Letter from America

After a sleepless night, we are driven to Heathrow by T, leaving from J's at 0700.  This goes well and we have a restful breakfast at the airport.

The 8.5 hour flight departs slightly late but arrives on time.  Considering what it is, it’s no trouble.  I watch the first episodes of Line of Duty series 4 and Night Manager and a programme about an eco hotel in Ecuador.

Border Control is a nightmare with J as a first timer and me being told off by cops as I wait. All I did was open my suitcase much to the amusement of a nice black cleaner who tells J I nearly done got myself arrested. 

We manage the cheap, clean, cheerful MARTA train and meet a very nice white guy who reminds me of my Manhattab friend .  He feels he has to make apologies for living in Atlanta.  It’s the weather.
So, we have arrived in somewhere sunny warm and green.  Just like Malaga at this time of year.

Getting to our hotel in a taxi is an unexpected treat.  The taxi is worse than anything in Cuba, with a broken seat belt and a driver who doesn’t know where he is going.  We get there in the end.  Definitely most scary part of the day.  'They ain't compulsory round here ma'am and you'll be fine'. (Re the seat belts) Look what happened to Princess Di I say.

C on the desk is something else.  He's helpful and changes my room for me but has no idea how far it is to the greyhound station or how long a taxi would take.  Thank goodness for google.
  
We find the tea corner but 'ain't no cups'. Everyone is lovely but not with it.
Thanks be for my kettle.

We head next door to a diner and eat a huge salad with beer and fries 

Great atmosphere, great service, great company and an all black clientele till the white guys arrive.  J thinks they look as if they are from Thatcham but in fact they are Scots.  The only Brits we see till the wedding by the way.  In fact we see no other Brits at all for eight days, or other Europeans, for that matter. I say other Europeans with feeling, because it has become apparent to me that we have much more in common with European than N American culture.  I love the people in the US but I'm not sure about the way it all works here. It makes me feel sad about Brexit, as I am scared we will turn into the 51st state. 

 The beer is Sweet Water and is Atlanta based. 

Here is the view from my room, which is cosy but dated.

Georgia is a different world

People are super friendly and very bonkers, it's unreal 

In the hotel there are lots of hurricane refugees from the British Virgin Islands and St Thomas speaking patois and looking shell shocked 

The staff is lovely but they make Little Britain's 'computer doesn't work' look like the height of efficiency 

Good night from downtown Atlanta