John the Greek

The state fair may have been cancelled, but apparently that hasn't deterred many of the food vendors who have set themselves up along one of the roads leading into Bloomsburg.  We received intelligence of this on Thursday and on Friday acted on it swiftly and decisively, like some kind of gastronomic US marines.  We battled the conditions - twenty minutes standing in driving rain, plus an indignant man behind us who abused the staff because they didn't accept credit cards - but it was worth it in the end.

We picked John the Greek as it seemed well patronised.  We both ordered a gyro (which is a bit like a doner kebab, but from the other side of the Aegean) and shared some stuffed vine leaves (which I believe are called dolmades, but since that belief is based entirely on a sketch from the first season of A Bit of Fry and Laurie could well be wrong).  I've become particularly partial to the vine leaves since trying them earlier this year on Long Island, and since we don't really have any Greek places around here I wasn't going to let the opportunity pass without indulging again.

Mrs Walles also got dessert.  Now, for some people just cheesecake alone is good enough, but not for fair-going Pennsylvanians, it seems.  What's better than cheesecake?  Why frozen cheesecake dipped in chocolate, of course.  And what's better than frozen chocolate-dipped cheesecake?  Frozen chocolate-dipped cheesecake on a stick! (Keep up!).  In fact all manner of frozen chocolate-covered items on a stick were available.  I was a bit dubious, which is why I didn't order anything myself, but after trying Mrs Walles's I know to get one myself next time.

We beat a hasty retreat home to eat, before we dissolved in the rain.  It was getting dark so we couldn't see if there were any vendors of more traditional fair fare, like funnel cake or those apple dumplings that everyone recommends, but we'll probably get another opportunity to look later in the week.  There's hope yet of getting some fair dinkum fair food.

Service without a smile

Mrs Walles and I seem to have developed an odd affliction: when we go out to restaurants recently the waitress brings the bill to the table before we've even finished our mains, leaving no opportunity to order dessert.  Now anyone who knows us will attest that we certainly look like people who could be persuaded to peruse the dessert tray, so it seems likely we've just struck a couple of people who want to finish their shift.  Either that or they've decided we look like we've already taken advantage of the dessert tray enough and are withholding it from us for our (in their judgement) own good.

The other night we went to a favourite eatery.  We hadn't been out to dinner in a while and we planned to do the thing properly, but we were denied dessert again.  We'd also been going to order a little something to take home for lunch the next day, but we couldn't do that either.  I guess we could have piped up and said we wanted to order something more, but why should we have to?  And besides, then we'd be dealing with a snotty server and who knows what unsanctioned extras would find their way into the coffee?

This actually hurts her more than it hurts us - we just paid and left and picked up desert from Dunkin' Donuts.  She didn't get as big a tip as she might have, partly because we didn't appreciate the service, and partly because she missed out on 15% of whatever dessert, coffee and lunch would have cost.  It all goes to show that tipping isn't necessarily the good motivator that is supposed to be.  And also that it's easy to find bad service in America.  But - and I may have said this before - at least it's sincerely bad service.  Still, I think I'd rather have insincerely good service than sincerely bad service if it means the difference between a pleasant night out and an evening cut short. 

The cider house rules

Mrs Walles came home yesterday bearing the sad news that that the state fair has indeed been cancelled.  So no funnel cake and freshly squeezed cider for me this year, either.  I'm not sure how this is going to affect our plans: Mrs Walles has family coming in specially and we have yet to see whether small-town Pennsylvania is still enough of a draw without the fair.  Mind you, there is at least one other bucolic attraction that we were planning to show them, some kind of autumnal festivity that I don't know much about.  I'm not sure about the details, but I hope there's cider involved.

Speaking of cider, I wouldn't want you to think I'd turned into an old lush.  That's just what they call apple juice here.  Well, some apple juice.  From what I can tell, Ned Flanders had it right.  Clear apple juice is apple juice, and the cloudy stuff is cider.  Unless it's hard cider, in which case it's the kind of cider I'm familiar with, complete with alcoholic content (or so I assume from talking to people, I haven't actually encountered any yet).  Soft cider (served hot or cold) is a fairly popular drink here in the fall autumn and it has just started appearing on the supermarket shelves.  The weather may be starting to cool but Americans cleverly compensate for this with a number of delicious traditional seasonal treats.  And who would I be to buck tradition?

Fair's fair

The flood waters have receded, leaving devastation in their wake.  Mrs Walles and I took a little walk around town at the peak on Friday and gawped at the water rising almost to the tops of the flood banks.  If it wasn't for the banks then a sizable portion of our town would have been underwater.  Other towns along the Susquehanna River which weren't similarly protected really were underwater, including Bloomsburg, the town that traditionally hosts the state fair at the end of September.

As a result there was concern that the fair may have to be cancelled this year.  Justified concern, given that the fairgrounds were under several metres of water last week.  Although this is the third summer I've spent here I have yet to experience the fair: the last two times I've been here on a visitor's permit and it has run out before the fair starts.  It would be a shame to miss it again as it is, by all accounts, a sight to behold.  It's a bit like a giant A&P show, an extravaganza of farming, entertainment and food.  For months friends and acquaintances have been reeling off lists of stands I have to visit to partake of apple cider, apple fritters, ice cream, pizza, funnel cake, toffee apples and more (I've just realised how dominant a theme apples are in the line up - not that I'm complaining).

It is galling that now I am here for keeps I may still miss the fair thanks to the weather.  Never mind all those people whose lives have been turned upside down by historic floods or even those who rely on the fair for their livelihoods.  I might not get to try fresh apple fritters with cinnamon ice cream. That's the real tragedy here.

Wet, wet, wet

It never rains but it pours, literally for us right now.  On Sunday afternoon it started raining and did that straight through until Thursday morning.  After missing the worst of Irene two other tropical depressions conspired to dump an almost unprecedented quantity of water on central and northeast Pennsylvania.  Pinched in between the remnants of tropical storm Lee to the west and Hurricane Katia far out in the Atlantic, moisture from the south had nowhere to go except over a narrow band over the state.  Fortunately we live on a hill, but parts of our town are already flooded a nail-biting few hours are coming up as the Susquehanna River, the main artery of this part of the world, approaches its crest.  Tens of thousands of people have been evacuated throughout the region.

It's a fifty or one hundred year flood, and is being compared to the terrible flooding caused by tropical storm Agnes in 1972.  Indeed when large parts of th city of Wilkes-Barre were evacuated today, rather than give a list of places that were affected, people were told instead that places flooded by Agnes were to evacuate.  Amazingly that was as specific as it got - if you weren't around thirty nine years ago the local TV station was recommending that you ask your neighbours.  It seems bizarre to me, but then Mrs Walles pointed out that people are like that around here.  If you ask for directions they will include landmarks that haven't existed for years.  "Oh, you want to go there?  Well, you know where so-and-so used to be?"  You're just supposed to know.

Luckily our fate isn't bound up in one of these vague proclamations. I'm most worried about our water becoming contaminated, especially as there doesn't seem to be a very reliable way to find out if we have to boil it.  Maybe you're just supposed to know that, too, from the way the wind is blowing or something.  I'm keeping an eye on the TV just in case they mention it there instead.  That is one revelation in this situation, the round the clock coverage by the local TV of the flooding including warnings and notices specific to our county and town.  Much better than huddling around the radio, as I probably would be in the same situation in New Zealand.

At least this time there are flood banks and, as long as they hold, the devastation caused by Agnes won't be repeated.  It's bad enough, though, for those affected.  And though we sometimes complain about the steep roads leading up to it, we are very thankful for our little house on the hill right now.

Smithsonian

For two days I had to amuse myself in Washington from breakfast until dinner and I spent the majority of that time in various museums of the Smithsonian Institution.  I can't recommend these enough.  Where else can you see the Hope Diamond...

...the capsule used by Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins on their moon shot in 1969...

...the Spirit of St Louis...

...the bones of a Neanderthal...

 ...and Julia Child's kitchen?

Nowhere, that's where.  I spent a whole day in the Air and Space Museum, and then a few hours each on the second day looking around the Natural History Museum and the American History Museum.

Mrs Walles joined me for the last one.  One of the feature attractions there is the Star Spangled Banner, the actual flag that flew over Fort McHenry at Baltimore as the British were repelled in 1814 and which inspired the words to the US national anthem.  It's not in a good state, having had bits snipped off over the years as souvenirs, and like the documents in the National Archive it is too fragile to allow photography.

Another noted attraction of the American History Museum is the collection of First Ladies' gowns.  Mrs Walles and I enjoyed speculating on the origins of some of the convoluted connections between early First Ladies and their respective presidents.  A surprising number of wives were absent, and two presidents had remarried while in office.  Quite a few First Ladies were sisters, daughters or nieces or in-laws.

Huge geek that I am I was very moved to see things like the Apollo 11 capsule in the Air and Space Museum.  But I was also moved by another spacecraft there for entirely different reasons.

That is SpaceShipOne, which one the X Prize a few years ago for being the first privately built vehicle to reach space (and which Richard Branson is now trying to commericialise).  But it was significant for me because when I decided to have a go at this writing lark back in 2003 the very first article I had published was about the X Prize.  I remember that it had an illustration of this very craft accompanying it, and now I've seen it in the flesh.

Back when the Smithsonian's collection was still housed in one building it gained the nickname of "America's attic", from the enormous jumble of things that it contained.  And while it has been split now into about a dozen museums, their close proximity (most are on the Mall) means you can still get that effect by meandering from one museum to the next and taking in as much as you can.  I only took in a tiny amount of the museums I visited - and there are still museums I didn't even get to - so I'll definitely be going back

Oh and did I mention that they are all free?  The US taxpayer spends almost a billion dollars a year funding all this for the greater good of the nation.  The Smithsonian really is a remarkable thing.  It was created out of a bequest by a British scientist, James Smithson who died in 1829.  He never visited America but left his fortune to the US government to increase and diffuse knowledge.  From what I've seen I'd say they've lived up pretty well to his wishes.

The Squirrels

The last couple of days we've tried a different tack with putting nuts out for the squirrels.  Instead of throwing out great handfuls of nuts at once, which attracts a big and annoying flock of blue jays, we've just been dispensing one or two at a time as demand dictates.

One of the squirrels apparently isn't too happy with this scheme.  He had figured out that he could attract my attention by jumping on a chair near the glass door.  But when I went into the next room he realised this wasn't working so decided to up the ante.  I was sitting on the couch when I heard a thump and then discovered he had climbed up the outside of the screen door.

(Incidentally, if you look very close you can see why I'm so sure he's a he.)  I'm not sure if he thought he'd be better able to attract my attention or if he just wanted a better look inside to see where Mrs Walles and I were.  It was quite adorable, though I'm now trying to discourage him from repeating the stunt in case he tears the screen.

Here's a tip

Last night I was discussing the blog with an acquaintance and I said one of the things I was trying to get across was all the unexpected little differences between New Zealand and the US.  Since we were in a restaurant I gave the example of having to hold on to your cutlery between courses (not that I said cutlery, since that only means knives here - yet another little difference).

I almost brought up tipping as an example, too, but then realised it wasn't a very good example because I knew about tipping before I came here.  What I didn't know, however, was the details and mechanics of it all.  It's been an adjustment, but it's just something you have to get used to.  Initially I was reserved about handing over tips because in New Zealand I think that many people are embarrassed to take a tip.  But here they want your money, and many don't mind fawning over you to get it.

If you go into a restaurant and order some food eventually the bill will arrive.  The first thing you have to do is take the total and add on 15-20% (and in your head, no less...I mean c'mon!).  As a New Zealander, with a mild repugnance towards the idea of tipping, it took me quite a while to get used to adding on so much for service, even when the service is quite bad.  There are people who say that you don't have to tip at all if the service is bad enough, but I've yet to see anyone walk the walk on that one.  But it's just a part of life here, and it's how the waiting staff make their money, so even though everyone bemoans tipping they all go along with it.

It took me even longer to get used to how the tip is paid.  The exact approach depends on whether you are paying by cash or card and whether you have exact change or not.  Many places you pay at the table, others you pay at the counter.  There are apparently subtle clues to tell you which is which, though I haven't become attuned to all of these yet.  Tips are only for service, so in places where you aren't served at your table you don't have to tip...except that there are some slightly ambiguous places like the barbecue joint we frequent where you order and pay as you enter but someone brings out your food.  That mystery was solved when we found that they had a tip jar near the door.

Restaurants aren't the only things that demand tips, though.  When you arrive at any reasonably big hotel you practically have to fight off the small army of bell boys trying to snatch your bags so that they can get a tip from you.  If the doorman of the hotel gets you a cab you have to slip them a couple of bucks.  And the cab driver needs a tip - notionally in the same 15-20% range but generally whatever makes the fare up to a good round number which is often much more than that.  Airport shuttle drivers get a tip if they lift your bags.  Hairdressers expect a tip.

If you're living in a small town like we are then tipping isn't a day to day thing.  But in a big city like New York the money flows very freely - has to flow freely or the service dries up.  On the other hand if you tip well, and they remember you, you will often get the royal treatment.  So it can be hard for the tipping-averse to get accustomed to, but in the end it is worth it.  That's my tip to you.