Cowboys, Steaks and Yellow Roses – A Week in the Lone Star State

I spent most of last week in Irving, a ‘burb of Dallas, Texas. Dangit, but they’re right! Everything in Texas is BIG.

The airport at Dallas-Fort Worth proclaims that it is as large as Manhattan. I cannot verify that for you, but they could well be right…

Irving is, they tell me, much like all the other ‘burbs of Dallas. Freeways, intersections, and strip malls. Not hugely pretty.

The weather was odd – incredibly hot and intense sunshine in the day followed by the most torrential downpours late at night. It felt hotter here at times, than in Southern India.

The food – oh my god, the food! It’s pretty dangerous: Steaks, ribs, chops, chillies, and BBQ sauce everywhere. I’m not sure I’d survive if I lived here, but it does taste good. I’ve never craved an undressed lettuce leaf so much as by the end of the week.

In my brief time here, I got an impression of Texas being a ‘state apart’. They definitely have their own identity. In some respect, it’s a bit like Yorkshire. Both places see themselves as being the largest state/county (more on that later) and the people tell it to you straight. For example, I was once introduced to an old Yorkshire man, and I said something like, ‘Pleased to meet you. How are you?’ He proceeded to tell me in minute detail. ‘I’ve got a twisted bowel with three openings’ he told me. I suppose I asked… Anyway, my point is that I can see that happening in Texas.

As such, Texas didn’t seem overly sophisticated, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Having said that, uptown Dallas looked very posh. Here's some advice for my mountain biking buddies that I found on a trolleybus in Dallas:


Anyway, the ‘Southern Hospitality’ was immediately obvious, and was in stark contrast to California.

Let me tell you about the ‘size of Texas’ story. I was sitting in a bar, drinking a Shiner Bock beer, and eating a steak (predictably). A few good ol’ boys were asking each other quiz questions:

‘What’s the largest state in the Union?’ one cowboy asked.

‘Texas!’ was the roared reply.

‘Correct!’ said Billy-the-Kid

‘Hmmm…’ thought I.

A few other questions passed, and then
‘What is the most northerly state?’ asked Buffalo Bill.

‘Illinois’ said one. ‘Vermont’ said another. ‘New York’ said a third. (New York??)

‘Nope’ said Buffalo Bill. ‘It’s Minnesota’, and he proceeded to explain that a little nook stuck up above the 49th Parallel.

I must have had too many Shiner Bocks, because I then did something brave (or stoopid).
‘Alaska’ I called out.

Immediately, four big faces turned to see where the clipped pronunciation had come from. ‘Uh-oh’ I thought… But they all broke into huge grins. “Shee-ette, Duwayne! He’s right!”

They all laughed, and I was relieved. I had decided some time ago to gain as many unique experiences as I can, but a bar-brawl in Texas??

‘It’s also the largest state in the Union’ I said, feeling brave by this point.

‘Well, I do declare…’ (or something like that) said Wild Bill Hickock, and one of them bought me a drink. Nice!

Later that night I found out first hand why Texas is called the ‘Lone Star State’. Of all the things described as ‘awesome’ in America (hotdogs, cars, shoes, etc.), this really was. I’m not going to blog about it, because it’s currently my secret and I found it out from personal experience, but I’ll tell you about it verbally if you remember to ask me next time we speak.
One thing I didn’t find out, though, was why all the famous cowboys are called William…

California Dreamin’

Until an embarrassingly recent time, I thought the song went:
‘All the knees are browm (knees are brown)
And the sky is grey (and the sky is grey)
I went for a walk, (went for a walk)
On a winter’s day (etc)’

I thought I’d tell you that apropos of nothing, really, except that I recently spent four days in sunny Southern California. I was working in Irvine which, apart from the gorgeous weather and swanky hotel, was nothing much to write home about. I was, however, pretty close to Newport Beach, Laguna Beach, Long Beach, and you get the idea…

These are, of course, beautiful places filled with hard-bodied, tanned, beautiful-looking people. I met this girl when she was on lifeguard duty:

She was friendly enough, and wanted my cell number, but she seemed a little vacuous. So, Jonnay, I gave her your number instead. She’ll never know, and I hope you don’t mind…

This is her friend. I promised to fix her up with you, Timmay.

I gave her your address in Sydney, so she’ll be there soon, I expect. She looks like Eva Boos, so I guessed you’d like her…


I seem to have taken more sunset photos. If I do that again, you have my permission to chew my ear off, gentle reader…

I wasn’t here long enough to really get a feel for how friendly it is, but at first glance people seem more self-centred and concerned with looking good. The Mexican food, though, is wonderful.

Oh, and the seagulls are the same size as small children here

I got to spend half a day on the beach at Corona del Mar, so the knees are indeed all brown. See? I was right all along.

Home from Home in the Evergreen State

Hello gentle reader. Are you still there? You are?? Well, thank you...

I'm sorry it's been so long since I wrote, but let me introduce you to one of life’s quirks: I started this blog as a travelogue (tavelblog?), but have been so busy travelling that I haven't kept it up-to-date. So, I'll now make amends and splurge out a few entries in quick succession. After all, this whole thing is for you gentle reader, always you.

And so to the Evergreen State…
Washington, in the Pacific North West (not to be confused with Washington DC on the east coast) is a beautiful place.



That makes me pretty lucky, because it is my most frequent destination. Seattle is nick-named the ‘Emerald City’ but that has more to do with the abundant rainfall, the resultant pine forests, green fields and verdant landscapes, than the presence of the Wizard, Dorothy or Toto. Seattle is a fun city in itself, and the surrounding area supports a wide range of outdoor activities, including skiing, snowboarding, cycling and mountain biking, hiking. Some brave souls even surf in the chilly North Pacific, and I know at least one person who scuba dives in Puget Sound. There be giant octopi, apparently…

I seem to have picked up an unsettling habit of photographing sunsets and sunrises. This is early morning on the Eastside.


(Eastside refers to being East of Lake Washington. Seattle is on the – wait for it Jonnay – Wesside! W! Chamon!)

I know this place so well by now (I must have been here over twenty times in the past 8 years) that I could start rambling on. So instead, I’ll list what I really like:

1. Friendly people. If you sit next to someone in a bar, they will definitely talk to you. Guaranteed. They may be old or young, in a group or on their own, male or female, black or white or anything else, it won’t matter. They will then most likely want to hang out and drink with you. After that, you may well move on to different venues together and continue to hang out. I think it would be difficult to be lonely here.

2. Funny people. The sense of humour here is not at all what I expected initially. It generally seems quirky, odd, and quite dry, and so quite like the English sense of humour. Not at all what the British might rather unkindly class as ‘American humor [sic]’. Good work!

3. Scenery. Well you can see for yourself.

4. Youthful outlook. Nothing in this whole area is old. I am told that the city is only a hundred years old, or so. That seems reflected in the youthful culture.

I’m bound to blog more on Seattle and the Eastside in the future, but for now ‘that shallot’…