New England, and USA overview

There seems to be a point you reach traveling when enthusiasm begins to wane, and you feel you are going through the motions. I started to feel a bit like that in Boston, where it rained torrentially for the first couple of days. Most cities would probaby be a little underwhelming after New York, and at first that was my impression of its rival to the north. But it's funny how the sunshine can make you see things from a different perspective. Suddenly the city seemed alive and worth exploring. My friend Linda and I took advantage of that by going on the Freedom Trail and swanning around leafy Harvard on Graduation Day. We even got a tour from a graduate called Orad, a friend of Linda's sister. He told us some inner secrets of the Ivy League school and showed us (but wasn't allowed to let us inside) his futuristic science lab. Orad was an knowledgable and passionate guide, traits he has put to good use in his own travel guide of his home city Montreal, which we would later use. From Harvard we walked along the Charles River, past MIT, and back towards the city, which was glowing in the half-light of the setting sun. Unfortunately I was too skint to join Linda the next day at the highly recommended Cape Cod in eastern Massachusetts, but it was nice to meet up with Maggie, a Boston native that I know from Iona years back. She was pleased to hear that the following night we were off to legendary Fenway Park to see the Red Sox. "America's most beloved ballpark" is also its second oldest, and has a magical sort of atmosphere. I didn't really understand the scoring system but it was clear that the Red Sox were unforunately soundly beaten. More interesting than the action itself was simply observing everything going on around us, from the buzz of the crowd, to the hoardes of iconic hot dog sellers, to the obligatory marriage proposal.

From Boston it was onwards to Portsmouth, New Hamphsire, the third oldest town in the United States. In this lovely seaport town we stayed with friends of my Mum's friend, a couple in their thirties named Kierstyn and Peter. They were really kind, fun, and easy to get along with, and though she definitely enjoyed having us, Kierstyn seemed a little taken aback that I had never met the mutual friend Marsha, apparently one of the most influential people in her life. I had already stayed with Marsha's son in Baltimore and her best friend in Boston, so high on my to-do list when I get home is to meet and thank her in person. On our first night we attended a party at their friend's beach house in the state of Maine, which is less than a mile across the water from Portsmouth. Of all America's coastlines, New England is the most reminiscent of Britain's, and a beautiful setting for a bonfire on the beach. The next day we cycled with Kierstyn and Peter to nearby waters for some kayaking, and rounded off the day with a screening of Invictus in their back garden, projected against their garage wall. We were joined by their friend Dave, and Kierstyn's mum and step-dad Gene, a spunky Vietnam War veteran. During one of the trailers Dave facetiously commented, "Sounds like some commie shit to me, huh Gene?" "Hell, yeah!", came the reply.

Kierstyn seemed quite different from the rest of her family, but still had a great relationship with all of them, as we saw at her mum and Gene's place for a Memorial Day gathering, where everything was decorated with red, white and blue and the flag flew proudly outside. I won't second-guess their political leanings, but the rest of her family were very much "Middle America". In contrast, Kierstyn and Peter are vegaan/vegetarian, interested in sustainability, and generally lead a more alternative lifetsyle. Yet unlike one or two other people I've encountered on my travels, they weren't at all snooty or self-serving about it, but just a pleasure to be around. Kierstyn has done social work, and is writing a PhD on linking sustainability with social justice and its relationship to race, class and so on, which I thought was really cool. The one thing that stopped Portsmouth from being my favourite smaller town, which Linda pointed out and I agreed with, was the prevailing wealthy conservative feel of the place. With the hilarious state motto of "Live Free or Die", one should expect that of New Hampshire, and it was virtually the only place I visited where there were one or two Mitt Romney posters around. On the other hand, Obama's image and name is plastered everywhere across the country. His beaming grin even dons the walls of various iconic restauarants, where he seemingly spends all of his time visiting. You would think there is only one winner come November, but then I didn't venture to the Midwest or to much of the Deep South...

By Day 90 in America I was required to be out of the country, so we caught a bus to Montreal. My time in the United States ended as it had begun, with a grilling at customs. US Immigration is a horrible place, and seemingly Canada's is no less unpleasant. Both officers both glared at me with this disgusted expression on their face as if they'd just caught the guy threatening to blow up parliament, which immediately made me very nervous and defensive. We had arranged to stay with a couchsurfer in Montreal, whom we'd obviously never met, but I thought explaining that might be more trouble than it was worth. Not so.

"Where are you going in Canada?"
"Montreal and Toronto"
"Who are you staying with in Montreal?"
"Er, a friend."
"A friend? How do you know this friend?"
"I, er -"
"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

I was starting to feel ready to go home.

Suffice to say, I got into Canada. After a couple of days in Montreal, Linda went to see friends in Ottawa and Toronto, before flying home. I met my friend Johanna and we spent a bit more time in the city. I spent my final stop in Toronto with my Mum's cousin, Lesley, and her family, staying with her son Calum, his wife Rachel, and their three year-old son, Malcolm. It was great to see them all, and a relaxing way to finish traveling. But feeling tired of blogging, I've decided to keep this an exclusively American account.

* * *

Perhaps the most recurring question I've been asked over the last three months has been, appropriately, "What do you think America?" Often people have said how interested they are to get an outsider's perspective, and sometimes they've let out a nervous laugh as if bracing themselves for the worst. In response, it might be tempting to reel off some cliches, partly because many of them are true to a degree. But my most abiding impression of the country, in a word, would be "variety". Although in many ways a very conservative nation, the USA is also truly an "anything goes" sort of place - to me it feels more libertarian than anything else - where no matter how left-field or unconventional or extreme one's attitudes and lifestyle, there will be room to express it and find like-minded others. It may not be reflected in the mainstream media or politcial status quo (though sometimes is!), but the diversity of people, places, lifestyles, and attitudes is remarkable, and often surreally juxtaposed.

If this seeming freedom of expression sounds like an affirmation of the American Dream, economically things are a much different story. The growing gap between the super-rich minority and the population en masse has been articulated most prominently by the Occupy protests, but even at a less polarised scale, wealth inequality is very tangible. While it is obvious there is lots of money around, the breadth of the standard of living doesn't feel that high. The scarcity of food options in many neighbourhoods is a notable indicator. Cheap, packaged fast food predominates, especially in poorer areas. In many urban neighbourhoods it is difficult to find a grocery store that sells fruit and vegetables, real cheese, decent bread, or eggs that are not sold in massive bulk. The same could probably be said for cities in many other developed nations, but the disparity is certainly more pronounced in the United States than anywhere else I've been. It's little wonder there is a bad health and obesity epidemic when many people do not have these dietary staples readily available to them.

Some of course would deny the influence of wider socio-economic factors in people's diets, arguing that poor health is solely a personal choice issue. Such attitudes are just one example of the individualistic ethos which pervades myriad aspects of American society. The 'tipping' culture is another such manifestation. It often feels like waiters and bartenders are chasing every dollar when they serve you. At times I felt a bit uncomfortable how gushingly friendly they were, checking that I was being "looked after" adaquately every 5 or 10 minutes. Minimum wage is sometimes pitifully low and people rely on good tips to get by, so I don't begrudge them even on the occasions it feels insincere. In general though, I definitely found Americans' renowned friendliness to be very evident, and also genuine. Self-confidence is another consistent characteristic among the wide range of Americans I've encountered. Most people I've met have admirable enthusiasm and drive whatever it is they do, without being at all arrogant or irritating. I've very seldom heard anyone moan or complain. It is definitely noticable in comparison to the self-deprecation and fatalism that often prevails in the UK.

As for their perceptions of my trip, most people have been impressed, and remark that traveling around the States is not something most Americans would ever consider, as Europe is the place of intrigue for them. A few were a little alarmed for my safety, two people even asked if I was carrying a weapon for protection against all the "wack-jobs" out there. A supermarket bagger in Memphis asked if I had a knife, but that was probably in reference to the peanut butter and bread I'd just bought. Maybe I was just lucky, but I never felt seriously threatened at any point in my three months in the country, beyond an occasionaly anxiety when arriving in a new place at night. For all the crazy stuff that happens in America, I think it's made some people a bit paranoid.

After learning where I'm from, most people's faces lit up with enthusiasm and curiousity. Sometimes people said something like, "Oh my God, I'm 90% Scottish!" This doesn't mean that their parents are from Scotland; it probably means that a century or so ago one of their great grandmothers came off the boat from some place they've forgotten the name of. But this sense of dual nationality is right at the heart of North American identity. America (or Canada), is the given, people often strongly associating themselves with the nation of their ancestors. In their own mind-bogglingly large and eclectic country, maybe it helps distinguish themselves a little more from the crowd, providing a more focused sense of belonging in addition to the omnipresent USA. That said, Americans often refer to "Europe" as a whole rather than to specific countries within it. That's understandable, the USA and Europe are of comparable size - it takes as long to go from state to state as country to country. Most Americans seem unaware of how socially and culturally different European nations are to one another, particularly the UK and mainland western Europe. It surprises people to hear that many Brits do not identify themselves at all with Europe, a two week summer holiday perhaps being their biggest exposure to "the continent". An American might make a comment about their trip to Ireland, then qualify it with "but you must know all about that". Or while expressing embarassment about American ineptness in foreign languages, say "You guys must know French and German, though, being so close" We probably should, yes, but that's a different story.

Unsurprisingly, most people's knowledge of Scotland is rather scant. I've been asked about Braveheart (or Trainspotting); kilts; Highland games; Nessie; haggis; though pretty much always tongue-in-cheek. People have been very eager and genuinely interested and curious to learn more about a place they see as almost mythical. The few who have been all loved the country, one or two even saying its the most beautiful place they've ever visited. And I needn't have worried about Scotland being thought of as part of London or England, or anything exasperating like that. In fact most North Americans think that Britain and England are the same place, with Scotland as a separate entity altogether. Ill-informed that may be, it doesn't irritate me as much, and, culturally, I think there is a lot of truth in it. It still irks me slightly though to see the Union Jack on Euro 2012 posters in pubs, or hear Independence Hall tour guides in Philadelphia use "British" and "English" interchangably. Perhaps it's not worth correcting them, who knows, by Autumn 2014 what I tell them might be incorrect anyway. It's enough to make Alex Salmond giddy at the thought. (Incidentally, good friends of mine on a similar trip around the States a few years ago happened to bump into Salmond, in Times Square no less, yet in 90 days in America, I didn't meet a single fellow Scot.)

In my first blog post, I pondered how the things I found fascinating about the USA would square with all the negative conceptions of the country. There is certainly much that is vivid and exhilirating about the nation, but it is hidden beneath and jostles for space with the worst excesses of capitalism, consumerism, and entitlement. Often being on the road one comes across more that is ugly and colourless than mythologised Americana. But in between it all are some of the most amazing places and fantastic people. Traveling around and writing about another country has in some ways made me identify even more with my own. Spending time in such a fervently patriotic place as America, and various conversations along the way, have prompted me to reflect upon what it actually means to be proud of one's country. Nations are social constructs after all, coincidences of birth, which at the worst of times can blind people from essential humanity. A country might be an imagined entity, but its culture, land, and, perhaps, history, are what people grow up knowing and being familiar with. And that clearly means something.