Saying goodbye to Atlanta and coming home...

Well, it was time to head home and the prospect of a night flight was pretty daunting. Why? Because I can't sleep on planes and it means foregoing a night's sleep. I was flying on BA226 from Atlanta to London Heathrow and, well, it was horrible.

For a start, turbulence. I hate turbulence, but it never seems to bother ANYONE else on the plane. Other passengers happily carry on conversation, read newspapers, even queue for the toilets, while I grip hard on the seat in front of me and sweat profusely. Cloud normally brings turbulence and that's another reason why I don't like night flights: I can't see the clouds out there. I only choose a window seat because I like to see what's going on. And if there's turbulence, by looking out of the window (during the day) I can at least comfort myself with the knowledge that the plane is in an upright position.

The problem with a window seat, of course, is that your general freedom is curtailed. If you want to get up and stretch your legs, you tend not to, because you don't want to disturb your fellow passengers, who, invariably, are asleep. How can they sleep? So I sat there, feeling very uncomfortable throughout the journey.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, there were quite a few bumpy bits coming over and then, when we reached the airspace over Heathrow, we had to circle a dozen or so times before landing. I took the Express into Paddington, then the Bakerloo to Victoria and a train home, where, thankfully, a lift awaited me. I've had a nap and now I ought to be heading off to bed, but I've got to finish my blog coverage of the trip and this is it.

Here, then, is a collection of photos with brief explanations of what they are.

Inside Tap, a real ale bar on Peachtree and 14th, Atlanta.

The photo on the left was taken in Tap, a gastro pub in Atlanta on Peachtree and 14th. It was here that my pal Sean Seymour, his fiance Joan and myself met for a lunch time beer on the day I flew back to Atlanta. There's some good beers here, both local brews and foreign stuff – even Old Speckled Hen from the UK. Bombardier too and, of course, Guinness from Ireland. But the best beers were the locally brewed varieties from companies such as Sweetwater, to name but one. Very, very nice beers and I could have sat there all afternoon enjoying a few more.

Tap's blackboard menu.

In fact, the next photograph shows a blackboard of special beers, including Old Speckled Hen. There's also an extensive list of other beers, a kind of beer menu, and there's food available too.

What I loved about Atlanta was the climate: it was hot and according to most of the people I spoke to out there, the weather's always good. They tend not to get snow, but can get ice during the winter months (December through March) but by March the weather is normally good again.

A shot of Peachtree, opposite Tap.

The Marta – I wouldn't take it late at night.

The shot on the left is of a general street scene at Peachtree and 14th, just across the road from Tap. You can see the bright sunshine and can just imagine how most people have a bright outlook as a result. Is it no wonder that in places were there is very little sunlight - think northern Scandinavia and Alaska – there are drink-related social issues? In the UK this year, we've had very little in the way of summer and it's depressing. I was feeling decidedly upbeat in Atlanta, mainly because of the sunny weather. it makes you feel good.

More of a tea 'sack' than a tea 'bag'.

I've mentioned the Marta in a previous post and ok, it doesn't have a brilliant press and people I spoke to said if you ride it, just don't catch people's eye. Well, there are a few 'undesirables' riding the Marta but it's the cheapest way to get from one end of town to the other, especially the airport, so I took it from Lenox, using a Breeze card. I didn't encounter any problems.

Whenever I fly off anywhere I always get to the airport miles too early and spend my time shuffling around the terminal looking in shop windows, flicking through books and then having a coffee somewhere. I stopped at a place on Atlanta airport, beyond passport control, and ordered a grilled chicken roll and a cup of tea. What amazed my about the tea was the size of the teabag – not so much a tea 'bag', but more a tea 'sack'. Just look at the size of it (see pic).

This shot sums up Atlanta for me: sunshine and skyscrapers

Tap is located at the junction with Peachtree St and 14th.

And that just about rounds up my trip to Montreal and Atlanta. They were both great cities for different reasons and while I liked Montreal because you could literally walk for miles and ride for miles too, Atlanta had the weather and I've always loved the Americans. The best hotel of the trip was the Holiday Inn, Montreal, but the best service went to the Marriott where the front desk staff were simply excellent – friendly, helpful and prepared to go out on a limb for their guests. The Holiday Inn offered free wifi in the rooms, which was great. Having to trek down to the reception to use my laptop was a bit of a pain.

• Postscript: One thing I NEVER saw in Montreal, by the way, was a Kona bicycle. Everything else: Trek, Specialized and so on, but no Kona bikes. Why? That's a question for the guys at Kona (it's a Canadian bike company).

Rain stops my swim...so I'm off to the mall

I had planned to take a dip in the Atlanta Marriott's outdoor pool, but it was raining this morning and has only just stopped. The rain, of course, has cooled things down a little, which is good, but I'm now checked out of the hotel and at a loose end until I fly off later on today. So, I'm sitting in the hotel reception area, considering a walk across to the Lenox Mall and then I might stroll down to Peachtree and 14th where there's a bar called Tap. I'm going to meet Sean for a quick beer. He's at work so it's a lunchtime drink, and then I'll probably hit the mall again before getting the Marta down to the airport.

Marriott Atlanta reception looking out on Lenox.

I know, I was told that the Marta attracts a lot of undesirable types and yes, it does, but it's fast and it takes me straight to the airport. The alternative is an expensive cab ride. I haven't actually checked how much the cab will cost, but I'm guessing around $50 or more so the Marta it is!

The rain's stopped, but it's a little cloudy out there, but still warm. There's something unappealing about swimming in the rain so I didn't bother. Shame as it would have rounded off the trip. I couldn't cycle here as there are no Bixi bike equivalents. Or rather there might be, but they'll be downtown and I'm in Buckhead.

The mall is appealing, though. Might get a coffee and a bun and do a spot of people watching. Or I could stroll down to Peachtree and 14th. Not sure, but either way, I'm now going to sign off. The photograph accompanying this post is of the hotel's reception area – or a bit of it.

On second thoughts...

... I might have been a little harsh on Atlanta. My pal and former work colleague Sean Seymour, by a strange coincidence, now lives over here so we agreed to meet up for dinner. He kindly paid, which was nice, and he brought along his fiance, who is American. She told me that the Marta was a bit wayward as far as the passengers are concerned – I'll be cabbing it back to the airport – but that generally Atlanta was fine, especially the district where my hotel was located, which is the business district of town.

Atlanta's business district at night.

We went out to Houston's, a steak restaurant down the road from the hotel. That's one big problem with being here: meat! I've eaten nothing but (and the same in Montreal) and today was no exception. I might meet Sean again tomorrow for lunch as I've got a day just hanging around waiting for a BA flight  that leaves around 2100hrs, arriving back in the UK at 1000hrs. I can't say I'm looking forward to it.

I've just come back from Phipps' Mall, a mall full of big names: Versace, Jimmy Choo, all the big brands. I bought a cheap pair of trunks purely because it's 100deg F and there's an outdoor pool upstairs somewhere. After that I'll probably meet Sean and then start thinking about making tracks to the airport.

Right now I'm in the hotel reception and it's nearly 9.25pm. In the UK it's nearly 2.25am in the morning – so I can't call anybody. I'm considering a beer before bedtime, but then again I'm thinking no, just go to bed, watch a bit of TV and take it easy, so that's what I'm going to do.

In Atlanta...pronounced 'Atlanna'

On board the Delta flight from Montreal to 

Atlanta, 12 August 2012

I flew out of Montreal on a Delta flight. The flight time was just two hours and 49 minutes, which was great as, for some reason, I was expecting it to be much longer. On the flight I got chatting to a guy who runs a transport company out of Nashville, Tennessee, and he told me that if I was staying in Buckhead, which I was, that I could get the Marta.

The Marta is a train and yes, it goes straight to Buckhead, so I thanked him for the advice and off he went to catch a connecting flight to Nashville (it's about 45 minutes in the air from Atlanta).

Atlanta airport is huge and when we eventually stopped at a gate it all got a little confusing as the baggage reclaim was on the other side of the airport. Coming from Canada, I didn't have to go through passport control, which was good, but at the time (this was yesterday) I thought it a bit odd.

I'm sorry, Mr Marriott, people don't need so many pillows.

Anyway, I had to get a train to the baggage reclaim but when I got there, my bag was already on the carousel, which was cool. So, bags in hand, I jumped on to a shuttle bus that took me around the perimeter of the airport to the Marta and then out to Buckhead.

Then it all got a little worrying. There were some strange and some would say undesirable characters on the Marta (some guy with loads of tattoos who looked decidedly dodgy) and then, when I got off, more shady characters of the rapper variety hanging around on street corners asking for money. Mildly intimidating when you're carrying a heavy suit carrier and a laptop and have an English accent. I was forming a poor opinion of Atlanta and wondering whether I'd be holed up in my room for the rest of the trip.

The view from my Atlanta Marriott hotel – not as good as

the Holiday Inn, Midtown, Montreal.

The first thing I noticed about Atlanta was the heat. It's 100 degrees F here – that's hot – and it gets hotter apparently. But combine the heat with the rappers and it all gets a little oppressive, although I was told that it's a pretty safe city.

I went to Shula's, the hotel restaurant, and ordered tuna steaks and a glass of Sweetwater beer, a local brew (and very nice too) and then I sat outside, yes, you heard me, I sat outside, in the heat, and watched the closing ceremony of the Olympics. What the hell was Brian May doing entertaining Jessie J? Anyway, beer, food and back to the room for a well-earned sleep and then up at 7am to have breakfast and go off to meet the subject of my interview.

I was going to moan about the Marriott. I was going to mention that breakfast here is $17!!! And they expected a tip! This morning's breakfast was the first really healthy one, consisting of fresh fruit (strawberries, melon and pineapple, followed by yoghurt, a slice of Danish pastry and a cup of tea). But I was going to moan. I was going to moan about the number of pillows on the bed, the loud colour scheme (which is sported by Marriotts the world over) AND the fact that WiFi ain't free in the room (although it is in public areas like the bar where I write this now).

This view from the 20th floor of my interviewee's office was
pretty good, though!!!

The Holiday Inn in Montreal was better: Free WiFi, breakfast was free and so was the vibe. The Marriott is corporate and I don't like it. Also the service at the restaurant in the Marriott was poor: I and other guests were left standing around wondering what to do rather than being met by somebody who directed us to tables and so on. So I wasn't happy, but the reason I'm not going to moan about them is this: other than the service yesterday night in Shula's, the front desk has been really helpful and friendly – so all is forgiven.

This isn't the sort of place where you can go cycling and if I had a choice of here or Montreal I'd head back to Montreal. It's calmer, people are happier (or they seem to be) and there's no rat race to speak of. In addition, the scenery's better and there are no rappers standing around on street corners asking for money.

Yeah, all round, give me Montreal over Atlanta, but I'm here until 9pm tomorrow night before I fly home, so perhaps my view will change. I might need a swim in the open air pool tomorrow morning.

At Montreal airport...

I arrived at the airport far too early at 11am, having checked in on-line from my hotel room. Why so early? Well, I got up early, had some breakfast followed by a one-hour walk (30 minutes each way) along Sherbrooke.

Montreal is an amazing city and one of the great things about it is the lack of traffic. The roads are virtually empty, like they used to be in the UK back in the seventies. Sherbrooke is an interesting road too. Nearer the centre of town it's where you'll find the Hilton and the Holiday Inn and a few others, the Opus being another, not forgetting the Ritz Carlton, but if you venture out and, as I did, turn left out of the Holiday Inn heading in the direction of the Montreal Museum of Fine Art, the landscape changes dramatically. The office blocks disappear and suddenly you find yourself in an exclusive and very peaceful environment. Not only no cars – seriously, hardly any – but there are quiet suburban streets and elegant apartment blocks.

After walking for 30 minutes, I turned left and found myself in a street full of boutiques and coffee shops. I was tempted to linger awhile and perhaps I should have as I ended up taking a cab to the airport and now here I am, eating a chicken sandwich with fries and drinking tea. I could have left it at least another two hours, but I'm here now.

This hangs from one of the ceilings in the public
area of Montreal Airport.

The sun's shining, the skies are blue, with a few clouds dotted here and there and I'm about to drink some broken Orange Pekoe (for the first time since 1987 while in India). It's a black tea, basically, just like English breakfast. Anyway, my flight leaves at 1525hrs and – much to my delight – the flight duration is only two hours and 49 minutes. I've got a window seat too, which is good.

On the cycling front, I'm not holding out much hope of a ride around Atlanta, but I might be pleasantly surprised. Yesterday we cycled around Montreal on the Bixi bikes, I was reminded of David Byrne's Bicycle Diaries, which have been mentioned on this blog before. Byrne takes a foldable bike with him whenever he travels or tours with his band and he always gets around the cities he visits using pedal power. I'll have to check out what he has to say about Montreal and whether it tallies with my experiences – except that Montreal isn't covered by Byrne. Perhaps he's considering a follow-up book of further adventures.

Airports are funny places, they're always so sparsely populated and grey. There's something very calming about an airport: rows of empty seats and deserted thoroughfares with occasional flurries of activity around foodservice outlets, like Houston's, where I'm sitting now having finished that chicken sandwich and fries. I had beef soup as a starter, which turned out to be a meal in itself – a stew no less –and now I'm writing this post and sipping on my aforementioned Orange Pekoe tea.

Chicken sandwich with fries at Houston's on Montreal 

Airport – beyond passport control.

Airports, of course, are the hubs of the international world where brands like Toblerone rule supreme. What is it about the international world that's so weird? It's a world of its own in a sense, that exists between security and the departures gate. All the merchandise is tacky, but ubiquitous, and I'm sure that there are people who try to capitalise on this strange and transient world. Whenever I find myself in the international world, there's always Toblerone and then in a brochure in the hotel room, perhaps, an advertisement for the Blue Man Group, a band of baldmen who have painted themselves blue and do something, I know not what, but they've managed to gain similar status to Toblerone and other 'international' brands, like U2, Apple and many others. In the same way that all countries have a central bank and a national airline, perhaps there's some rule that says all nations must have a Blue Man Group – or do the original band simply tour a lot? It just seems to me that whenever I'm in a hotel room, anywhere in the world, flicking through the free entertainment guide, the Blue Man Group are virtually guaranteed to be playing somewhere. Perhaps there's a prize for anybody who turns up to a Blue Man Group gig with a Toblerone, a U2 CD and an iPod.

The international world disappears while you're in the air – unless you take a glance at the in-flight magazine's duty free brochure where all those horrible international brands can be found again, except, perhaps, the Blue Man Group, although if there is just one Blue Man Group, perhaps they'll be travelling to another country. They only disappear when you're back on terra firma, in your own country, where they seem to keep their distance, apart from occasional reminders from those 'international' entertainment brands, like Dame Edna and, more recently, Sacha Baron Cohen who is well and truly gunning for Toblerone status.

I'm rambling now, because I've got nothing else to do, although it's neary 2pm so I'd better go look for my plane to Atlanta. I've just discovered that it won't depart until 1605hrs.

Another Bizarro cartoon...

See post below this one for details of my ride around Montreal on a so-called Bixi bike...it was great!

Cycling around Montreal, Canada...a long way from Westerham

Yours truly with his Bixi bike in downtown Montreal

 on 11 August 2012

Nothwithstanding a walk around town early this morning, punctuated as it was by a pleasant breakfast in the aforementioned Presse Café, I resolved to take on a Bixi bike and cycle around Montreal. Now for all of you out there thinking it's dangerous, remember you're basing your assumptions on London and how rubbish it is; this, on the other hand, is totally different. Yes, there's traffic, but nowhere near as much as in London or, in fact, in the UK as a whole.

My Bixi bike down by the harbour. Well worth a ride.

I picked up my Bixi across the road from the hotel and then, after the usual faffing about with getting the bike out of its dock, off I went. I hasten to add that my pal Ken from the office was with me; he, in fact, used his credit card to get the bikes on the road and I later paid for lunch.

We headed off along Sherbrooke and then hung a right into the quieter, more leafier streets, riding for a good mile before turning left and heading west in parallel with Sherbrooke but some way further down. It was very pleasant and very European too. Remember that everybody here speaks French and that there are some language barriers; even those who can speak English find themselves requesting that we slow down so they can understand us. It's really odd being in Canada and finding that everybody speaks French.

The streets were quiet and leafy and there were apartments, nice apartments, lots of them with bikes padlocked to wrought iron balustrades running up steep steps towards front doorways. All very quaint and with a pleasant aroma of Southern European cooking – think garlic and seafood.

Down by the river.

While being bang in the centre of Montreal and just a mile or so from Sherbrooke, we could have been in a peaceful suburb miles from anywhere, it was that serene. Montreal certainly offers an appealing lifestyle that I could certainly get used to.

The scenery varied: one minute quiet apartments, the next rows of shops. One minute it was quaint, the next it was slightly downmarket and then we found ourselves in the Latin quarter and decided to stop for a beer, followed by a short ride to Les 3 Brasseurs on Rue Saint Denis for lunch.

Lunch over we headed for the St Lawrence River and then it was simply a case of retracing our steps back to our respective hotels. I had a steep climb up towards Sherbrooke but when I reached it I turned left and headed down towards the Holiday Inn. I wanted to stay out all day so I turned right up University and then right again, coming round, down Hutchison, or it might have been the next road along and back to the Bixi station from where we had hired the bikes.

It had rained earlier on this morning, but had stopped before I hit the streets around 0810hrs and while rain was promised, there was nothing but heat, albeit greyish skies. Looking out of my hotel window, it's still very pleasant out there: warm with a few clouds and no blue skies to speak of, but nice all the same.

I wont say I'm not tired, because I am and there's a temptation to take a nap, but I won't. Instead I'm here writing the blog and considering another walkabout before calling Ken to decide where to go tonight.

The Saint Lawrence River, Montreal, Canada, Saturday August 11th 2012.

Tomorrow I'm flying to Atlanta in Georgia, USA, as I've got an interview there on Monday and then I'm flying home to the UK on Tuesday evening, arriving Wednesday morning.

I'm so glad that I've recorded a bike ride overseas. Whether the same opportunity will present itself in Atlanta, I dont know, but hopefully it will.

I love this cartoon from the newspaper...

Up early for breakfast and a wander around Montreal

Saturday morning around 0815hrs. I stood in the middle 

of the road to take this shot. Isn't life nicer without cars?

The phrase 'wall-to-wall meetings' applied to Friday, but now it's Saturday so officially it's a day off. I was up with lark and wandering around Montreal looking for a café to have breakfast. And to be honest I didn't really find one and ended up going into a place on Sherbrooke, across the road from my hotel.

Now you see it...

What's amazing is that, on a Saturday morning in central Montreal, around a quarter past eight, there's virtually no traffic on the roads. Compare Montreal with London or, dare I say it, even Croydon and check out the pic above for evidence of how quiet things are here.

... now you don't!

So I'm wandering around, I find all the well-known brand names, Claire's Accessories, FCUK, La Senza – yes, even Theo Paphitis has made his mark here – and then I head back up the hill towards Sherbrooke and the Presse Café, which sells a range of pastries and stuff, all the usual fayre you might expect from a coffee shop.

I ordered a cup of tea plus eggs, bacon and toast and while it wasn't the same dimensions as yesterday's mammoth feast downstairs, it was fine and, as you can see from the photos, I finished it, bar a strip or two of bacon. Not bad for just $6.95 with a banana thrown in. The tea, by the way, was much nicer than yesterday's.

Having already walked some distance along Sherbrooke and then down and back up again, this time I headed east (I think) along Sherbrooke (it's a road) and then down into the Latin quarter, back and round again and now I'm back in my hotel.

Shortly, I'll be checking out a Bixi bike. I'll probably ride down to the river and then back again – not that I haven't had my exercise for the day already.

Tomorrow afternoon, I fly down to Atlanta, Georgia with Delta Airlines and then I'm on the red-eye back to the UK, getting back Wednesday morning around 10am.

What's this all about?

An office building named after our former Prime Minister?

I spied this rather odd-sounding office building across the road from that row of Bixi bikes in the previous post.