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I'm in Atlanta, which it is now hip to call ATL. I am visiting my son and his girlfriend, and I am staying in the poshest hotel I have ever been in, at a fantastically reasonable rate, thanks to Expedia. (I have a picture of it on my phone, but I will have to upload it later as this computer in the hotel doesn't seem to have a USB port available.)
I have to do another Deborama's Wednesday Website of the Week, but I cannot wait until Wednesday (I will be mostly on the road to Hattiesburg then anyway) and technicallly I should not call it WWW anymore since it is far from being weekly. But I discovered the Believer magazine, a McSweeney's publication, at my son's apartment, and I have been obsessively reading it ever since. Absolutely brilliant, and I hope they'll forgive me lifting the image, since I am using it to plug their product.
Everybody here is laid off, or about to be laid off. It's quite sad what this recession is doing to those of my kids' generation, as if they haven't suffered enough. It's bad for my generation too of course; getting made redundant just as the verdant pastures of retirement come hazily into view is no picnic, I'm sure. Hopefully, I won't find that out firsthand on my return to Blighty, although it is a possibility.
I am in Atlanta for the start of my fortnight-with-the-family. I have just met Carey's girlfriend Ashley. She is amazingly cute, smart and a great match for him in the personality arena, or so it seems to me. They hug all the time and semi-fondly bicker like an old married couple. She drives a Toyota Camry with a stick shift and she drives like my old high-school buddy and partner-in-anti-social-behaviour Margaret (or Maggie, as I began calling her, and I think it stuck.) I describe the driving style as "like a maniac with a guardian angel", that is, fast, confident and leaves the passengers more breathless and speechless than shaking and scared, as less protected maniacs do. It was actually kind of exciting.
I saw their loft apartment at the Mattress Factory. Nice.
We ate at R. Thomas, which I just cannot recommend enough.
I am now blogging from the Atlanta Public Library, which I also recommend; they're such nice people in Atlanta. I had sort of forgotten over the years.
I just discovered I can't capture a picture to illustrate this post. Oh, well, sorry. You'll have to find your own pictures.
I got an e-mail tonight from the editor of the Schmap online travel guides saying that a photo of mine found on Flickr had been shortlisted to be used in their upcoming Atlanta guide. I thought it would be the one above, but it was not, it was this one of the foyer of Mary Mac's Tea Room, which is also a pretty good picture if I do say so myself. But this other one, which is Lucky Street, downtown Atlanta, on a sunny April afternoon, is one of my favourites ever, and makes me feel all gooey and nostalgic and homesick - for Atlanta of all places! which I haven't counted as home for decades! Funny thing, nostalgia.
NPR has this story about the Atlanta race riot of September 22, 1906. At the time, it was a world-wide story, reported as far away as Italy and France. (The picture left is of a contemporary French newspaper.) In its immediate aftermath, black and white leaders of Atlanta began meeting, the most virulently racist and sensationalist newspaper went out of business. Within 10 years, the movement for black equal rights had turned its back on the accommodationist philosophy of Booker T. Washington and turned to a more activist agenda. However, the race riot has not been taught as part of the history curriculum of Atlanta or Georgia or the US. Until this year, that is, when Georgia politicians re-discovered the lesson and its importance.
I have put the pictures on my website, but they are, like before, not especially user friendly. This link will get you the index, and clicking on the individual names will display the pictures in full size, one at a time. I am going to also put them on a photoblog in a bit; Carey is using a thing called TextAmerica (this is his blog and this is Alix's) so, although I don't like the chauvinistic name, if it proves easy to use I will set it up there. More on that later. I am off to an event of some kind in Cropston with my yoga teacher. I don't know what to expect, so more on that later, too.
This will probably be my last blog post from Atlanta, as I am flying home tomorrow. Wednesday evening I went to a concert with Carey and Alix - Iron and Wine at the Variety Playhouse in L5P. I got to try a martini at the Sweet Lime restaurant (see previous Atlanta post) and I opted for the Thai Tea Martini which was quite nice. I had more crab, more tofu-corn-cakes and then just some edamame, which I shared with Alix, who was also having shushi. This was before the show. Afterwards we went to the Euclid Avenue Yacht Club (note: there are no yachts and indeed no navigable waters within many miles of Atlanta) because it was about the only thing open. I had two vodka-limes. I was hung over the next day. Which was yesterday, a busy and exhausting day. It started with brunch with my very old friend Charles, proprietor of the Atlanta Book Exchange. (He's probably not net-savvy enough to appreciate that I just gave him a link. He says the inventory is online but I couldn't find it; I'll post it later if I can get it from him.) Then we went by the bookstore to chat with employee Jim, an almost-as-old friend and there we bought a few books. Then we went around photographing places we used to live. Then Carey dropped me at a Marta station and I went downtown and visited GSU, my alma mater, and Underground Atlanta (I say don't bother) and then, fool that I am, I walked all the way to Peachtree Center in my new achey-painy but rather sexy sandals. Ow, my feet, my back! I Marta'd back to Inman Park, where Carey picked me up and then we went on a marathon grocery shopping. Then we went to Carey's place, which he rents from and where he lives with Stephen, my godson and his sort-of step-brother. Also living there is John, Carey's uncle. Stephen was out but had promised to come by to see me, and he did, but only for about 15 minutes. When I finally got back to my motel at about 10:30 pm I was beat. Tonight I am making dinner for Carey and Alix in the motel suite kitchenette. Tomorrow is the last day and I don't have much planned, just packing, checking out, hanging out with Carey and starting the long flight home.
Yesterday, Carey and I went to Little Five Points (L5P), a neighbourhood with which we both have history, mostly Carey, from his days of living there, aged 10 to 13 or so, with his father, and his father's mistress, D, who is the adopted parent of his "brother" Stephen, my godson. Yes, it is all very incestuous, which is more or less why I left Atlanta in 1984 for the relative sanity of Minnesota. (Where I was lucky enough to have primary custody of Carey until 1989, when his father took primary custody by a prior arrangement.)
But to get back to L5P, as we walked through the area, Carey pointed out things - Junkman's Daughter has expanded and moved, and the location where it now is used to be a little ghetto supermarket, where Carey and Stephen walked to after school to buy 69-cent burritos and, no doubt, sugary treats. Sevananda, the venerable health-food co-op, has also moved, but it shrank. Ababdabba is still in the same place, and I bought some high-tech walking shoes there and changed out of my painful sandals. We went to a Japanese restaurant called Sweet Lime with dollar sushi, and I made a complete pig of myself eating the most fabulous dinner, to get fortified before the long dusty walk to the brand new Target store on Moreland Avenue. I had two sushis, smelt-roe and salmon, then tofu-corn cakes with chili sauce, then a soft-shelled crab, tempura-fried with a light soy-citrus dipping sauce, and then seared but otherwise mostly raw tuna with soba noodles and two-seaweed salad. Carey had the other of the two crabs and Hawaiian shrimp, which was tempura shrimp with a sweet sauce and veggies and jasmine rice. I had an iced tea and Carey had two Japanese beers, and he used the bottle to give me a quick lesson in Katakana. It was all fabulous, and we were too full to have the yummy-sounding ice cream. They also have martinis, which I would have tried but was too tired to risk drinking.
After becoming even more laden with purchases at Target, we took a taxi, first to drop Carey off at his house SE of Atlanta, then me to my motel here in Buckhead, about 10 miles in the opposite direction. The bill was $45! (Thank heaven for the weak dollar.)
It appears that my motel here has a "business centre" with a computer guests can use for free. There is only the one, and of course, this morning, some guy was totally monopolising it. But anyway, I can easily and freely blog from here. I got in yesterday about 3 pm (plus 5 hour time difference, after getting up at 4 am to be driven by long-suffering DH to Gatwick.) So by 10 pm when I finally tried to sleep I had been up 24 hours. I got to meet my son Carey's girlfriend Alix, who is of course very nice. We went out to dinner and I was craving veggies; Alix recommended a truly excellent restaurant (review to come later.) I went out this a.m. pretty early and after the motel "continental" breakfast, I walked to the Marta station, Marta'd to Midtown and then walked all over there. I have come up with this silly idea of photographing all the places I ever lived, even though a few aren't there anymore. I got 3 so far. Then I had lunch at Mary Mac's tea room, where I also bought DH a cookbook and a feedcap. Then my feet hurt too much to walk anymore so I got a taxi back here. Trivia for the day: The AJC (Atlanta Journal-Constitution) had an almost Brit-worthy headline for the royal nuptials - a Windsor knot.
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