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Saturday
I get up at 8.30 as I need to pack-up and check out without an hour and of course I have a hangover that could slay a walrus. I've had 3 hours sleep and those tequila shots with some of the guys from the hostel in the trendy part of Brooklyn last night with hindsight weren't the greatest idea. Once I finally get to the airport after a replacement bus service, subway trip, local bus and Hertz courtesy bus I had to deal with the difficult task of reversing 8 years of driving. The narrow roads around the airport weren't helping matters as I still hadn't got to grips with my lane position and added to that my economizing had led to me not adding the sat nav and I didn't have any road maps. Rather than driving straight to Syracuse, my next destination, I took an exciting detour to Albany which rather added to my journey, although I didn't really care that much in the end as fuel was cheap and I was just happy to get onto a round that would eventually get me there. When I got to the Hostel I was greeted by a woman calling herself 'Sunshine' who had bells attached to her ankles. I would later realize this was quite useful if I ever needed to locate her, or avoid her if I was doing something not in-keeping with the Hostelling International (HI) rules - which could have been anything. The hostel itself was previously a mansion owned by a Salt Merchant, that in the interim has also been used for student accommodation. There was a lot of stained glass and Oak staircases and it was a place that wasn't to be messed about in. My initial euphoria of finding they had ESPN to watch the England game on, was soon dampened by the news that there was a lock out during the day from 10 to 5. I was sure how many people the hostel could have accommodated, however I was fairly sure there was only a handful of people there.
Sunday
I was woken up by room mate reminding me about the lock out at 9.15 and that I might wish to consider getting a wash / having breakfast before getting turfed out. I did this and then went on the search for a bar in which to watch the game in the sleepy town of Syracuse. Unfortunately for me the US has got knocked out the day before and even the Irish bars had given up opening earl to show the games. Eventually once kick off time had elapsed I found a bar where they were cleaning up from the night before, kindly asked if they would show the game then installed myself at the bar. I then had 90 minutes of sheer horror as England got pasted by the Germans and I had to tell the cleaner periodically what the score was. He was either partially sighted and couldn't see the screen or was either reveling in my misery. As a thank you for playing the game I stayed longer and got some excellent buffalo wings. They told me the 2 litres of Coke I had drank was on the house though, which I was rather pleased about, so I left them a decent tip for once.
Monday
My time at Downing Hostel had come to an end. Sadly Sunshine wasn't on hand to say good bye - just another girl I had never spoken to wished me well. I arrived at Buffalo around midday and just about managed to catch the reception before they disappeared as they sometimes do during the middle of the day. The hostel reminded me of a hospital - quite sterile and not a lot going on. It did however have couple of guitars to play in the common room and a pretty decent kitchen. Buffalo was a pretty strange town. It is built as though it's a massive town, however the centre, other than being open 9 - 5 for office workers and a small number of shops, is largely empty during the evening and you have to explore the suburbs for any kind of nightlife. The main industry in the town had been Steel, however following the closure of the city's main plants and it no longer being a major shipping route, it shrunk and become more reliant of Financial, Heath and Education industries. One particularly amusing point about the city is that they have recently started playing classical music in the tram stops to drive away crack heads.
Tuesday
In the morning I drove to Niagara Falls and in doing so gave a lift to a diminutive French born translator from San Francisco in her 50s, named Dominique. By this stage in the trip my navigating by using the force was actually starting to work, which I couldn't figure out whether this was due to ESP or the law of averages. It was only $13.50 for a ticket for the maid of the list tour in which you get into a boat and go to the base of the falls and its probably the best money I've ever spent. Then we were able to climb up the side of one of the smaller falls and get drenched which is always fun. I got back to Buffalo and was delighted to find it was good for cheap booze so got myself a pack of Budweiser substitutes 'Busch Light.' Unfortunately half of these froze sold due to the hostel's over zealous fridge though. I was amused to find the drink was located in the 'Well Being Section' of the drug store and was obviously delight that Lager was going to have some sort of medicinal properties. The woman at the till of the drug store asked me when my birthday was - I told but then added it would probably be a logistical nightmare sending me a card as I could be anywhere, but thanked her all the same. One observation from US shops is that they like putting the words 'No Entrance' on the exit door.
Wednesday
I went to visit the town of Niagara on the Lake with my last day with the car. Niagara is very much a picture postcard town - quaint and well groomed, it has a plethora of tea rooms, small B&Bs and arty type shops as well as an English Scottish store. This was pretty amusing as it seemed that most Canadian's windows into English culture would mostly consist of watching Monarch of the Glen and Inspector Morse whilst wearing a top hat and monocle. But at least it sold Yorkshire Tea which was something I had decided I was willing to pay any amount of money for. After that I had my first real run in with immigration types as I had discovered upon re-entering the US that they had not stapled my Visa Waiver thing into my passport, so I had to pay $6 for the privilege of them asking me probing questions about my trip and paying $4 for the privilege. Considering this was a country that already had photographs of me from various angles, had a record of my arrival and all my finger prints I found it somewhat perverse that they would rely so much on a slip of paper. At least the board patrol lot were slightly more personable than those at the airport, although that was not hard. Later on I dropped off the car - 2 hours late but luckily the fact I was an all round nice guy and told the chap at Hertz that the car had a slow puntcher had meant I avoided an extra day's fee. Giving back the car did come as something of a relief as it probably reduced the amount of things I could be arrested for by 50% and also meant I didn't have to continue feeding the meter in Buffalo with quarters. But the little Nissan had served me well and I'd driven over 1,000 miles for about $60 in petrol.
That evening, dismayed by the lack of travelers in the hostel with whom I converse with I went out on a one man mission to find a good bar. After about a mile's walk, I found a bar on Allen street named after a German philosopher. Got talking to a fair few locals and people from visiting from other US towns. They had a live band on whose name I can't remember, although the instruments were as follows: Accordion, Mandolin, Ukulele, Double Bass and Cardboard Box. Yes… Cardboard box. They were quite sort of gravely with a sort of rumba beat that was quite soleful. The girl singing was like a sort of talented Amy Winehouse. They did a cover of Jo Lean and the theme from The Wire. They even had an accordion solo part way through some of the songs - brilliant.
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