers had done an appropriate share of research! Thus started a game of spotting the different locations for certain actions in the game, which eventually led us to Jackson Square and the St. Louis(!) Cathedral. We also walked down to Moon Walk, a brick path between the Mississippi River and Jackson Square which got it’s name from the former New Orleans mayor Moon Landrieu - not from Michael Jesus Juice Jackson.

Louis looking at the Saint Louis(!) Cathedral, with his back to the Moonwalk

Saint Louis Cathedral and the Jackson Square

We then checked out the French market, located just a few blocks from the Jackson Square. It wasn’t really much to talk about, mostly Chinese people selling the same junk they sell everywhere else in the world - with the local addition of beads and feather boas…

By then we’d gotten a fairly good impression of the French quarter, and we agreed that Bourbon street by night was something we could easily miss out on. So the only thing we wanted to see before leaving town was the “famous” Lafayette cemetery #1, and perhaps the Garden district surrounding it. But Kitty couldn’t help us find it, we had no map, and no access to Internet - where our own directions were plotted down. So we went up and down the Garden district, stopped at a gas station and asked for directions (and got two, leading in opposite ways), and then started cruising around with the Powerbook up and running (on low battery), trying to find an Internet connection. Finally, awkwardly and not totally legal parked on a corner, we managed to pick up a signal and find a street name we could navigate to.

It was getting close to five in the afternoon, and as we finally arrived at the cemetery the gates were closed. Well, they closed already at two, so we wouldn’t have made it even if we had found the spot right away. We peaked in through the gates (together with a group of tourists and their guide) , and had a brief look at some of the towering tombstones. Then we figured we had to make something out of the effort of finding the place, so we took a series of photos with the cemetery wall as a backdrop.

Louis posing in front of the wall surrounding the Lafayette Cemetery #1

And then, we figured we’d seen enough of New Orleans, and decided to drive on further east towards Florida instead of spending another night in the Crescent city.

While driving around NO (searching for the cemetery), we went by several locations we’d seen under the coverage of the Katrina disaster. Now the town was clean and tourist friendly, but as we passed the Superdome on the highway, we thought of the pictures we’d seen of hundreds of people filling up these very streets after the hurricane.

As we drove out of the city, the evidence of the catastrophe was still very evident. We went past neighborhoods that looked normal at first glance, but as we looked closer, we could see that a wall was missing here, parts of the roof had disappeared there, and the entire hood was deserted. Along the road were piles of debris, damaged vegetation, wrecked boats stranded on weird places and provisional trailer parks (where all trailers were alike, obviously put up by the government to house some of those who lost their homes).

Debris after Katrina along the road

We had told Kitty to take us to Biloxi, Mississippi, but obviously the GPS system hadn’t been updated after the hurricane. ‘Cause after a while, we got to a huge bridge that was still under construction after the disaster - and thus, the road was closed. We had to turn around and drive back (into a sunset that was beautiful - but painful when trying to keep track of the road) a few miles to get to the detour around the bay that the bridge normally crosses.

Around 9pm we entered Biloxi, a not-so-pretty place along the Mississippi shoreline. We found a motel just outside town, checked in and went for a short ride to get some dinner and snacks for the night. After the fantastic Norwegian breakfast of rolls with goat cheese (which Selma had grabbed a few extra of, and snacked on throughout the day), we weren’t that picky about dinner - and the place hadn’t all that much to offer.

So we ended up at McDonald’s - again. And this McDonald’s restaurant had, by far, the most useless pack of employees EVER. One of the guys (who fortunately seemed to have just ended his shift) was standing around licking(!) his palms and yelling childish gibberish, while five(!) people behind the counter were trying to accommodate a lady with her order. The manager on duty obviously had a hard time doing the simplest additions, not to mention trying to keep track of the orders from the stressing total of four customers. We waited for half an eternity to get our food, and when we finally got it, we were so disgusted by the staff that we’d lost our appetite.

But we brought the grub back to the motel, where we settled for the night with poker on the TV and blog updates on the computer - and went to sleep, content with the decision to leave New Orleans early.

Vicksburg is a historic site, but not only because of the important Battle of Vicksburg during the Civil War. The first bottling of Coca-Cola took place here, and several musicians grew up in the area (Willie Dixon and Muddy Waters). There’s probably a lot to see here, but we felt we’d seen more than enough while looking for a place to sleep the night before. So, after a quick breakfast at Subways we got back on the highway 61 and headed further south.

Stopping in Natchez, Mississippi

We continued down to Natchez, some 70 miles southwest of Vicksburg. Unfortunately, we never got on the Natchez Trace Parkway, which our traveling friends described as a “drive through natural park”. As we arrived, we headed straight for the Natchez Visitors Reception Center. We’d read a little about the city, and knew the place was known for its antebellum homes and riverboat casinos, but didn’t know where to go to check out the highlights. The Reception Center turned out to be of some help, as we could check out both a map and a large model of the area - and thus figure out where to drive next.

We went down a steep road by the riverside to “Natchez Under-the-hill“, formerly known as the most notorious river landing on the entire Mississippi river. Today it’s yet again the stopping place for steamboats, and the American Queen, the largest steamboat ever built(*), was visiting as we stopped by. And even though we’d been traveling along the Mississippi for a couple of days, we had to just stop and look at it. It’s not beautiful in it’s brownish glory, but it sure is impressive!

View of the Mississippi on a damp day

We posed with the Queen and had a chat with an old couple that was on a small road trip as well. The old gentleman was very eager to compare photo equipment, and held a small lecture about aperture and f-stops. We smiled and nodded, but were really a bit impatient to go check out the other sight by the river: The riverboat casino! The Isle of Capri is permanently anchored up by the riverside, and offers gambling and entertainment 24/7. We had a short look inside, and were fascinated by the fact that the slot machines were running hot - even on a Monday around lunch time! While Selma tried to be as discreet as possible while violating the “No photography” signs, Louis had a go at one of the slot machines, and won a quarter! Hoooooray, yet another souvenir bookmark! Our Natchez mission was completed, and we were ready to enter Louisiana.

Winning big at the Isle of Capri riverboat casino

Angola - Louisiana State Penitentiary

We crossed the state border and noticed a road sign to the Louisiana State Penitentiary. We had read about the prison in Angola before leaving home, but hadn’t really worked it into our plans. Now, we figured we had time to take a short detour and have a look.

Angola is one of the largest prisons in the US, with 5.000 inmates, and it’s run like a working farm. Both Dead Man Walking and Monster’s Ball had scenes shot here. There’s a museum located outside the prison gates, and among its exhibits is Louisiana’s old electric chair, “Gruesome Gertie”, which was last used for an execution in 1991.

The prison is located approx. 20 minutes west of the Highway 61, and there’s hardly anything but trees before you reach the end of the road: the prison gates. Our luck continued, as the museum was closed - but we figured we were a lot luckier than the people on the other side of the gate!

Louis posing by the gates of Louisiana State Penitentiary in Angola

Selma had tried to get in touch with her GF for a long time, struggling with the crappy connection that seems to be a rule rather than the exeption in this country. As we reached Angola, she was finally able to pick up a signal, and had a chat with the lady back home while Louis started shooting pictures of the prison gates. We must have looked rather suspicious to the guards - two strangers, one talking eagerly on the phone and one taking photos of barbed wire and gate details.

Of course we wanted to have a peek inside, and Louis put on his most innocent smile and asked the strict lady at the gate, but (understandably) we weren’t allowed inside without an appointment. So we stayed outside for a little longer, just reflecting on the fact that we were so close to a way of life so far from what we know. Taking in the destinies of the many men spending the rest of their lives behind those gates - and the many lives outside the prison walls being effected by those inside. Well, we could have stayed and philosophied for a long time, but after a while a guard with a dog in tow got out to the parking lot where we were standing, and we figured it was time to leave.

Gourmet dinner in Baton Rouge

As we got closer to Baton Rouge, we started to get hungry, and figured we’d make a stop in the state capitol and fill up. We drove around searching for a place to eat, but we didn’t know anything about the layout of the city nor where to look for a decent diner - and had no luck. We parked the car and walked around a bit, checking out a monument and an old navy boat down by the Mississippi. But with no restaurants in sight, we surrendered: we got back into the car and went to a McDonald’s down the road.

Arriving in New Orleans

Well fed, we continued south and arrived in New Orleans a little before 9 pm. We let Kitty guide us to the Norwegian Seamen’s Church on Prytania street, and when we saw the Norwegian flag hanging in front of the church building, it felt somewhat like coming home. We rang the door bell and heard a nice “Hallo” in Norwegian. Like music to our ears!

The Norwegian flag greeting us in front of the Norwegian Seamen’s Church

We were guided to our rooms by “housemother” Kjersti (and her adorable son). She handed us towels and linens, and before bidding us goodnight she gave us a few tips about places to visit if we wanted to check out the New Orleans nightlife without walking through crowds of tourists and strip joints in Bourbon Street. So after making the beds (Selma) and chillin’ for a while (Louis!), we decided to do just that.

We hailed a cab and had it take us to Frenchmen Street, a bit east of Bourbon. The cab driver was really nice and talkative, and told us a bit of his perspective on New Orleans after Kathrina. He also gave us advice about where to go to keep safe. The clubs on Frenchmen Street are located within two small blocks, and there’s just a few of them scattered on each side of the street. There’s a nice atmosphere about the area, and not too many tourists. At least not on a Monday night just after a festival weekend.

We went into the Spotted Cat bar where a band was rigging down their equipment, but several guests were seated in direction of the small stage, so we sat down, hoping that the others knew what we were waiting for. The room was tiny and cramped, and Selma was rubbing knees with a young guy sitting next to her. After a short while he got up and walked to the bar, and Selma noticed a gun sticking out of his pocket. Yes, a gun. Selma doesn’t like guns. Selma doesn’t want to rub knees with a guy with a gun in his pocket. So Selma asked Louis if they could leave. Louis is not as easily scared as Selma, so he finished his beer - and then we left.

We decided to give Frenchmen Street one more try. So we went across the street and into d.b.a. At the bar we got to talking with the ones sitting next to us - a guy from Connecticut and a lady from California living in Arizona. A good thing about having traveled so far is that we could say that we’d visited their home states - a great conversation opener. After a nice talk, some beer sampling (on Louis’s part) and a small photo shoot, our compadres left to check out another bar. We finished up our drinks and decided to call it a night and head back to our sanctuary.

The church has a swimming pool in the backyard, and Louis had been longing for a swim for several days. He’d asked permission for a midnight dip in the pool before we left for Frenchmen Street, and as soon as we got back he slipped into his sexy swimsuit surf shorts and got into the water. He fired up a cigar and got into a semi-relaxing pose, floating on his back while puffing on the stogie - and then went on to shoot video greetings to the peeps back home.

Louis chillin’ in the pool after dark

Selma wasn’t as thrilled about a midnight pool party, but donned her bikini and swam a few laps just to be able to brag about it later. But she soon got up, and had a quick shower while Louis kept playing in the water. Then she went back out and sat down with her Mac by the poolside - the only place she was able to pick up a wifi signal.

Eventually, Louis had had enough of being king of the pool and went in for a shower. He said he’d come back out, so Selma stayed outside and continued blogging. But as it got cold and the battery on the Mac ran out, with no show of Louis, she went to look for him - and found him sprawling on the bed, sound asleep.

At Sunday May 6th, we got up as usual and checked out. Our plan for the day was to see some more of Memphis, and then head south through Mississippi on the Blues Highway.

The first stop was Sun studios, the recording birthplace of Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison, Johnny Cash and others. As we’d already experienced several times during the trip, it was weird to stand in front of such a well known façade and feel the spirit of times passed. We went inside and had a look around, but decided we didn’t have time to join the tour of the studio (despite the hilarious portrayal of the tour guide in Mystery Train. But we did, of course, take a lot of pictures:

Brad posing in front of Sun Studio, Memphis

Next up was a visit to the old Lorraine Motel, now housing the National Civil Rights Museum. This is where Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated on April 4th, 1968, the day after he gave his “I’ve been to the Mountaintop” address. The hotel (or at least MLK’s room) is kept more or less as it was that day, with the Dodge and Cadillac parked outside like they were in the photographs taken shortly after the murder. Also parked outside is a female protester, who’s been protesting against the museum for more than 19 years (she’d rather see the old motel, and the money spent on the museum, used for public housing). We snapped the mandatory photos and continued our express Memphis sightseeing.

King quote at the Lorraine Motel

On our way to the last official stop in Memphis, we decided to drive by Beale Street to see it in a more “normal” state. But like the day before, it was crowded with people. It’s probably never deserted, but with the Beale Street Music Festival going on, the entire downtown area is rather chaotic. And even as much fun as the festival was, it somewhat bereft us of the true Memphis experience. But never mind. There’s one rock solid experience in Memphis, and we were on our way to it: Graceland.

Neither of us are huge Elvis fans, but Graceland is a must-see, also because of the whole lollapalooza built around it. And really, it must be one of the best most effective organized tours in the world. From the minute you park the car, you are guided around - first into the ticket office, then into a trolley line where headphones and audio guides are handed out. The trolley took us across the Elvis Presley Boulevard and through the gates of the Graceland mansion. Well inside, we were lead on a fast speed tour through the different rooms and houses, with the audio guide steering our attention left and right - leaving us with a feeling of seeing a lot without really seeing anything. But we’re not complaining, they really catered to our expectations, and running around with other gawking tourists is part of the experience. Besides, we did manage to take in a few details - like the fact that a huge amount of the gold- and platinum records on display were from Norway!

The grave of Elvis Presleyl

After paying our respect at the graves of the King and his family (by not stepping at the tombs for better photo shots) and adding our tags to the brick wall surrounding Graceland, we got into the car and aimed for Mississippi - whistling along to the tunes of “Walking in Memphis“, which was playing on the radio….

We went down the Highway 61, also known as the (Delta) Blues highway, and drove through flat fields of green along the Mississippi river (but alas, we didn’t see much of the river itself). A detour onto a narrow road in the corn fields to check out an old shack (for a possible photo session) resulted in a near-emergency as we almost got stuck in the mud. But fortunately, Louis managed to get us back on the highway with no other damage done than a ton of mud covering the lower parts of our car. And for once, we were very satisfied with the Volvo Cross Country - Swedish and boring as it may be, it sure is able to get you out of deep shit. Literally.

Our car was covered in mud after a detour into the corn fields

Clarksdale, Mississippi

After a while, we reached the small town of Clarksdale, where, according to the myth, Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil. The “official” crossroad itself is just a tiny triangle of grass, a tree or two, a light pole - and a sign with three crossing blue guitars and markers for the highways 61 and 49.

Then we drove around for a while, trying to find the Delta Blues Museum and the Ground Zero blues club (owned by the actor Morgan Freeman) - two of the other tourist attractions in this small town. They were supposedly right next to each other, and we had the addresses and a fairly bad map from the cached homepage (we weren’t able to get online) - but Kitty couldn’t find the street in her system. So we went up and down streets, looking left and right. And that was an interesting sightseeing in and of itself. It’s easy to accept that the Blues originated from this area, by looking at the poverty and the general decay.

Crossroads. And that’s about it.

We finally found the Delta Blues Museum. It was closed. We thought Monday was the typical day of closed museums, but in Mississippi, Sunday is obviously the sabbatical day. We walked across a tiny grass field over to a run down building housing the Ground Zero blues club. Which was also closed. These were two of Louis’ most anticipated visits, and now both got spoiled by an unfortunate choice of days. Disappointed and pouting we drove over to a nearby Wal-Mart and had a boring late lunch at the parking lot.

Selma’s traveling friends (who were a few days ahead of us on this part of the trip) had warned us about the sad state of Clarksdale, and suggested that we continued down to Leland, one hour further south. So we did. There’s a blues museum there as well. Closed. There’s a Muppet museum (a big success with my friends). Also closed. So we resigned in our attempt to get any stimulation from the Delta, and sat course for Vicksburg further down the blues highway.

Sunset along the Mississippi river

Vicksburg, Mississippi

It started to get late as we drove into Vicksburg. And the place seemed totally deserted. No people, no cars, no sign of life. We saw a motel sign, but as we got closer, all we found was a huge, empty parking lot. We turned to our Rough guide, and found a list of B&Bs in the area. The first one was obviously closed. But at the second one we finally met some people. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any suitable rooms available, but they were very helpful and friendly! Obviously we were getting close to the Southern hospitality again! First they called around to the other B&Bs in the area to see if they had any rooms for the night, but without any luck. Then they gave us a pamphlet with a map and facts about Vicksburg, and told us to go to the end of Clay Street - the main road that we’d been driving up and down earlier.

As we drove all the way to the end of Clay Street, we came to a familiar place. A place we’d been many times before. We arrived at the “Freeway village” - the typical clutter of hotels, motels and fast food joints scattered along the freeways all over the US, and that look almost the same everywhere you go. If we weren’t so bummed out about all the “closed” signs we’d seen all day, we probably would have thought of looking for the freeway. So that’s a tip for those of you reading this and planning to go on a trip across the US for yourselves: If you’re following some of the smaller highways and need a room for the night, head over to the nearest freeway and look for the villages around the exits!

We ended up at a Comfort Inn, with reasonable prices, a friendly staff and a clean room. It was very hot and humid outside, even though it was starting to get late. They had a swimming pool next to the parking lot, and Louis was eager to take a dive into it to cool off. Unfortunately, we just missed the opening hours for the pool, so we had to settle for the air conditioned room instead. And it sure got cold! The air conditioner was so effective that we had to turn it off as we went to sleep. But it would probably have been smarter to just turn it down a notch or two, ’cause as we woke up the next day, our room was boiling hot!

(The pictures have been up for a while over at Flickr…)

It’s been a fantastic adventure! We’ve seen cities and countrysides, forests and deserts, mountains and beaches, famous landmarks and unknown beauty, pieces of the stereotypical, tourist trap USA as well as places few Norwegians (heck, even Americans) have visited before, we’ve seen a bunch of hotel rooms that looked exactly the same (and a few that didn’t look like any room we’ve seen before), we’ve seen the luxury of Beverly Hills and the tragedy of the ghettos. We’ve seen the sun almost every day (we can’t complain about three and a half days of rain in six weeks!), we’ve seen some beautiful sunsets, we’ve seen how the forest fires can smog up the blue skies miles and miles away, we’ve been on the edge of a pre-season hurricane without even noticing, we’ve seen terrible weather forecasts for every other part of the USA but the one we’ve been in at the time. We have experienced more than we’ll ever be able to sum up in this blog.

We’ve enjoyed the ride, but now we both look forward to getting home. Selma can’t wait to get back to her girlfriend, and Louis can’t wait to get away from the “Oooh, I miss Cathrine” talk. And it will be good for the both of us to get back home to our friends and families, jobs and regular lives.

We did, of course, travel further than to Memphis. But we’ve been lagging behind on the blogging, and in addition to having a hectic schedule, it’s been hard to find the extra energy to sit down and recapture events taking place a week ago.

But - we know that a lot of people are reading this blog - some people we know well, some we’ve met along the road - and some that we haven’t met (yet?!). And we actually get quite a few hits from people searching for travel information about the places we’ve visited. (And you’re all welcome to write a short little “I’m reading!” to the comments below, so we can see just who’s behind those numbers in the statistics..)

And this blog will be a great way for us to remember what we did, saw and experienced on our trip (and believe me - the memories fade fast when you keep adding to the vault every day!). So - Selma will post reports and upload pictures from the last remaining days (New Orleans, the Florida panhandle, Key West and New York - and some stops along the way) as we get home (but be patient - there’s some snuggling to catch up on first!). And Louis has promised to translate it all into Norwegian.

So - we’ll be back with more. Eventually.

The Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in Nashville

We walked around according to the prearranged route, and was taken through the history of Country music, with lots of musical samples and country memorabilia - from way back and up until the country stars of today. At the moment they also have an exhibit of the life and music of Ray Charles - honoring his contribution to the country genre. Neither of us are country freaks, but it was an interesting presentation of the different influences that created and honed the country music genre.

Ray Charles exhibit at The Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum

The actual Hall of Fame was a weird display, located in a rotunda in one end of the museum. Each artist was honored with a plaque, displaying their name, date of entry to the Hall of fame, and a portrait. But we didn’t see one single portrait that resembled the said artist, so I wouldn’t bet that the sculptor made it to a hall of fame himself.

Guess who…

Just as we’d planned, the rain had stopped when we got back out, and the sun was shining again. We walked up and down Broadway, stopping by a few stores - and Louis picked up another hat.

Then we hit the road, and aimed for Memphis - a three hour drive without much to see along the road. We got there around six, and Kitty lead us to our hotel - about three miles outside of downtown Memphis. We checked in, drove down into the parking garage, gathered all our bags and went to take the elevator up to our room on the fifth floor. Selma was keeping the elevator door open while Louis locked up the car, and boom! All the lights went off, and it got dead silent. It was pitch dark, so Selma had to fire up her lighter to help Louis find the way over to the elevator. Which was not, of course, working. And we were SO happy that we weren’t caught inside it! But there was no way we’d walk up seven flights of stairs with all our luggage, so we just dragged it all up two floors to the lobby, and waited there until the power got back. We later found out that someone had driven into a light pole, resulting in a power outage for the entire block.

We don’t have a photo of the blackout, ’cause it was.. well, dark. But here’s another one from the Country Music Hall of Fame:

Striking resemblance?

When the lights finally went back on, we locked our luggage into the room and got a cab downtown. We knew the Beale Street Music Festival was going on, but we had not expected the massive attendance! The festival was taking place in a closed area down by the Mississippi riverfront, but the streets outside the area was filled with people - and music - as well. We bought tickets ($30 each, not bad!) and started walking through the festival area. It had four stages, and it was probably about 2 miles from the first to the last. We stopped for a while at the second stage, where a youngster punk band was belting out some aggressive tunes. then returned to the first stage for some swingin’ blues by a guy/band called the Taj Mahal (strange name for a blues band..). It was really hot, and even after the sun went down (into the Mississippi, which was a great experience in itself) it was well into the upper eighties.

From the Beale Street Music Festival in Memphis (we weren’t allowed to bring our pro cams..)

After a while, we went back to the second stage to see Wolfmother, one of Louis’ current favorites. This is really not Selma’s kind of music, but she tried to enjoy the hot summer night and watching the crowds. When Wolfmother was almost done, we walked down to the fourth stage to see the opening show of Steely Dan’s tour. None of us are familiar with this music, but we’re familiar with the name and figured it was worth checking out. The band playing before Steely Dan went on for ever and ever, so by the time Steely D got on stage, we were pretty tired. We left after two songs, and hoped to find a cab before the hoardes started venturing home.

Party people and preachers in Beale Street

We walked a mile or so towards Beale without seeing any cabs, not even occupied ones. But there were people everywhere. We walked through part of Beale street, just to feel the pulse, and it was like walking through a sea of people. Partying people. And - a few bible thumpers, causing a stir amongst those most eager to fight for their right to part-ey! We still didn’t see any cabs, so we just kept walking in what we hoped was the direction of our hotel. There were people everywhere, traffic both in and out of downtown was packed - and there were NO cabs around. Finally, after walking for about an hour, we managed to pull over a taxi and get back to the hotel.

At the hotel, people were partying in the lobby and in the halls, but we shut the door and got to bed - and with the calming (well, actually annoying) sound of the air condition distracting us from the parties around us, we eventually managed to sleep.

The main entrance of the Jack Daniel’s Distillery

The tours at the distillery are really well organized. The visitors are arranged into numbered tour groups and taken around the lot. First we got to see a movie about the history of the Tennessee whiskey. Then we got on a trolley bus, and after having our tour photo taken, we were led into the compound of the distillery. We were guided from building to building, and our tour guide (William?) told us about the process from spring water to the finished product.

To those of you planning to visit the distillery for a free buzz; you will not get one. The only thing served was a lemonade at the end of the tour. But you will be able to take a deep whiff at one of the stills, near the end of the process (or several whiffs, like some of our tour mates) - and that might make you feel dizzy for a few minutes.

Sniff, sniff..

After checking out the JD Nascar copy they have at the distillery, we drove two blocks down to the JD store right next to the factory. Louis was looking for a shirt he’d seen several other places, and figured he’d find it at the one true Jack Daniel’s store - but no such luck. So he bought a wallet instead (which pleased Selma, who’s been worried that he’d loose his plastic bus card holder that has served as a wallet thus far).

Then we continued towards Nashville. And we hadn’t been long on the road before the rain started pouring down. It wasn’t much to see along the road, and Selma took the opportunity to take a nap - as Louis drove her safely into town (with some help and company from Kitty, that is).

We’ve had so little rain on this trip, that it was worth taking a picture of it

As we got into Nashville, we stopped by a Best Buy store. It was time to erase some photos from the Mac, but paranoid Selma wanted to make sure nothing got lost, and bought a new external hard drive (in addition to, and just like, the one Louis got in Boston).

Then we drove the last miles to our hotel for the night, The Days Inn stadium. It was located ten minutes outside of downtown Nashville, but our seventh floor room had panorama windows with a clear view of the Nashville skyline. We quickly settled in and hailed a cab down to Broadway, where many of the bars and souvenir shops are located. We sat down at Rippy’s, right next to an open window, and as the food got on the table, the rain outside turned from bad to worse. But it was still nice and warm by the window, and we got a few really cool shots of the wet streets of Nashville.

The best thing about the rain: It makes for great reflection shots!

The rain kept us from walking too much around, and probably made the streets emptier than usual. But we got to check out a few of the bars down on Broadway. At The Stage, the band on stage kept the crowd stomping their feet and singing along, and it was fun to observe how the cowboys and cowgals let loose on a Friday night! The singer cracked a few good jokes as well, which made us stay longer than our country tolerance level would normally accept.

But then Louis got hungry for some blues, so we walked a few blocks (in the rain) to check out the B.B. King’s Blues Bar. But what was played in there was nothing like blues, so we didn’t bother to pay the cover charge to enter. Instead, we walked back to Broadway and into a karaoke bar called the Wanna-B’s. Louis figured he had to give the young country-lovin’ punks a history lesson, and got up and sang Sympathy for the Devil by the Rolling Stones. So now he’s been on stage in Nashville - which should compensate for the rehearsal time he’s missed while on this trip.

After setting Nashville straight, our job was done. We got a cab back to our hotel, and jumped to bed.