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Discovering The Real America

Stories about places seen and people met as Moragh travels solo in the USA

My Much Travelled Red Coat

My Much Travelled Red Coat

February 28, 2017 by Moragh Carter Leave a Comment

Me in my red coat in the atrium of the Opryland Hotel.

Me in my red coat in the atrium of the Opryland Hotel.

My Much Travelled Red Coat

My red coat has crossed the Atlantic almost as many times as I have, and that’s a good many times. If I’ve counted right, it will be twenty-six times, between 2007 and 2016, counting the outward and return trips. If it could talk, I’m sure it would have some interesting tales to tell. It is my favourite warm coat, with a quilted lining and some fake fur round the collar. As I’ve travelled around, there has been many a time that I’ve been very glad to have it with me.

Extreme temperature variations are common in the States, hot in the day and cold at night, and often surprisingly chilly in summer evenings. During one autumn trip I went to visit my sister flying from Florida up to Boston, MA. I’d left Orlando in the 70s F, arriving in Boston to temperatures just above freezing, with snow threatening and a bitterly cold east wind. Boy, was I glad of my red coat that trip. In fact, it was so cold I had to borrow an extra fleece off my sister to put over my sweaters under my coat.

Braving the Elements

Another time, early May this time, I went to a one-day, open-air, music festival in Livingston, TN. The weather has been quite mild in the days leading up to the festival. But things changed when the day of the festival arrived, when a cold front blew in. It rained all day and a bitterly cold wind was blowing. The bands and singers were playing in an open-sided tent, through which the wind whistled, but at least it gave some shelter from the incessant rain. I wore my thickest sweaters, a sleeveless fleece and a scarf, over which I wore my red coat. I also had my hat and gloves on. Wearing all that, I just about managed to stay warm enough through the day, but I enjoyed the music in spite of the weather.

My red coat’s solo trip

Another year, after again spending a few days with my sister, we were standing at the train station waiting for the train into Boston. My sister was living in a small town about 15 miles out of Boston. That morning, she was going into work at the main hospital and I was heading to the airport to fly down to Nashville. That was when I suddenly realised that I’d left my red coat on the hook in her hallway. I was wearing my lightweight jacket that day, as the weather was very mild, so had clean forgotten about my other coat. If we’d gone back for it, we would have missed the train and we’d have both been late arriving at our destinations.

I had planned to be spending several days in Nashville, so the next morning my sister parcelled my coat up and sent it by express mail to my hotel in Nashville. It was an expensive trip for my coat, but, although I’d asked my sister how she wanted me to pay her, she never did tell me … so I guess I still owe her. So that’s how my coat got to travel on its own, unaccompanied by me, via UPS, on the next leg of its journey. At the end of its solo journey, a couple of days later, I was mighty glad to be reunited with it, not least because my house keys were in one of its pockets.

Houston and Galveston

During another trip, I’d flown to Houston, TX, to spend the weekend with my cousin and his wife. On the Saturday morning, his youngest grandson was celebrating his first birthday with a party at a local play park. I’d misjudged the weather that morning and I’d left my red coat back at the house. I soon regretted this, as the wind was much cooler than I’d anticipated. However, I did make sure that I was wearing it the next day when we went on a ferry trip across Galveston harbour.

Visiting the Opryland Hotel

On one of my early trips to Nashville I met up with my friend, Arlene. I had originally made contact with her in about 2005 through MySpace and we first met face to face in 2007 during my first trip to Nashville. The following year she took me down to see the Opryland Hotel. This is a huge complex and is very grand inside. There are shops, grand hallways with massive, floor-to-ceiling, murals on the walls of some of them, grand staircases and beautiful tiled or carpeted floors. The mural depict scenes of Nashville in times past.

Many of the bedrooms are overlooking their indoor garden, a massive atrium, covered by a glass roof … like a huge conservatory. It has waterfalls and cascades, beautiful flowers and ferns, and there are multi-level walkways throughout. We spent several hours looking round the place, enjoying it.

Just three years later, in 2010, the whole area was badly damaged by the worst floods that Nashville had ever known. When the Cumberland River topped the flood barriers, after cresting at nearly 52 feet above normal, it inundated the hotel and the atrium with ten feet of water. It took about eighteen months for the restoration work to be fully completed, though the hotel did reopen six months later.

http://gadling.com/2011/08/23/after-the-flood-nashvilles-rebuilt-gaylord-opryland-hotel/

My Red Coat is still travelling

These are just some of the highlights that spring to mind about the adventures of my much travelled red coat. There are many more untold tales and I’m sure there will be more to come, but this is all for now. Feel free to add any comments you wish or if you have any questions, please ask.

Flight, My Stories, Travel Tagged: coat, jouney, travel, weather

I just missed Hurricane Matthew

I just missed Hurricane Matthew

December 31, 2016 by Moragh Carter Leave a Comment

On October the 4th 2016 I flew into Orlando International airport, missing Hurricane Matthew by just two days. Of course, when I booked my trip I had no idea that there would be a hurricane at all while I was in the States. I had chosen to fly in October rather than the beginning of September, partly due to another hurricane forecast.  This was for Hurricane Hermine, a category 1 hurricane, which became the first to make landfall for eleven years.

Hurricane Matthew was forecast to be a bad one, and so it proved to be. At category 3 at its offshore centre, it was the strongest one to affect the east coast of Florida in eleven years, even though it didn’t quite make landfall. It did, however, travel parallel with the coast, just offshore, causing high winds, storm surges and torrential rain. These combined to cause a lot of damage up the east coast of Florida and into south-east Georgia and South and North Carolina.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Matthew

Most people on the plane I flew in on seemed to be totally unaware of Hurricane Matthew’s approach. I never heard once anyone mention it and I didn’t have the heart to draw it to their attention. It would have only caused them to start worrying about it before they needed to. They’d find out about it soon enough. They would get plenty of advice about how to prepare for it, after they had landed. Many of them were heading to Disneyland and the people there were used to dealing with hurricanes.

A Change of Plan needed

I had intended to stay two nights in Florida before moving up north. However, my friends, who I had planned to visit early in my trip, were all busy preparing for the arrival of Hurricane Matthew. So I cancelled the second night I’d booked in Sanford, and headed up into Georgia. Fortunately, I booked a room for that night in Macon, GA, before I left.

Arriving in Macon, after a six hour drive, there was not a room to be had anywhere in that area. This was due to the sheer number of people who were evacuating their homes and heading north. I learned next day that, during an evacuation, traffic flow on the south-bound lanes is reversed on the Interstates. This meant there were six lanes of traffic heading north on I-75.

As I was booking in, the hotel receptionist was fielding calls every few minutes from people looking for rooms. She was telling them all the rooms in whole area were fully booked and that their best bet was to head for Atlanta, almost two hours drive further north.

Keeping Track of Hurricane Matthew

In order to keep myself updated about its progress, I regularly watched the ‘Tracking Hurricane Matthew’ news channel. At one point there was a fear that, after it had travelled up the coast, it would circle round over the ocean and come round to hit the Florida coast a second time. I believe this had only happened once before since records had been kept, but fortunately this second hit did not materialise.

The next day, I cut across into Alabama. To continue on up towards Atlanta, my usual route, I risked getting stuck in a traffic jam for hours. I phoned a friend who lives in north Alabama and we arranged to meet up in Fort Payne that evening.  When I arrived, she and her husband treated me to a meal at the Cracker Barrel restaurant. After parting company again, I spent the night at a motel in Rainsville, just six miles further up the road. Then the next day I continued my journey on into Tennessee.

I was glad to learn that all my Florida friends suffered only minor damage to their homes and that they were all safe and sound.

My Stories, My Stories, Places and Adventures, Travel Tagged: airport, Florida, Georgia, hurricane, Matthew, Orlando, Orlando airport, Orlando International airport, Sanford, travel

How I met Doc Kazoo

How I met Doc Kazoo

August 20, 2016 by Moragh Carter 2 Comments

During my travels to the USA I’ve met so many interesting people. This story is about how I met Doc Kazoo. My meeting with Doc Kazoo came about as the result of a number of extraordinary coincidences, which began in my home town of Nantwich. But first, for those who don’t already know, I will explain what a kazoo is.

What is a kazoo?

A kazoo is a small musical wind instrument, made out of wood or metal. The player hums into it, rather than blowing. It sounds something like the primitive instrument many people used to make in their school days by folding paper over a comb, then putting it to their lips and humming, making a buzzing sound. I’ve since learned that the kazoo is a popular instrument in jug bands, carnival marching bands, folk and ukulele bands, and it is sometimes used in jazz bands.

George with some of his kazoos

George with some of his kazoos

So what is the connection between Doc Kazoo and Nantwich? And how did I come to be meeting him? After all, we live over 4,000 miles apart, me in the UK, and Doc Kazoo in Florida.

This extraordinary chain of events

The extraordinary chain of events that led to our meeting began in Nantwich, at the annual Jazz, Blues and Music Festival during the Easter weekend in 2014. One band I went to see that weekend was called The N’Ukes (short for Nantwich Ukuleles). While watching them, I noticed that one of the players was playing a small wooden instrument which I didn’t recognise. After the band finished their final set, I went up to him and asked him what this instrument was. He told me it was a kazoo.

My curiosity was spiked

Later that evening, when writing up my on-line diary, I looked up the word ‘kazoo’ to check how to spell it. I was also curious to find out more about these intriguing wooden instruments. As I browsed, one particular website caught my eye. It belonged to someone called Doc Kazoo. The thing that particularly caught my attention was a poster on his site. It was advertising The N’Ukes upcoming gig in Audlem, near Nantwich, the following month. Why, I wondered, would someone from Florida be advertising a Nantwich band’s gig in the UK. After all, they were on opposite sides of the Atlantic, with over 4,000 miles of water between them. Intrigued, I researched further.

What I Discovered

I discovered that Doc Kazoo (real name: George Collins) has a small factory, which he calls The Great AsWeGo Kazoo Factory. It is in a workshop alongside his home in Eustis, Florida. Here he makes wooden kazoos and a number of other wooden instruments. It looked fascinating.

Just ten days after making this discovery, I was due to leave for the USA. Looking at the map, I realised that George’s home was only a half-hour drive from Sanford, where I was going to be staying for the first part of my trip.

I like to keep my journeys short during my first few days, giving me time to get over jet lag. However, a week earlier, I’d found I was going to have some free time the day after my arrival. The person I’d hoped to visit that day wasn’t well and had called off my visit to her. So, before leaving England, knowing that I would have these few hours spare, I contacted George, asking if I could come and visit him. He replied, saying that I was welcome. He gave me his address and phone number, and sent me some pictures to help me find his place. As it gets too hot for him to work later in the day, he suggested that I get there before 11am. So, on a sunny April day, I found myself driving to his place.

Finding Doc Kazoo’s Home

My GPS (SatNav) led me to his home and I could easily recognise which gateway to turn into from the pictures he’d sent me. I turned into a long, tree-lined, dirt driveway, which opened out onto large grassy meadow. As I pulled up I saw his factory, or workshop, on my right. It looked like a large garage, blue-grey in colour, with wide double-doors. It was situated a couple of hundred yards from his house, which I could see further up the driveway. The doors of his workshop were wide open, so, after parking my car, I went over and called his name. George came breezing out and gave me a hearty welcome, ushering me inside.

Doc Kazoo's Workshop

Doc Kazoo’s Workshop

His workshop was crammed full of tools. Racks, holding lengths of wood in different colours, lined one wall. Kazoos, some completed, some part-made, were on small racks on the work benches. Various other wooden instruments were around the work place. The fragrance from all the different types of woods filled the air.

George showed me round before giving me a demonstration of how he makes these kazoos. He first chooses the right piece of wood, then carves out the basic shape before proceeding to hollow it out and shape it. He has created his own design of reed for them, using small pieces of plastic from carrier bags obtained from one particular supermarket. After a lot of experimenting, he had found that the plastic used in these particular bags gives the best sound.

The link with Nantwich

Talking to him, as he showed me round, I found out about his connection with The N’Ukes. I discovered that the kazoo that I’d seen being played in Nantwich was one that he had made. In fact, he had made several for that band. These included some that they would be selling at the Audlem festival to raise money for the charities they were supporting.

George gets orders for his kazoos from people all over the world. For everyone who wants it, he makes a video of their own kazoo being made, which he then ships to them with their order. The video camera he uses to film his work is one designed for underwater use. It’s the only type that will keep the ever-present wood dust out of the workings.

Most of the kazoos he makes are made to order, but he keeps a few ready for impromptu sales. I bought one of them as a memento of my visit. I also took quite a few photos of George and his workshop to show my friends when I returned home.

After he’d finished showing me round his workshop, he showed me his small vegetable garden. It is between his workshop and another building. It is fully enclosed to keep the rabbits from eating his lettuces and radishes, and the other crops he grows for himself and his wife, Lynette Auberjeunois. I was sorry not to have been able to meet Lynette, as she was asleep at the time. She is a composer and flute instructor and she does much of her composing during the night, which is why she sleeps during the day.

George the Photographer

George is also a very keen photographer. His speciality is taking photos of the wonderful sunrises, sunsets and cloud formations, as seen from his home. He also photographs his animals, visiting birds and his neighbours’ horses. Some photos are aerial shots he takes using his drone-mounted camera. Many of his photos are on his Facebook page.

He also told me about his time in the navy, part of which he spent stationed in Scotland, and how he managed to get his own van shipped there, and back, by the navy.

A couple of hours later, we bade each other farewell, saying we hoped to meet again some day.

My second meeting with Doc Kazoo

The following year, in September 2015, he welcomed me back again. My visit was a surprise to him as, although I had tried to phone him beforehand, I’d failed to reach him. It turned out that this was because I had one digit wrong for his phone number. Anyway, as I was going to be passing close to his home, I decided to drop by on the off-chance he was there. Fortunately for me, I got there in time to catch him before he had to leave to take his dog to the vet. He gave me a warm welcome, as before.

Since my previous visit, he’d updated the design of the kazoo reeds. He gave me some to bring back to the UK, both for myself and for Barry, the N’Ukes’ kazoo player. It was good to see George again and we had over an hour together before I had to resume my journey and he had to head for the vets.

I am so glad to have gained George as another friend to add to my ever-growing list of friends on the US side of the pond.

My First Solo Trips, My Stories, My Stories, People, Travel Tagged: Doc Kazoo, Florida, kazoo, Nantwich

Line dancing in Sanford

Line dancing in Sanford

May 10, 2016 by Moragh Carter Leave a Comment

During my first visit to Sanford, I met up with three local line dancing teachers who I had been in touch with by e-mail for some months before coming to Sanford. They were all teaching line dancing classes at The Barn in Sanford, FL.

Back in 2005, I had choreographed a dance to Tennessee Birdwalk, which was Jack Blanchard and Misty Morgan’s biggest hit song. I had asked one of the dance teachers, Janis Graves, if she would be kind enough teach my dance during my visit and she had agreed to do so.

Springing my Surprise

All along my plan had been to get Jack and Misty to come and see my dance. With some difficulty, I managed to persuade them to join me at The Barn one evening … just to come and watch what line dancing was like. Jack and Misty had known about my dance ever since I had choreographed it, but they had never seen it being danced.

They had no idea about my arrangement with Janice, and when they heard their song start to play, their faces were a picture as it dawned on them what I had planned. They told me that they loved the dance, and Misty even had a go at dancing it, even though she is not a line dancer. Her forté, when she was younger, was tap dancing.

During those few days in Sanford, I attended the classes of all three of these teachers. I was surprised to find how many of the dances they were doing were ones that I already knew. I guess the international sharing of top favourite dances in the linedance magazines, and by the choreographers who toured the world, had a lot to do with that. Many other dances they were doing were ones that I found easy to follow and, of course, they taught a few new dances during their classes too. The classes were well attended and I made several new friend there.

My Stories, My Stories, Uncategorized Tagged: dancing, Florida, Jack & Misty, Jack Blanchard, Misty Morgan, people, Sanford

Really Lost – the First Time

Really Lost – the First Time

October 15, 2015 by Moragh Carter Leave a Comment

Orlando International Airport lounge overlooked by the Hyatt Hotel

It was day four of my first trip to Florida, after arriving on Wednesday April 11th 2007, and it was time to head for the airport in Orlando again, this time to get the flight to Boston, Massachusetts, to visit my sister. Airports have never been my favourite places to drive to as they are so easy to get really lost in, with their myriad of junctions and (to me) confusing signage.

I’d just had a thoroughly enjoyable few days in Florida. The hotel where I been staying, the Comfort Inn & Suites in Sanford, lived up to its name and was very comfortable, and the staff were so welcoming. One of the hotel’s best features, as far as I was concerned, was breakfast being available until 10.30 am, as I am not a natural early riser. At most hotels, breakfast is not available after 9.00 or 9.30 am. I had picked this hotel because I knew it was near where my new friends, Jack and Misty lived. It was lovely to meet them, when they came round to the hotel, and I spent far more time with them during the next two days than I expected would be possible. I was delighted to find out how well we got on together.

However, after four nights in Sanford, it was now time to move on.

This story is about how I got completely lost at Orlando airport. I had, in fact, almost got lost three days earlier. I had picked up a rental car the Thursday morning and I took it out for a test drive. Surprisingly, it didn’t take me too long to get used to driving on the opposite side of the road to what I was used to. But there was no SatNav (GPS) in that car and, as I drove round the town exploring, it wasn’t long before I took a wrong turn … but I’ve already written about that episode in my previous post.

Heading back to the airport

After leaving the hotel this Sunday morning, I set off down the FL-417 towards the airport. My first error was when I thought I was in the nearside lane, but discovered, too late, that it was an exit lane. I found my way to a gas station and, after filling the car, the gas station attendant gave me directions about how to get back on the right road for the airport. But, it was when I reached the airport, that’s when I found myself really lost.

On the way I also had my first experience of toll booths, where I found myself fumbling round, trying to find the right change in the unfamiliar currency.

Going Round in Circles

Once I eventually reached the airport, I went round and round in circles trying to find where I should drop off my rental car. I seemed to be able to find every rental company under the sun, apart from the one I needed. I have never felt so lost in all my life. Eventually I pulled into the drop-off bay for another company to ask the way.

The first person I asked couldn’t even speak English, but he called another girl over. She spoke English but she didn’t know where I had to go either. However, she pointed to a security guard, who she said would be able to direct me. He was, in deed, able to help, but I had to get him to write down the directions as the drop-off point I needed was five miles from the airport.

Once I had successfully dropped the car off, I was directed to the shuttle bus which would take me back to the airport. It dropped me off at the terminal I needed and I was safely on my way again. I was mighty happy to have overcome that hurdle.

driving, My First Solo Trips, People, Places and Adventures, Travel Tagged: driving, lost, Orlando, Orlando airport, Orlando International airport, sandford, travel

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Moragh

Author and poet. Traveller. Country music lover. For more, follow me at @moraghc.

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Recent Posts

  • Partying at the Dumas Walker House
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  • A Near Miss … or Two
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Recent Posts

  • Partying at the Dumas Walker House
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  • A Near Miss … or Two
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