Coast to Coast in 16 Days

I headed deep underground through the labyrinth of tunnels in-search of my platform, passing the homeless that sat cross-legged along the tiled corridors with their signs in search of any spare change. The crowds of commuters who I had been walking among were now thinning out as they branched off to catch their respective trains. I followed the platform signs for what seemed an age wondering how they built such a network of tracks that connect the whole city so deep underground. I'm surprised the streets don't cave in with the number of hollow tracks and stations that lie beneath like an ant farm. Amazing!

Eventually my platform, which was lined with people from all over the world who struggled to hear the continuous security reminders that echoed out on behalf of the NYPD due to the poor quality. What resembled a scene from river-dance or a Mexican wave started as those at the front, in turn from left to right, took a quick step back from the edge of the platform as they were greeted by the distant rumble and gusts of wind that came charging down the track from the black hole. You could see the lights of the train reflecting onto the walls deep inside the tunnel as it roared closer. The noise intensified and the ground shook as the train came into sight, chasing an empty crisp packet that rafted down the track trying to stay ahead of the fast approaching train before being sucked under. The train grinded to a halt after a bit of doubt of it stopping at all due to the speed of it entering the station. I stood back allowing others to step on board before taking my place lent up against the doors opposite. The train pulled out of the station and was soon at full speed as we all held on to whatever possible. Everyone jerking and swaying in time as the train stuttered around the bends of the underground. Business men sat cross-legged with their briefcase along side them, lost in their New York Times newspaper which they held up, spread wide open between their 2 hands in an exaggerated motion, allowing the dirty faced construction worker catch a sneaky peep at the sports news on the back page. Students sat back, eyes closed, head pushed up against the window, oblivious to the passing world as they listened to their walkmans while mentally counting the number of times the train stops so they knew when they were home without having to open their eyes. The retail workers, still in their uniforms sat reading fiction books, though found themselves repeating the same line over and over as they drift off, thinking of their hot food greeting them at home. Families travelled home after visiting relatives with the mother leaning up against her husband after a long day while the children sat quietly playing on their new handheld computer. Among all this, the pickpockets, although not noticeable, merged with the crowd looking for their next victim, a crazy guy, who went about picking up paper from the carriage floor and counting the advertising boards above the windows and then there was me. I felt like I had no right to be there. Riding on the subway in New York City on Christmas Day; how does that work. Perhaps there was someone taking a mental note on who they were travelling with that day and I made up their crowd. "There was a traveller, Newcastle United backpack on, travel book in hand standing out a mile as he studied the route maps above the door in his funny sneakers..."

I kept track on the first couple of stations, comparing them with the map, making sure I was heading in the right direction, which I was. Though the strange thing was that the train had not stopped at any of them. Grrrrrrr, I was on an express train which ran on holidays, only stopping at certain stations along the route. Stations were marked as a black dot on the map with the express stations as a red one. I studied the map, following the track along to my station, confirming that mine wasn't an express stop. That’s all I need. I'd have to pass through my station, along with another 3 before I could get off the train...

My station approached, flashed by and past as I envied those on my platform who also cursed the train for not stopping as they envied us as they were waiting for a train to take them home too. I stood, feeling a bit worried on the thought that I was staying Uptown and that another 3 stations north would take me out of the busy areas of Manhattan and into the unknown.

I had promised myself that I would always stay among people and not go wandering off leaving me in a position where I could come into danger ,and here I was, only 22 hours into my trip outside the busy areas of Manhattan, standing on a deserted platform. For all I knew, I could be in a rough area of New York where gangs fought for territory and muggers took what ever they could from wondering souls. You could hear the rumble of trains come and go from other platforms within the station as I waited nervously for a sign of life from the tunnel. Water dripped from the roof, splashing onto the platform and the smell of cleaning detergents wafted down from the working cleaner in the distance who mopped away at the far end of the platform oblivious to me sitting there. Perhaps if she had of seen me she might of awarded me "first foot". It was like the land that time forgot.

A figure emerged in the distance carrying a hold-all and wearing the brightest red trainers you'd see. As he approached I could see he was an old man, with raggy jeans that sported holes in them, along with a lumberjack shirt with the top button fastened and a black anorak zipped halfway up. He came across as one of the homeless I had seen throughout the day as he shuffled up the platform and plonked himself down only yards away from me. My eyes kept being drawn to his bright red trainers; Adidas; brand new. I guess even the homeless buy new trainers from time to time. He was sitting there, lent back against the bench, hands behind his head, legs sprawled out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, proud as punch, thinking to himself, as he glanced across at me with his teeth less grin "I've got new trainers".

"Canadian??"

"Sorry?"

Nodding down towards my Newcastle United badge on my bag.

"No, it's from England. Newcastle United, I'm English"

"Ah, Newcastle. Like the saying, taking coals to Newcastle"

"Yes, that’s the one"

"England’s a lovely place. I look to visit my friend there one day. He is an Earl; The Earl of Dunbar. He's called Derek. He researched his heritage and ansisters and is related to Mary Queen of Scots"

"Ah right"

"Trevor"

"mmm??"

"That’s my name, Trevor"

"I see, I'm John, nice to meet you"

As I sat chatting with Trevor, the platform slowly started to fill up. I told him about my planned trip across the States, which he envied, in exchange for stories on the Big Apple. He was very interesting and extremely helpful. I guess this is travelling at its finest...... The joys of travelling isn't just the places you see, it's also the people you meet. That’s people from all over the world; who have been brought up different; from different warps of life and with different stories to share. So there I was, sitting on the New York Underground, alone, thousands of miles from home, lost in conversation with an American homeless guy whose days involved surfing the subway for warmth, picking food out of bins and sleeping rough in doorways somewhere across the city.

I was soon back on my way and heading in the right direction, giving a sigh of relief when the train finally stopped at my station. I walked the 2 blocks from the subway to the Hostel in darkness where the night was still filled with the noise of heavy traffic and police sirens. I was glad to get out of the cold and into the hostel though realised I was only confined to the foyer as I was no longer a resident with me checking out earlier that day. My backpack was stored in a locker inside the hostel which I explained to the counter staff who gladly let me past the security doors. Now that I was indoors I didn't plan on leaving, unless it was to go to Dianes as planned. Fingers crossed I can get through on the phone.................. Failing that, lets hope there is a bed free here in the hostel.......

The only part of my trip that wasn't sorted was me getting from New York to Washington DC, so off I went in search of Penn Street Station to purchase a train ticket. I must of walked a mile before I came across it and when I did find it, it was hiding underneath Madison Square Gardens. If I looked like Penn Street Station, I would hide too. It's a dated, dirty and dull looking place all in one. It wasn't a patch on Grand Central Station, the famous old train station, which is now only used for regional connections. Grand Central Station was also dated, thought was dated in a style that makes it look good. A big concourse, with marble looking stair cases running up at both ends of the room. A green domed roof with paintings on that has just recently been restored, and a 60ft American Flag hanging in the centre. Below it, an information help desk with gold fittings and an old fashioned clock on the roof that had 4 faces. An old gentleman, kitted out in full uniform along with spectacles and a pocket watch occupied the booth, adding to the sense of American history this station gives off. Giant arched shuttered windows leaked the daylight into the concourse, with lamps running the full length of the building. Old styled ticket offices lined the walls, and passage ways ran off that led to the 100plus tracks leading out of this historic, romantic station.

Penn Street on the other hand, is the opposite. I wouldn't even waste my time writing about it, never mind showing a picture of it as it's that bad. The only ray of sunlight in that place was April, the chirpy ticket attendant that served me when purchasing my train ticket. She was a bubbly local lass who didn't seem to be mind working on Christmas day.

"Good morning Sir, and how are you today?" Not like other retail staff, she meant it.

"Hi, I'm fine thank you. I'm after a ticket to Washington please"

"Certainly Sir, and what day would you like to travel?"

"The 28th please, around dinner time if possible"

"No problem, you'll be looking at about $80 though I'll just check that out for you now" She punches away at her keyboard, returning with,

"Mmm, it's working out a bit more expensive at $104"

"That's fine. I'd priced it on the internet and it came up at that too."

"OK Sir, that'll be $104. Do you have your identification please?"

"Certainly” I handed over my passport along with $110.

"Ah, the luck of the Irish???"

"Ha. No, I'm British. I'm from England"

"Its says on your passport, Northern Ireland."

"No, it says United Kingdom Of Great Britain and Northern Ireland" Pointing at the top of the passport.

"Oops. Silly me. So how would you like a discount John" She had me on 1st name terms now.

"I'd love one."

"No, I wanna hear you say it like you mean it."

"I'd love a discount please. Since it's Christmas and all."

"No John, I wanna hear you really mean it. Say it to me John, say, I wanna discount."

"I wanna discount"

"Louder John, I can't hear you."

"I wanna discount."

"Where talking alota discount here John, scream it"

"I wanna discount!"

"Hell ya, again..."

"I WANNA DISCOUNT!!!!" Slamming my fist down on the counter.

"There you go Sir, have a nice day" She said as if the past 30 seconds hadn't happened. She slid back my passport, along with my train ticket, smiled at me and passed back a $50 note.

"You take care now"

"Why thank you. Merry Christmas"

And away I went, my opinion of Penn Street Station changed by one individual called April who hasn't got a clue that her 2 minute conversation with a Geordie in New York is being noted on the internet.

While in New York, my plan was to stay at the Hostel for one night then move onto Brooklyn where I had arranged to stay with the lucky family who bidded for me on eBay to go for Christmas dinner. I had been in contact with Diane for the past few weeks prior to coming to the States and was given the opportunity to spend 3 nights there if I wanted. Diane had travelled in the past and had been in situations where she was stuck for places to stay and had been put up by other people and felt that allowing for me to stay was just paying back; which of course I was happy to accept and looked forward to meeting the family. Because I wasn't due to go over till about 7pm I was to spend the first day roaming about Manhattan then take the tube over with my backpack a bit later on. I had been given 2 phone numbers for me to contact them on at some point Christmas day before I headed over just to confirm directions, which I seemed to have sussed after studying the maps of the local transport, plus for extra peace of mind for me as it's not everyday you arrange to spend dinner with a family from the famous Brooklyn area that you see day in day out on TV. I spent my day as planned mooching about the streets of Manhattan, taking time out around dinner time to give Diane a call. I studied my pocket full of change, looking to pick out the quarters for the phone call. I dropped 2 in the slot and dialled away to receive an automated message, "to continue with this call please insert a further 90 cent", I hurried through my fist full of change in-search for more quarters. I had dollar coins though of course the stupid phone doesn't take dollar coins and was directed by another message saying "Please hang up and try again" Grrrrrrr, slamming the phone down, cursing this currency and the lack of time aloud to search for quarters till it hangs up, I sped off in search of a shop. 2 minutes later I return, this time to find a rather large lady, weighing about 20stone with her back to me displaying about 6" of flesh where the bottom of her T-shirt, which rippled halfway up her body failed to meet the top of her pants. She had a pushchair where a child slept unaware of the other 3 kids, ranging from 4 to 7, causing chaos among themselves. The mother tried to keep them under control as she argued with whoever was on the end of the line. Maybe it was another automated message? Either way, I wasn't hanging about and marched on in search of another pay phone.

Looking at my Manhattan map, I decided to make my main mode of transport my feet. That way I figured that I would get to see more than if I was sitting on the subway, though I soon realized that this place was a lot bigger than I first thought. I set off from the hostel and headed east towards the famous Central Park. On the 2 block walk I took to get me to the park I was passing through a housing complex where it was made of blocks of flats. There was people roaming about everywhere, though none of them were travellers like myself. These were locals, striding along in long black jackets, mumbling to themselves as they walked. These were people I had never came across before and felt a touch uncomfortable and just wanted to hurry along. I realize that these people were harmless and would of probably done anything to help, though I had watched to many films which showed otherwise. Its amazing what effect the media/movies can portray, although not always true. It was a dry, crisp Christmas morning which seemed perfect for the surrounding Park I was in. I entered the park on the west side, about halfway down and headed south east; my destination was the south east corner where lay the famous ice rink. I felt a bit more at ease once a Father and his 6 year old son rode passed on their new Christmas bikes and into the Park. The park was made up of a number of tracks, some concrete roads, others just trails through the wooded areas. I took the gritted path that headed in the direction I was after although I realized that it could be quite easy to be disorientated and thrown off track in this maze of paths that headed deep into the park. Lazy looking trees, home to the many squirrels shadowed over my head as my shuffling feet kick up grit as I walk in search for places of interest. From being alone, I'm now passed regular by joggers out on their morning run. It was amazing. There wasn't just 1 or 2, there was hundreds. Everywhere I looked there was a constant stream of people either jogging, cycling or power walking. People even had their 3-wheeled prams as they passed me. And I'm not just talking along one path, passing me, I'm talking about, every path and trail there was someone jogging on, and when they passed, there was someone else, then someone else in quick succession. Remember, it's Christmas day, and there is all these people running around Central Park. Imagine if it was a normal Saturday morning, perhaps in the height of summer, there would of been thousands. Saying that, if there was a satellite picture from above which could see all the movement within the Park below, it would of shown thousand on that day. It wasn't just your stereotype jogger either. People of all ages and all sizes all panting there way through the park either to the sound of their personal walkman, or maybes just the sound of their feet on the pavement. Some in shorts and tracksuits as expected, though others in what seemed to be casual clothing with big overjackets, that would be more suited on an afternoon shopping.

I followed up the path and came to a Reservoir, that wouldn't of looked out of place in the lake district due to the size of it. I later found that it was over a mile and a half in diameter, it was huge. I followed along side it, still heading south in search of the ice rink. At this point, I must of been walking 20 minutes. I checked the map to see how I was getting on and that's when I realized how big this place was. It seemed as if I hadn't moved on the map and still had a long way to travel, even once at the south side of the lake. At the foot of the lake, was the park which had swings , slides and climbing frames. The rides were all occupied, though the wired thing was when I got closer, I realized they were adults on them and not kids as I first assumed. Sometimes you find adults having daft carry on, playing on the swings and stuff, which I would hold my hand up and plead guilty to, though here, I got the impression that these were serious. They were happily swinging away or even hanging upside down on climbing frames. At one point I was expecting one to fall, graze their knee and go running off crying for their mam. Perhaps that's what some of the joggers were doing, with their big overjackets on... "Mam, I've fell over"

I continued on, which was now my quest to find the Enchanted Ice Rink. I snaked through the different trails and paths passing other places of interest which included the boating lake, which was closed due to the lake being iced over, a dried out fountain overlooked by some large steps which offered a great view from the top of the iced over boating lake. It was also where I tasted my first American food from a street vendor with his push kart; Giant pretzel and a hot dog. Heading on up the steps, over the road that ran through the park, I passed a sitting area where the locals where playing chess to the sound of some tall coloured guy playing Christmas songs on his saxophone. Was that John Coffie again???? The noise wasn't enough to wake the homeless guy sitting with his head burred in his hood as he slept oblivious to his surrounding which included me getting a quick picture of him. "Cheese"

No time to stop, I headed on, this time passing what resembled a castle, with the American flag flying from the roof. At the foot of the castle was a pond in an area called "quiet area" This was to help the upkeep of the turtles that lived in the pond, although I couldn't see any. Heading south, I could start to see the emerging buildings peeking over the tree tops and the crowds of people starting to merge along with horse and cart rides that jockey past with snuggled up couples. Maybe next year if I get myself a girlfriend I might try it.

The buildings came more visible, indicating that I was close to the end of the park. There was now crowds of people with cameras and the joggers were no more. I joined the crowd and headed to the ice rink which had just emerged from behind a giant rock, where people were on top of having their picture taken. This was it, living a dream since watching Home Alone many years ago, to be at the ice rink in Central Park on Christmas Day. I only wish I had my son with me though I'm not even aloud to have him over night, never mind taking him on holiday with me.

I awoke on my first morning in New York fairly early as my body clock was still thinking I was in England. It was 4:30am, meaning 9.30am at home. For a second I had forgot where I was, though was soon reminded once I heard the various noises that 9 sleeping men make. I didn't want to be suffering from jet lag and knew if I got up now I'd be wanting to go to bed at 5pm that night, thinking its 10pm as it was in Newcastle. I forced myself to go back to sleep which is something I've grown up doing on Christmas morning after waking up all excited for Santa and being told by my parents, "It's to early, he hasn't been yet, go back to sleep; It's only 3am, and your 26"

It took me a while to get back to sleep though once I did, I could of stayed there all morning though had to drag myself out of bed at about 8 as I had a busy day ahead. I hopped out of bed, grabbed my shower kit, and skipped down the hallway with a spring in my step, "Morning all"

While waiting to be seen to, I noticed a constant flow of travellers passing through the security door and into the main part of the building. There seemed to be a lot of Asian people, such as Chinese and Japanese buzzing about and also got a hint of a few French too; given away by their accents. I went through the normal checking-in procedures handing over my $35 in exchange for my room card; 209G. That was the 2nd floor, room 9, bed G. With it being 8pm, Christmas Eve, I decided that I wouldn't be going anywhere tonight and off I went, in search of my room. I found the elevator just through the set of double doors from the main desk. As I waited I could hear a bit of hussle along with the way, where I took it was either the communal sitting area or TV room. The hostel was an old building made up of long corridors with orange doors lining the walls. It resembled a hospital with white speckled concrete floors that merged with the walls which were the same colour. It was deadly silent other than the sound of my foot steps and the clash of a door closing in the distance that echoed along the hallway. "205, 207, 209!" After 2 attempts, I managed to open the door with the electronic room card. I bundled through the door carrying my backpack over one shoulder and into the dark room where I was greeted by the smell of feet, though what do you expect when 10 men share 1 room. What I could see in the darkness, the room was made up of 5 bunk beds; 2 along 1 wall; 3 the other with lockers alongside each one. As I closed the door behind me I could hear the shuffle of people in their bunks trying to sleep. To get my bearing I had to turn the light on, at least till I found where I would be sleeping for the night. That was met by further shuffling from the sleeping few in the room as they tried to hide their eyes from the light. "Sorry". I wasn't really. I swung my bag down off my shoulder and onto the unmade bed. Relief. It felt as if I was floating now that I had been relieved from the 20kg backpack I'd been humping around. As well as a locker, each bed also had a wall lamp situated just above their pillow, which I switched on in exchange for the main room light. After a long day travelling, the first thing I wanted to do was take a shower and get changed in to some fresh clothes, which I did, though making sure that everything was locked away in my locker before going. On returning, one of the sleeping guests had surfaced and was rooting through his case for his wash kit. He was Chinese. I noticed that the other couple of sleepers were also to some Asian persuasion, whether Chinese or not, I couldn't tell. We exchanged hello, how are you, then he was gone. I made my bed, squared my stuff away and was now ready to go rooting around the hostel, like a kid does on arrival in his new hotel on summer holidays. Although it was only a matter of 20 minutes, the corridors seemed to have come to life as I frequently passed people heading to their rooms or showers while before, there wasn't a sole insight. I headed back down the crankly lift which I shared with a group of French who were dressed as if they were going out for a night on the town. 4 lads and 3 lasses, who were met by another party on the ground floor who the lads exchanged high-fives with. There was 3 main rooms on the ground floor which were all full of people. There was the cafe, although the shutters were drawn over the counter, with several round tables and a big map of Manhattan on the wall; there was the internet room which had a dozen computers in to use for $1/10 minutes and then there was the TV room which had 15 comfy chairs on looking a wall mounted 42" plasma TV which was showing "Miracle of 42nd street". At the back of the room there was a book case full of books where the ideas was, that you took a book though replacing it with a one that you have just read yourself.

In another part of the building I came across a games room which was home to 6 different video games, a pool stroke locker room and a kitchen with eating area which was downstairs and being put to good use by the herds that were there. Feeding time at the zoo I guess. I got chatting to some Australian lasses in the computer room who had been travelling for the past 4 month though were heading home just after new years. You'd be surprised on how many people are actually travelling alone like myself. I had an idea after moving around Australia alone a few year back though people at home, before I left thought I was nuts. That's why I opted for hostels rather than hotels so I could meet people like myself. There is like a travelling community and when your a part of it, it is so obvious, you can see them a mile off. There is no secret hand shakes or anything like that, it's just people wanting to bum around seeing as much as they can and sharing stories along the way. I now have been in the States for a week and I'm sitting in Colorado trying to catch up with this site and already have plenty of stories to share for years from the past week. Stories that you don't seem to get while sitting at home. There was people there that had been travelling for the past few years and were just in another city within another country. Though it doesn't matter where in the world you go, you'll see the travellers exact the same. Backpacks, raggy trainers, combat pants or jeans, bumbags, travel guides, digital cameras, phone calls home to there loved ones and an open mind. There is no fashion as such and if you were to wear what you would do back home, being brand new Adidas trainers and a Ted Baker shirt, then you would stand out a mile. They are all pretty open minded, mainly because there are seeking new places and cultures and sometimes need to adapt to them too. I enjoy chatting to the Australian travellers as I can relate to most of their home towns after spending a year there covering over 16,000 miles. The hostel I was at had plenty of Australians. Mainly female. There was a few French, German and Americans though mainly there was Chinese and Japanese, who were always friendly, apart for one who was pretty irate towards his fellow countryman after his pants had been moved through the night and his key had went missing. "You take my pants!" "I call police you bastard" "Why you move my pants" The guy in question was innocent and it was caused due to confusion over beds that happened at some point through the following night. I had been asleep so don't know exactly what happened till the next day and this guy discovered his pants next to the other guys bed. I just lay there with a grin on my face listening and was waiting for Bruce Lee impressions, though it ended when the irate guy stormed out the room, down to reception to return with some guy who looked like Eddie Murphy, carrying wire cutters to get into the locker that the key was missing for. All was present and apologies were made.

Now that I had by backpack, I was on my way. All I had to do now was hand in my visa card to the man on the checkpoint and I would be able to leave what was now a deserted terminal. Only 2 cleaners in their blue overalls, with their pushcarts and cleaning mops were left, who were both studying the now stopped baggage carousels thinking, "So what is the baby doing?".

Once I stepped beyond the final checkpoint, I was on American soil. Now for transport. I pushed through the double doors and into the concourse which was home to booths such as Tourist Information, Avis rent-a-car, Airport Police and a unattended Manhattan Super Shuttles. On the desk was a telephone and a sign saying "To arrange transport, please pick up" Was that for me??? Did they know I was coming??? All that was missing off the sign was my name... Anyway, so I picked up and was connected to their main desk, where ever that may of been within this huge airport. I was told by a fast speaking American women to wait exact where I was and someone would be there in 20 minutes to collect me. Great, I though, I'll try a coke from the food booth just opposite while I wait. That was the fist time I used the American money, which the shop assistant sensed, though I suppose she would be used to it, working in an arrival terminal of one of the most visited airports in the world. By the time I'd gathered my change and turned around to head back to the collection point, there was a big coloured guy who looked like John Coffie off the Green mile, with an American football jacket on and a clip board calling my name. "John, John, Hey man, are you John"... My chauffeur awaits and off I went, boarding the 10 seating American style mini bus, along with travellers from all over the world, although I couldn't tell you where from as we all sat in silence. Though the Japanese lady was a bit obvious.

We drove around the airport, picking a few more passengers up from different terminals and before long, we were on our way to Manhattan. It only took me a couple of minutes to decide to put my seatbelt on, as these Americans didn't seem to be the best drivers in the world. Although I was a bit tired after travelling for the past 12 hours, I was upbeat and took the 40 minute drive to take as much in as possible. There I was, sat next to some guy who I initially thought was a bird, listening to Regge FM, being driven to Manhattan, New York by John Coffie, like the drink although not spelt the same on Christmas Eve. Normally when in a foreign country, the first thing you notice different is the road signs, and here was no different. I scoured the horizon in search of the Manhattan Skyline though couldn't see it. We had been on the road for almost 25 minutes and was sure that a City that big could be spotted from a distance, but nothing. The 10 seater mini bus continued to zig zag between the traffic on the busy 4 lane highway then a sharp exit to its right. We came off the slip road which seemed to come back on itself. I knew that as the she-male next to me almost ended up on my knee as we turned and John Coffies mobile phone went shooting across the dashboard ending up on the floor. As I re-adjusted myself, shuffling across my seat, closer to the Japanese lady to the she-males disappointment, that is when I saw it. Thousands of lights which were from inside the windows of the hundreds of skyscrapers making up the Manhattan skyline. A huge cluster of buildings set at different heights that stretched for miles, then the 2 bridges, also lit up running off to the left. I had no idea it would look like that. When I imagine a skyline, for some reason I expect the buildings all to be in a straight line, although different in heights, so it was a bit of a surprise. Because my camera was in my right pocket, I didn't what to encourage the she-male by reaching down next to his leg, so I took a mental picture instead.

Once inside the concrete jungle of Manhattan, you are oblivious to the height of the buildings. For all you know, they could be 3 stories high for what you could see from inside the bus. The roads, all 4-laned are one-way and run for miles in arrow straight lines. If you haven't been to New York, the place is mapped out like a grid. There are lines of roads running North to South, which are labelled Avenues. Egg. 1st Ave, 2nd Ave etc.. Then the roads running East to West are named Streets in sequence. Egg. 42nd street, 43rd street etc...

After making 3 drops prior to mine, I'd arrived at my hostel; The biggest hostel in the world; "Hostelling International New York". As I trekked down the ramp to the main doors, all I could hear was the sound of police sirens crying in the distance and the constant beeping of horns as drivers jockey for position through the smoke that was bellowing out from the gutters in the centre of the roads. I thought that the smoke thing was just something that only happened in the movies. I didn't realize it actually happened...... I looked forward to having my eyes opened over the next 4 days while in New York.....

Normally when leaving a plane, I'm used to being met by some Greek guy with greasy hair, smoking a cigarette and carrying a gun or some Spanish dude, with his hand pistol and an odd looking hat, though to be met by a group of people that you have only ever seen in movies was a bit odd. Although I had grew up watching American TV and eating their burgers, until now, it had never occurred to me that I had never actually met one and it was a bit strange when I did.

From the plane to custom control, it was only a matter of minutes. It was nothing like the carry on we had in France. Saying that, this was the most convenient I'd came across in all the airports I have visited as normally you leave the plane; then you have to walk for about a mile; then you queue as you present your passport to some foreign guy with a moustache, then after another long walk, you normally take a seat on a cold tiled, cigarette littered floor as you wait for your luggage to come . Though here, it seemed different. After heading down a short passage way from the plane and down a flight of steps, you were at passport control where we were being filtered; Returning home or Visitor. After a minute of waiting, I was summand to booth 15; Officer Dryden. From their, I could see the luggage carousel turning behind him, and beyond that was the exit, or the entree to the USA. Though first, the routine questions......

Officer "Business or Pleasure"

Me "Pleasure Sir"

"Let me see your return ticket"
"Stand in front of the camera and look into the lense"
"Place your left index finger onto the black sensor"
"Are you meeting anyone while in the USA"

"Em.... I'm meeting a distant relative in Hugo"

"May I have your passport please"

"Certainly Sir"

"Right, would you like to come with me into the office"

"Is there a problem?"

"JUST COME WITH ME"

And there I was, on Christmas eve, with the film Terminal fresh in my mind, being frog marched into an office with another 4 officers at a high desk. When I got there, there was some guy waiting for a translator to come as he had arrived and wanted to claim asylum. Then there was the Spanish women with her son who was crying as they had declared that he had been suffering from an ear infection. And then there was me. The Officer at the high desk started quizzing me with the same questions as Officer Dryden along with.

Officer "Show me your tickets!"

Me "Its an E-ticket off the internet is the......"

mid sentence I was cut short,

"I DON'T CARE WHAT TICKETS THEY ARE JUST GIVE THEM HERE...."
"Where are your baggage tickets"

"What are baggage tickets Sir?"

"You were given baggage tickets, WHERE ARE THEY!"

"Oh, the one that they stick to your passport as you check in????"

Officer Attitude snatched my passport, popped it in a green plastic wallet and barked at me

"take a seat"

10 minutes had passed when an official came in from Air France and reported to Officer Attitude who pointed in my direction. The baggage ticket was then passed to her and off she went, through the door she had entered by. I continued to sit, now feeling a bit on edge of what was happening, though the office was starting to fill up a bit more now which indicated that it was possibly just a routine check. In returns the lady from Air France, this time carrying my bag. Officer Attitude, who revealed he was only about 4ft in height, stepped off his pedestal and down from behind his tall desk to take the bag from the lady and slams it on the metal table in the corner.
" Did you pack this yourself????" I nodded... "Open it!!!" I thumbled through by pockets for my padlock keys and struggled to open it. Eventually I open my backpack, confirming that I never had anything I shouldn't, apart from maybe the 10 bars of Yorkies and 4 slabs of cheese I was bringing over for my Christmas dinner hosts. Officer Attitude seems pretty disappointed and grunts, "right, now open your hand luggage", which I did. "So, you moving to the States!". It was more like a statement rather than a question which I replied to, "No, just visiting" At that point, Officer Attitude, was rooting through my note book which showed everything from connecting flights to accommodation booked, which I think put a stop to any suspicion that I wasn't looking to stay in the States for over the 90 days allowed which I think was feared by customs with me travelling alone. So, all I had to do now was show how much money I had on me and I was released, giving a cheery though relieved, "Merry Christmas"

I didn't have any complaints of me being quizzed, both at Paris and at New York. I guess that's the world we're living in at the minute and these checks need to be done. Plus, it was something else to write about so I'd like to thank both Mr Jobsworth of Paris and Officer Attitude of New York....

Off I went, passing the moving carousels which still had a few cases, a pram and an odd shaped package on it, although there was no one left in sight. Don't you think they would notice that they have forgot their pram??? What's the baby doing???? Never mind, that's not my problem. I had the worry of getting into New York on a busy Christmas Eve.......

I've grew up flying and have never worried about being on board a plane, though the last couple of flights I've taken I've thought to myself, "how is something this big going to get off the ground" and "what's that noise, it didn't sound right", as the landing gear is raised. This flight was no different and even though I'm not religious, I found myself praying to someone from above as I gripped my fists, closed my eyes and listened to what ever music it was at the time being fed through the earphones of my mp3 player. "Please, please, please, take off". The lass next to me must of sensed I was worried, who put her hand on my knee and said, "You a little nervous about flying", I nodded my head sheepishly, with a pet lip as I felt sorry for my self. "1st time?" she asked in a soothing, mother like tone..... I looked at her, confused, "No, I've been nervous lots of times"

During flight I had plenty to occupy me and decided to take full advantage of the personal entertainment system every passenger had. Movies and computer games were the top of my to-do list for the next 6 hours, only to be interrupted by my main meal and a 20 minute attempt to get some sleep which was ruined by the French student needing to stretch her legs in the aisle. Previous flight, we didn't even have a complimentary magazine, which is normally called "Destination" that you find on all flights in the storage pocket in front of you, along with your safety guide and sick bag;
which you hope you wont be needing either of them.

To make conversation with my fellow Europeans, who happened to be on their home grown airline, Air France, I turned to them and said, "I flew with B.A. on my last flight..... It was terrible..... He kept shouting, "shut up fool, I ain't getting on no plane".………. They weren't A-Team fans, so..........

Before I knew it, we were approaching JFK and were preparing for landing. You could see out the window the lights down below, along with, the bright lights of New York in the distance, which gave me an eerie feeling. That was the thought of 9/11; knowing that I was actually sharing the same airspace as they did; knowing I could see the same skyline they did, before the events on that tragic day. It started to hit home that it actually happened and it wasn't just something you seen on the news. As I write this, I've actually been in New York now for 3 days and have really seen how its effected people from this great city and how they are trying to come to terms with it in there own way. Even now, you hear friends on the subway, still talking among themselves about that fatal day which shows, as far as time goes, it wasn't that long ago. With me being locked away in a daydream, I had forgot to notice that we had actually landed. I looked around and we were coming to a halt at the end of the runway. I had arrived......

On stepping off the plane it was like some kind of transporter machine. It was weird. I had entered through a set of doors, sat for a few hours, had a couple of drinks, a bite to eat and watched a movie then left through the exact same doors although this time I was in a different world....... "Welcome to America"

Wow....... Now I know what people mean when they use the term, breath taking..... That's exact what it was when I got my first glimpse of New York City. I knew that it had its fair share of high rise buildings but I never expected that many. I expected a cluster of them, for example, like Perth on my profile picture, although to a bigger scale. But when the bus turned, presenting us with a full view of New Yorks sky line, it was literally breath taking. Sky-scrapers stretched for miles, all lit up, along with the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridge in the distance. A view that was well worth the wait after being on the road for 12 hours. I just wish I got a picture of that view.

Christmas eve started off with me chasing around on the morning, prior to my 12noon flight. My plan was to be at the airport for 10am, although I was still in Tescos exchanging my money at that point and I was yet to sort out my insurance, have my bath or get changed. Come 10.30am I was sorted and secretly prayed that I had everything. After saying goodbye to my Mam, Dad, Sister Brother and Andy I was ready for the 5 minute trip to the airport, the first leg of my day of travelling. On arrival, the airport was obviously a lot quieter to what I'd been used to in the summer as it lacked the buzz from the hundreds of excited families along with the rowdiness from the squads of single lads who would normally all be cashing in on their well deserved 2 weeks off work. While in the departure lounge I barely had time to do anything other than grab a bite to eat for my breakfast. I also managed to lock eyes on my plane that would be taking me to Paris. It must of been the smallest plane in the Air France fleet, where we had to board it by climbing up about 8 steps, while being greeted at the top by the tall, dark, French air hostess; Bonjour; who almost had to crouch her head as she walked the aisle, during flight. Even peoples' hand luggage were to big to go on the plane with them and were put below with the cases. Never the less, it got me to Paris. While aboard a plane, you never realize on how fast you are actually travelling, as when you look below, once in flight you see the ground pass you by like it doesn't have a care in the world. I got an idea on how fast we were travelling when I saw 3 planes fly past us in the opposite direction. As we were flying over where I assumed about London, I saw 3 planes coming towards us in a line then pass just as if you were on a motorway. It was cereal. The 3 planes must of passed with in 10 seconds of each other and that's the first time I've even seen that. I realized that their is flight paths to follow, though I don't think people realize how much in place they are. Same with boats, as I passed over the English Channel, you could see the boats, not heading from France to England, though they were travelling down the centre of the channel, in a row as if they too were on a motorway. You'll probably be reading this, wondering why I'm speeling out such boring facts about motorways in the sky and why I wasn't drunk on fine French wine at this point... Not sure, though I got a picture of Dinnington Football pitch....

I grew up thinking that Newcastle International Airport was the be all and end all of airports and that is was up there with the rest of the worlds airports. Was I proven wrong. Paris Airport; what a size. The buildings were like a concrete maze as the driver of the shuttle bus seemed to drive about senseless for 10 minutes. The terminals from the outside came across as if they were looking for the futuristic look and ran out of money while building them. The road surrounding the terminals were littered with fork lift trucks, baggage karts, what resembled golf buggies and vehicles that wouldn't look out of place in a space station. I had no idea what most of these vehicles were used for. Once inside where we were going through security, we seemed to be treated like cattle as we were hounded up and ushered to different check points, where awaited a straight-faced French customs official who was obviously not happy to be working on Christmas Eve. Or so I was led to believe by her shocking attitude. Or is that just because she's French?? It was hot and clustered with a constant humming noise filling the room. People were getting a bit adjitated, especially when everyone was forced to take off their coats and even belts while being searched. Once through, everyone headed down the dated corridor and tackled the escalator that happened to be out of order; talk about the airport from hell; as we climbed the steps, the dungy dark lit room started to transform into a bright, well lit shopping concourse and the annoying humming noise, that I'd no longer noticed, after putting up with it for the past 20 minutes, turned into pleasant background music which was being faded out by the voices of several nations, and at that point, we were through security and back in with the fellow mainstream travellers ready for our next part of the journey. Before I had a chance to browse around the shops and do anything, my plane was boarding for the States. That's all that stood between me and New York, an 8 hour flight... Or was it??

While in line for boarding, everyone was handed custom and visa papers for accessing the USA. The gentleman handing them out looked like exact how I imagine, a typical Yank. If I had to draw an American, I would draw this man. A bit like the actor in "Love Actually" who plays the American President. So, once I'd collected my custom papers, handed in my boarding pass in exchange for a "Enjoy your flight" there I was, heading down the passage way leading to my awaiting plane, when Mr Jobsworth decided he would perform a random security check. I don't have anything against these checks and agree that they need to be carried out, though when they are performed in a passage way, which is no more than 2 meters wide, in full view to all that are passing to board the plane, it's a bit embarrassing. I even had to take off my sandy coloured shoes, which I was a bit unsure about wearing in the 1st place because of the state of them. I think when the guy said "nice sneakers". He may of just been trying to put me at ease by trying to fill any awkward silences... Nice sneakers..... Who was he kidding!

I can tell it's getting closer to the big off as I've started to receive a steady flow of messages from friends and family over the past couple of days, wishing me well on my travels. Most of them I wont see now until I return after the new year as I'm working tomorrow till 5pm, then off to a friends for some useful advice on New York and Washington after he visited them both only last year. Once I've overstayed my welcome, got my notes, drank my 2 cups of coffee and had my kit-kat it's back to mine to make sure I have everything sorted in time for my Saturday morning flight.

It's been a chaotic last couple of days as I've been finalizing everything. I have now booked all of my accommodation, arranged my airport transfer into Manhattan on the day of arrival, which was in doubt due to the transit strike which is going on in New York, though the shuttle buses were unaffected, and have bought/tested all my accessories that I'm taking away. That's the likes of me buying batteries, downloading songs onto my mp3 player and making sure that my mobile phone and network are compatible in America. Not looking to use it though, especially at 89p/minute, and that's only receiving calls. Though my main concern was incase I took pictures with my new digital camera while away, then got back to find they never came out or were at a poor quality, so yesterday I had a walk along the Newcastle Quayside, taking pictures of the river and bridges etc, testing the camera making sure that when I got home and uploaded the pictures onto the computer that they were going to be at a decent quality; which they were. One thing I did learn was how "trigger happy" I was with the camera and that a 64mb memory card was not going to be anywhere near enough for my time away.

2 hours; in my home town; 74 pictures.

I wouldn't like to predict how many pictures I'd be taking once on my travels.

After advertising myself on eBay, the question, "Where I'd be having Christmas dinner" has now been sorted. I had a couple of people interested in having me which was a surprise and I'm off to have dinner with a family in the Brooklyn area, living in how I imagine, a typical New York apartment. I have had contact with them for a couple of weeks now and they sound like very interesting people. I eventually went for "1 cent", "buy it now" and there was also a "1 cent" shipping cost which needed to be paid by the lucky winner. I wish it did only cost me "1 cent" to ship me there. Saying that, it will cost less than that from Manhattan to where they stay as if things continue, I'd probably be walking it with the Subway and Buses being off due to the transit strikes. I wonder if I need to pay a toll when crossing the Brooklyn Bridge on foot?? If so, I will invoice them on arrival. Ha Ha. Only kidding. I'm grateful for them putting me up for dinner that I'm bringing some traditional British gifts over for them. It's the least I can do.

Passport...... "Check"....... Tickets...... "Check"...... Karaoke Song...... "Check"

Do you know that feeling you get when you're convinced that you have forgot something and you sit puzzled, scratching your head trying to re-trace your last steps to figure out what it was? Then your brain decides it's getting bored of playing games with you and gives you back what's rightfully yours, like the school bully does when he hands you back your pencil case. It's a pain isn't it!

Then once you realize what it was that you forgot, normally you get away with it as it's been something half important like, forgetting to put the rubbish bins out; or you have a DVD rental to go back today; or even forgetting to pick the "mother in-law" up from Newcastle Central Station who is visiting for the weekend. I've also forgot to tell her we moved to Milton Keynes three month ago but that's another story, anyway, imagine forgetting something half important when you're on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, thousands of miles from home and all you have access to is what you are carrying on your back. Things could work out a bit awkward, hence the importance of getting prepared before going. I've made list after list on things I feel I'd be needing while away and can't believe my Mam, who thinks that it's a bad idea for me to take my uni-cycle and my "Class of 94" School Photo, though that's the advantage of making a list as I can note down things I want to take, then delete them off as I prioritise what and what's not needed, leaving me with the content of my backpack for the 16 days. I just hope I find my detachable smaller backpack that attaches to the main bag which is used as a day sack when trekking around the likes of New York City or the hilly streets of Hollywood in search of the famous "9 Lettered Landmark".

I've recently had to purchase a stylish bum-bag, if there is such thing. In my defence, the bag will not be visible as it'll be under my top layer of clothes, storing the likes of my passport and travel documents which will need to be kept on me at all time, even when asleep, just incase it decides to go far a walk without me and not return. Then I'd be stuck....

I'm still deciding on what clothes to take as I'll be flying into New York, where I'm being met by "snow blizzards" and his friend, "strong winds", then a couple of weeks later, flying home from sunny Los Angeles with shorts and flip-flops on. It's a bit of a change.

I have mentioned a few things that I'm needing to take which are important though not as half as important as taking a karaoke song. That's when you learn a catchy, popular well liked song inside-out so when asked upon you can get up in front of a crowd of people and bluff your way through. I mean, I have to get up at least once at some point through out my trip. Being away, in another country, miles away from home, possibly not going to see anyone there ever again, I have to have a karaoke song. I feel the art of karaoke is simple and that is just knowing the words and being able to sing them in time with the background music. It's that easy that I have never bothered to learn one in the 27 years I've been on this planet for. That's it, out comes the walkman, pencil and pad while I attempt to learn at least one song..... Now I just need to find the right song......

You know its mid December when "Thanks" is replaced with "Have a Merry Christmas", as you say farewell to any random you may be speaking too. Whether its the lady serving you in the cafe, the fellow dog walker as you pass them in the park or the gentleman who held the door open for you in the petrol station. It is certainly the season of good will and to top it off, I'm spending it in New York.

The thought of touching down in Manic New Yorks JFK on Christmas Eve gives me goose bumps with excitement. From being ushered from my Boeing 777 Plane to the concourse of terminal 4 to gather my 20kg backpack; everyone buzzing about, all with a place to go and a different story to tell; the 20 minute drive while being fed stories by the New York old-timer taxi driver with his flashing Santa hat and mini Christmas tree on the dash board, to seeing the last minute shoppers trudging through the snow in the biggest city in the world, making best of the time they have left before the shutters are drawn and the 2,300 employees of New Yorks retail shops are able to merge with the gridlock traffic, allowing them to make their across-town journey home to their awaiting loved ones.

Though there is one thing that will make Christmas that little bit better and that's experiencing Christmas, New York Style. What I've done is advertised myself on eBay, seeing if a New York family would like to take in a British traveller for Christmas dinner. Who knows, someone might take me in, a lonely lad from the North East of England, all alone, miles away from home who sits here strumming the violin feeling sorry for himself. Ha Ha.. On a serious note, I thought it is worth a try and have the security of eBay's feedback system and records to make sure I don't get into the wrong hands, though I'm not very sought-after at the minute as I'm yet to receive any bids, though there is still a few days to run and a few watchers on the auction. I've explained that I'm not looking to gain financially and have said I would refund what ever the final bid may be, if any. So who knows, I'll keep yous informed if I get any offers......

Back in 1999, I spent a year backpacking around Australia where I loved every minute of it. The travelling, the meeting new people from all over the world, the running out of money, the hostels, the places, the weather, the whole experience, it was amazing. It opened my eyes in so many ways and has gave me so many stories to share. I covered over 16,000 miles while there and decided, "This is the Life for me". Even before returning home I was trying to decide on where to go next. Africa, Europe, Asia, The States???? Decisions, Decisions....... I had it all figured out; no more 9 till 5; no more de-icing the car in the mornings before work; no more 1 week holidays to some holiday resort in Spain.... I had the travel bug.

Though things don't always work out as planned do they? Not long after returning and meeting someone, I was to become a father and for obvious reasons, my priorities had to change. So at the minute I'm working 9 till 5, I'm de-icing the car in the morning though the travel bug still burns inside. So much so, that I get a buzz from just watching the opening 15 minutes of the film "The Beach" where it highlights the life of travellers in their hostels, buzzing about unexplored city centres, living out of a backpacks. Memories......

I'm no longer with my sons mam, though I'm very much part of his life and would never leave him for longer than maybe a couple of weeks, and even then I would miss him like mad. Though at Christmas I don't get to see him as much as I would like too and often find myself moping about the house feeling sorry for myself.... So this year I have decided, if I'm going to mope about, I might as well do it in a different Country.

The Plan.........

Over the Christmas Period I'm flying to the USA, and look to travel from the East to West Coast in 16 days. While I'm there I hope to keep a journal to look back on and to keep my friends and family updated on my adventure. Hence this log.

To bring you up to date......

I started planning this trip 6 weeks ago. Places like China, South Africa and Mexico all crossed my mind but the front runner at that point was Thailand. It wasn't till I had a night out with a couple of lads I used to work with, Mark and Jamie where I decided to consider the USA. They had both been there and spoke highly of it. The States was somewhere I always looked to visit, so the States it was..... The first thing I done was purchase the Lonely Planet Travel Guide, USA Edition. A must have for all travellers I feel after putting her sister to good use; Lonely Planet Travel Guide, Australia Edition a few year back. When I first mentioned I was looking to go to America for Christmas a few people looked upon it as if I was just saying it and wasn't going to follow it through. Those people obviously don't know me that well...... Normally when I put my mind to something, or say I'm going to do it, I do it. The key to it is getting the idea stuck in your head and you'll not want to let it go. My Mam and Dad were going to report me missing as my daily visits for my tea stopped while I spent hours checking sites on the internet looking for ideas and places to go. The manager of the local Travel Agents thought I was on the Pay-role as I was there every second day asking questions, pricing up flights, gathering literature. I had no intention on booking my flights there; nor did I look to get my accommodation there; hell, I didn't even intend to exchange my currency there; I was there for 1 reason and 1 reason only and that was just to talk about it, to get excited on the thought of going to America, to get the idea drilled into my head. Once that happens, it is then when you make sure the trip comes off.

When I started to think where I would visit, I planned for the North East. The likes of New York, Washington DC, Boston, Niagara Falls etc. Then someone who responded to a post of mine on a travel forum suggested to go across country as I would see more and it would prove to be just as cheap, which it has. Every time I though I had it all worked out, things changed. I plan another thing, then again, something changes, though that's the excitement of planning the trip. So after studying a map, looking to see where I would like to visit I came up with a list of places as long as my arm. Obviously that had to be cut down, the list that is. Other questions kept cropping up too.

"Where do I start from"
"Do I fly home from the same place"
"How do I get from place to place"
"How long do I stay in each place"

I spent hours pricing on different routes across the Country as at this point the only thing I was sure on was that I would be flying into New York on Christmas Eve and flying home on the 9th of January, though from which airport, I was still undecided. The thought of New Years Eve in Time Square did appeal to me so I started planning around that. Arrive on 24 December, New York for few nights, down to Washington, Back up to New York for New Year then off up towards Boston and Maine. Had I cracked it, was that to be my route??? It was just then when something else would have a bearing on where I would be going. I have family in the States who would like me to visit them. A place called Hugo, population of 890 people, which is in Colorado; not far off Denver; home of the Rocky Mountains; Perfect. That's when the Coast to Coast hit home and the trip around the North East scrapped. The spending New Year at Time Square scrapped too as I didn't fancy still being in the same place I started out in, 7 days into my trip, especially when I still had over 2500 mile to cover. Plus I thought spending New Years Eve with family would be better, even if I have never met them. At last, the trip was taking shape as I had now decided to fly home
from Los Angeles as the thought of back-tracking to where I started from didn't appeal to me. I thought I may as well travel to somewhere I haven't seen. Hence the reason I decided against visiting Boston in the North East as again, I would have to travel up the coast, then back down again, returning to New York.

At this point, I booked my International flights, even though my travel while in The States wasn't set in stone. No turning back now.

Leave Newcastle Upon Tyne, 12noon, Christmas Eve,
Arriving in JFK, New York (via Paris), 6.30pm Christmas Eve

Returning from Los Angeles, 6.20pm, 9 January
Arriving back in Newcastle (again, via Paris) 4.00pm, 10 January

Arriving in New York on Christmas Eve, the first place I'll be going is to see the massive Christmas tree which was on the film "Home Alone". I think it's in Rockerfellers Park. Just hope it's snowing.

My first 4 nights I'm spending them in New York. Where abouts in New York, I'm still undecided though I have a couple of places in mind. Also, where to visit while in New York is also undecided, but again, I have an rough idea. From New York I'm travelling down to Washington DC to visit the White House and other sites. I feel 1 full day, 2 nights is ample for Washington and what I'm after seeing. With the size of the USA and cheap internal flights throughout the country, I decided to do most of my travelling by air. All but the New York to Washington where I'm looking to take the 2 hour Train ride south to the Capital, taking in the sites. The dates that I've chose to travel by air within The States was influenced by the price of the tickets as a day either side then the flight prices were shooting up for some reason, so I carefully selected these dates though have worked out well. From Washington, on the 30 December I'm flying to Denver, arriving about midday, where I'm being met, then drove to Hugo. Hugo should be fun.

So, that's my route planned to about half way, with still 8 days or so to spare. A stop gap between Hugo/Denver and Los Angeles is needed???? Mmmmm, not really a hard choice. If your visiting The States, you have to visit bright lights of Las Vegas!

And at that point, I had my route sorted.

New York 4 nights
Washington DC 2 nights
Hugo/Denver 4 nights
Las Vegas 2 nights
Los Angeles 4 nights

Que the booking of my internal flights...... Priced every where and was quoted best price of £300, rang back few days later and was told that they had to ring their company again to re-price and this time managed to get my 3 internal flights for only £114. I couldn't believe it.

And that is me up to date. I'm still yet to book accommodation, and don't know exactly where I'll be visiting once in each City, though I'll keep you up to date over the next coming weeks and through out the trip.