This is a running commentary of my adventures in Pennsylvania and nearby states from 14^th March to 5^th April 1998.

I've currently got 3 weeks of training courses to deliver; 1 week in Pittsburgh, 1 week in Philadelphia, then another week back in Pittsburgh. Consequently, I decided to drive to Pennsylvania and shuttle back and forth between the 2 cities before driving back home at the end.

The weather in Massachusetts just before I left was perfect - blue skies, sunshine and below-freezing temperatures. Saturday morning, I awoke to leave, looked outside, and it was snowing! Yes, a snowstorm had moved in overnight, hitting most of Massachusetts and northern Connecticut. So I set off, driving slowly, heading west on the Massachusetts Turnpike.

Initially, it was slushy snow, mostly rain, so conditions were wet rather than icy. Interestingly, almost the instant I crossed the border into Connecticut, it became drier, and started falling as huge floaty flakes. From the route 84 turnoff at the Mass Pike to about Hartford, it snowed continuously, becoming several inches deep in places. The roads became slippery and treacherous, as evidenced by the 3 cars I saw overturned on the side of the road at various places, with police and ambulances in attendance. I sat on 60mph in the fast lane, along with all the other 4WDs, feeling smug about the poor 2WD guys crawling along at 30mph in the slow lane.

I stopped for lunch at New Britain, just past Hartford, and the snow eased up after that. Again, almost miraculously, as I crossed the border into NY state, the snow stopped, and the sun started to peer through the clouds.

I crossed the Tappen Zee Bridge across the top of the Hudson River - it's ENORMOUS - both the bridge and the river! I managed to video some of it as I was driving across - I hope it comes out OK (holding the video camera with one hand and waving it around without using the viewfinder).

Just over the bridge, I turned left and started to drive south along the "Palisades Parkway" in NJ. It's the other side of the Hudson from Manhattan, and it's gorgeous! All beautiful lawns, trees, parks, etc, and with a wonderful view of Manhattan across the water.

I also stopped off at a little state park called "Tallman Mountain" which is a promontory that juts into the Hudson, and is all unspoiled woodland, with occasional playgrounds, tennis courts, barbecue areas etc., much like Belair National Park. It was quiet, picturesque, and clean. I drove through it to a small village on the riverbank called "Pitman's Marsh" (or something like that). It was like a small English hamlet transported to the middle of the US. Thatched-roof pub, church, and about 10 houses. Lots of little wharves with various size boats moored there. Again, delightful, and in full view of Manhattan Island. Wild!

I got onto the New Jersey Turnpike for the 50 mile journey south. I wished I'd brought a tape of Simon & Garfunkel singing "America" so I could hear the line "counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike". It's become something of a hobby - finding places I've heard in songs. (eg, I once stood on Salisbury Hill listening to Peter Gabriel on the car cassette player singing the song of the same name.)

Apart from the romance of the song, the NJTP is BORING! Dead straight, factories either side, 6 lanes each way. So all I had to do was switch on cruise control and steer, watching for exit 6 to arrive (24, 23, 22, ...) 12 lanes of solid traffic is an awesome sight!

Anyway, after an hour of mindless tedium, I took exit 6, crossed the border into Pennsylvania, and embarked on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Remarkable difference! Gentle rolling hills, quaint stone buildings, lots of forested areas. Similar to Mass, but different in a way I can't quite define - perhaps the trees are a different breed.

Spent Saturday night and Sunday morning in Lancaster - drove around looking at the Amish wandering around in black and smelling the horse-shit that's everywhere. Again, I wish had a tape of the Witness soundtrack to add to the ambience. I think I found the farmhouse where they made the film, but couldn't be sure - videoed it anyway.

Pittsburgh looks quite lovely. The Sheraton where I'm staying is on the edge of the Monongahela River, which merges with the Allegheny River about a mile from here to form the start of the Ohio River (which eventually flows through Evansville, Indiana, where I was a few weeks ago).

I drove back through Pittsburgh central after dinner with the local Candle account manager. It reminds me of Melbourne, with high-rise buildings and brick paving, and lots of clean, new-looking parks and trees. The city centre seemed to be alive, with cars, pedestrians and lots of shops and restaurants.

The few outer suburbs I've seen are all older, 2-storey buildings, housing specialty shops and little bistros. The 'south side', where I'm staying and working, reminds me of the lower east side of NY - lots of weird little shops selling jewellery, kites, health food, games, musical instruments, ethnic food, etc.

It's been overcast and drizzling occasionally today, and I learned that this is normal - Pittsburgh has the second highest number of sunless days in the US - Seattle is number 1.

I drove through heavy rain from Pittsburgh to Huntingdon Friday night. About every 50 miles or so, I press 'scan' on the car radio to pick up local radio stations. In western Pennsylvania, 4 of the 6 that the radio locked onto were broadcasting christian songs and messages - interesting comment on the local community attitudes.

I stayed in Day's Inn at Huntingdon, in a cheap room with paper-thin walls, a noisy reverse-cycle airconditioner, a major highway one side, and a major freight railway the other. I discovered that trains run quite often in this area! (I was reminded of that scene in the "Blues Brothers" where the trains go past continuously.)

I took the backroads to Malvern, a rural village sort of on the western outskirts of Philadelphia. Interesting Welsh place names nearby: Cynwyd, Bryn Mawr, Tredyffrin, Gwynedd, Uwchlan. I wonder how the locals pronounce them, though? I must ask. One of the things I had noticed earlier while driving to Pittsburgh was the number of tunnels everywhere - maybe it's the Welsh influence! These are road tunnels with 2 lanes in each direction passing through the bases of mountains - some were nearly 2 miles long.

In the backwoods of eastern Pennsylvania, at the end of a narrow, winding, potholed road covered with the thinnest scraping of ashpalt, lies the historic community of Yellow Springs. Named for the sulphur-stained warm water that bubbles out of the ground nearby, this village arose 150 years ago to cater for those who believed in the curative properties of immersing oneself in a pool of murky slime that smelt like it had been recently vacated by a group of flatulent hippos.

One wealthy, but obviously unhealthy, resident built an elegant manor house nearby, which has been used variously as a sanatorium, retirement home, film studio ("The Blob" was made there in the 50's), and more recently has been revived as a restaurant. Its name is a mouthful: "The Inn at Historic Yellow Springs". It looks like a typical turn of the century mansion. It features high ceilings, creaking floorboards, an open fireplace, ornate carved wooden balustrades and lots of gilt-framed paintings of old women whose facial expressions suggest that they were able to smell the yellow springs while their portrait was being painted.

The tables are decorated in pastel pink and grey tablecloths, with elegant brass candelabra and rose flutes, with muted lighting from chandeliers high above. Beethoven's sonatas were wafting pleasantly in the background, and snatches of conversation from nearby tables covered topics as diverse as the latest movies and Darwin's theory of evolution. Pleasant, friendly waiting staff attended to me with water, bread, winelist and menu. No pretentions, nor unwanted familiarity - just efficient, self-assured service at the correct level of discretion.

The cuisine was nouvelle americaine - a leaning toward game and fresh local produce, with wild mushrooms featuring heavily. My seared scallops in soy and ginger were succulent, tender and not over-cooked - the sauce a perfect accompaniment. In true American fashion, this was followed by a salad consisting of 6 different varieties and colours of lettuce with a freshly-made bleu cheese dressing. Then came the Continental touch - a lemon sorbet served in a hollowed-out half lemon. Despite being tempted by the venison with truffle sauce, I opted instead for the pheasant and apple pie, having once enjoyed something similar made by Maggie Beer (a highly-respected Australian chef). It was delicious! Tender chunks of pheasant meat with sharply tangy pieces of apple and onion baked in a pastry served on a sauce of white wine with local wild mushrooms (morels and cepes). This was accompanied by a platter of steamed vegetables with a hint of garlic (broccoli, yellow squash and carrots).

The wine list was exclusively Californian and French - not a drop of anything from the Southern Hemisphere! I had two glasses of 1995 Lockwood "Estate Bottled" Merlot from Monterey - an excellent example of Californian Merlot - (ie, not a patch on good old Aussie reds!) They have an extensive cellar here - some examples: 1970 George Latour Estate Bottled Private Reserve Napa Valley Cabernet for $250.00 per bottle; 1974 Charles Krug Special Selection Napa Valley Cabernet for only $150.00; 1966 Chateau Lafite Rothschild for $500.00; 1959 Chateau Talbot Medoc for $400.00; 1983 Roederer Cristal Rose Champagne for $500.00. (I think you get the idea...)

Dessert was a cranberry and walnut tart with white chocholate mousse - light and tasty - the sourness of the cranberries and the bitterness of the walnuts balanced the sweetness of the mousse perfectly. A cup of orange and mango herbal tea, and I departed, feeling satisfied but not weighed down. Definitely worth a return visit.

After leaving Malvern (Philadelphia), I stayed the weekend with friends in Washington (Otto Kroeger and Janet Thuesen). They live on the shore of Lake Barcroft, a privately owned lake 6 miles west of the centre of Washington. Saturday was 26 degrees Celsius and scattered clouds most of the day, with a light breeze. It's actually been HOT! (...and snow in Philadelphia last weekend - weird.)

The people who live around the lake are all old, rich and overweight. Some of the guys come from a technical background and seemed interested in what I was doing in the US, but most just wanted to talk about when they were in Australia, or the fact that their niece/son/cousin/neighbour visited/lived/lives there.

Ramada Pittsburgh is terrible! I pre-booked a non-smoking room, and was told they had none left when I booked in - despite daily cleaning, there was a distinctive stale tobacco smell in the background. (The room was on the 13th floor, too - good thing I'm not superstitious!) The air-conditioning in the room was too hot - I complained twice during the week, and they sent a maintenance man both times, but to no avail. I had the thermostat set on 50F all week, but the thermometer never got below 78F. The pillows provided were solid foam - very bouncy and uncomfortable. I rang room service and was told curtly that they only have one type of pillow. I rang the manager and asked again, and she told me she would investigate. When I came back that evening, she informed me that they don't have any other types of pillow available. They have 3 elevators, but they were constantly out of service or getting jammed between floors (this didn't happen while I was in it, but I heard various other guests complaining about it). Wednesday night I wanted to watch an in-house movie but the system wasn't working and the front desk person could not give any idea of when it would be fixed. Thursday morning, I dropped off some shirts, socks and undies to be laundered by their same-day service ("In by 8:15; back in your room by 4:30pm"). Upon my return, no laundry - phoned the desk - problem with the laundry service - it will be ready first thing Friday morning - but I was due to check out Friday morning, so they promised it would be in by 7:30am, giving me enough time to pack it, check out and get over to my client's building by 8:30am. To cut a long story short, after repeated phone calls Friday morning, the laundry arrived at 8:05am. I just threw it in the back of the car (having already packed and stowed my bags), and rushed over to run my class. Anyway, enough whinging - on to more interesting stuff.

There were several other out-of-towners on the course, so we explored the fleshpots of Pittsburgh each evening after class. There are many micro-breweries and restaurants within walking distance of the centre of the city. The "Old Church Brewery" is, as its name suggests, an old church that has been remodelled, with a working microbrewery where the nave was, and the rest made into a bistro-style restaurant. Their specialty is wood-oven pizza, with exotic ingredients such as goat cheese, artichoke, sun-dried tomato, marinated eggplant, etc. They offer an interesting way of sampling their beers -- a paper sheet is provided with small circles upon which shot glasses are placed containing samples of the beers on offer. Printed on the paper sheet beneath each circle is a full description of the beer. I decided on the "Belgian Cherry Ale", a dark brown, yeasty brew with a hint of black cherry in the flavour. It went well with my smoked duck, fetta, olive and fennel pizza.

After a week of teaching and consulting in Pittsburgh, I decided to drive to New York, spending the night in Williamsport on the way. I discovered on checking my map that my route to Williamsport took me through Punxutawny, where the Bill Murray movie "Groudhog Day" was set. Unfortunately, it was dusk by the time I arrived, so I didn't have time to find anything worth filming. I did manage to see a live groundhog though - they have a zoo in the centre of the town with a glass viewing window - they look a bit like small wombats. I set up the camera to take a shot of me next to one, but he curled up and went to sleep while I was setting up, and ignored my tapping on the glass. I walked around a bit to stretch my legs and noticed a preponderance of scrawny, red-headed males with scruffy ginger beards wandering about. There must have been at least 6 that I saw in different places - all different ages, from late teens to late 40's. Could be a bit of inbreeding maybe? I had dinner in the local hotel dining room there - lots of ancient people in their finery having what must be a regular Friday night dinner. I had a mixed seafood platter and, noticing a nearby person eating an example of it, asked for the fish to be 'broiled' and not fried. The waitress looked me kind of funny, but complied. When it arrived, it was fine - very generous in a hearty country fare style, with a 1950's salad as accompaniment - would have been the same in any country pub in Australia!

I checked into the Sheraton at Williamsport, and was greeted by Eric the Night Manager at the front desk, who effusively welcomed me to the Sheraton, to Williamsport and to Pennsylvania in general. He was a chunky character in his mid-30's with slicked-back thick black hair and glasses tinted slightly brownish-orangish. A few minutes after I was in my room, he phoned to make sure everything was alright, and suggested that I might like to go to their lounge for a nightcap. I accepted the offer, and went into their 'lounge' - it was a 1970's disco nightmare! Loud music, strobe lights, overpainted desperate singles (of both sexes) perched on barstools nursing vodka and orange drinks, eyeing off all comers like vultures at a seal-bashing. I did a quick u-turn and went back to the front desk. Eric wrung his hands with mortification at the thought that I did not find his lounge relaxing, and asked the advice of a nearby co-worker (who looked like another Punxutawny red-head). He suggested Kelly's bar and gave me walking directions, assuring me that it was safe to walk. During the walk, I was reminded of the movies "American Grafitti" and "The FJ Holden" in which all the local lads hoon around in hotted-up cars and pick-up trucks. It was like that here. There are a number of one-way streets in Williamsport, and the lads roar up these almost in convoy, revving engines, taunting one another, shouting good-natured suggestions to the groups of teenage girls out walking the streets and generally having a good time. It was not threatening - just anachronistic. Kelly's bar was what you would expect - about 20 barstools occupied by local men and women all smoking, drinking beer and talking loudly. I had one tequila and cranberry juice and left.

Saturday afternoon I drove down through the remainder of Pennsylvania and entered New York. Having sailed around Manhattan, I had a good idea of the distances involved in my drive as well as the directions in which to head. Once I got to the World Trade Centre area, I was in familiar territory, having walked around it a lot late last year when I was consulting with Bankers Trust. Ah, but that was WALKING, where one-way streets mean nothing. Driving, however, was another kettle of fish. I once spent a frustrating afternoon negotiating one-way streets in Boston, trying to get to Quincy Market. That was a pushover compared to driving in New York. Add manic Yellow Cabs to the equation, and you get some idea of why it took me nearly an hour to get to the Millenium Hilton where I was staying. Another complication - I drink copious quantities of bottled water while driving, and my last rest stop was several hours earlier in Pennsylvania - enough said!

I spent a pleasant evening in New York, having dinner at a Romanian restaurant with some friends who live in the Lower East Side. We drank a couple of bottles of good Italian red, which helped me to have a good night's sleep. Sunday morning, I ate a leisurely breakfast in my room, gazing over the East River towards where the Statue of Liberty would be, if the view was not blocked by the World Trade Centre towers, and drove home to Milford that afternoon.