East bound and down

The truest pleasures in life are most evident when, after a period of their absence or subsistence on their poorly executed imitations, one returns into their fold. Like a long lost lover's embrace, such a reunion sees one's stony hearted indifference give way to weak legged rapture and a rekindling of joy most sweet as the world seems more colourful, the air more pure and life more wondrous.

Thus was the case when we found Espresso A Mano, the only coffee shop we've managed to stumble upon in the USA that serves a palatable brew. Palatable, however, does not do justice to really one of the finer coffees from which I've supped. Indeed, what made this revelatory discovery all the more pleasant was the fact it was a two minute walk from our apartment in Lawrenceville, Pittsburgh, the up-coming hipster 'hood of Steel City.

Forced to reside there after discovering that Pittsburgh, like so many US cities, doesn't have even a single hostel, we were pleasantly surprised to find an entirely habitable loft apartment, replete with balcony and functioning kitchen. The only downside was that in squeezing all three of us in there, Otto once again had to pull out his Coachella air mattress while Kip and I established a demilitarized zone down the middle of the double bed as a paltry defense against the spooning impulse of the restless dreamer.

Pittsburgh, however, was only slowly reached after Otto insisted we detour via Falling Water, one of Frank Lloyd Wright's many renowned architectural triumphs. Not at all interested in it, let alone the falling water from the sky that twisted ever more my snarl of miserly distaste at an $8 entrance fee, the visit was redeemed by the fanatical zeal of the one man wolf pack, Otto.

While Kip and I listlessly wandered, waiting for Otto to slake his thirst for old people sightseeing, and the tour lady denied my request to utilise one of the shiny looking walking sticks, we could not fathom the lengths to which Otto would go to see inside Falling Water, an admission too dear in pennies and time for his otherwise consumption.

Mountain goat-esque, Otto clambered up a shelf of rocks to penetrate the formidable defenses of the money-grabbing trust, disguised by the lashing rain and eyes glinting with a yet unseen menace. Despite his best attempts to avoid security within the walls of Falling Water, after a brief mosey Otto had the twin pistols of old-people-tourism justice brought to bear on him: disbelief and polite ejection.

Looking disheveled, wet, but elated, we found him in the gift shop, busily buying his father a tacky t-shirt.

Well played.

Pittsburgh, while lacking the opportunities for Otto to demonstrate his rock-scaling abilities, was otherwise a rather indifferent experience. More of a city than the ghost-towns up through the mid-west on the way to Chicago, but paling in comparison to the bigger cities of the coast, it seemed a bit of an afterthought, its main purpose, as well as the defining theme of its populace's dress, seeming to be the propagation of another football franchise.

Our little loft apartment did, however, provide a much needed opportunity to recoup good health after the much maligned - and deservedly so - traveler's diet. Indeed, in the land of the deep fried it is hard to find a meal where the vegetables do not come in deep fried potato form, and the protein isn't in some kind of batter. While such trifles are delicious and fleetingly fulsome, the grim lower intestinal reality is one with which I can only contend for so long.

Thus it was that with steely resolve we went on a vegetable buying pilgrimage to a big organic supermarket, the notion of which seemed positively alien within US shores. Stocking up on grillable veg was but step one of my multifaceted hi-fibre plans, but I'll spare you the minute details. Suffice to say the plan played out to thunderous success.

While Pittsburgh wasn't exactly overflowing with things to do, Otto and I went on a cable car ride that led to a rather spectacular view of the city, even if the panorama will not win any postcard prizes soon, while Kip and I engaged in our usual fiendish devotion to tracking down local food haunts, visiting Primanti Brothers and Tessaro's.

Primanti Brothers, favoured by international gourmet Adam Richman, was our first stop as Otto wandered around Carnegie Mellon in search of a professor with whom he was to have discussions regarding things most mysterious and arcane. Home of sandwiches famous for having piles of fries and coleslaw in them, as well as embracing the American spirit of more is better, straddling this behemoth with one's jaws requires 5 to 10 minutes of pre game warm up.

Tessaro's, meanwhile, was simply another burger place with claims beyond its means. That said, their wood fired grill did imbue my 3/4 pound patty with some moreish flavour, even if I wasn't quite prepared to claim best-burger-ever. Highlight of our visit here, however, was our charming waitress.

Thicker than the Primanti sandwich, she recommended a magazine to us which she took with her every time she went home to Philadelphia to visit her family. Finding a copy of it for us, we were regaled with all kinds of exciting journalism, most of which was grammatically unsound, as well as a 12 page section of 'jokes' with sections including 'your mum' and 'funny put-downs'. While I have since misplaced my mustard stained copy of this rag rendering attempts to transcribe its terribleness wholly reliant on my memory (i.e. pointless), I do recall one full-page ad in it advertising a hub of nightlife which our kind waitress recommended. It consisted of a circle bearing the name of the venue, and in the centre of it was an angry looking midget who, according to our friend, ran around the venue giving shots to people, shooting them with water pistols, and so forth.

How could we resist?

Drawing upon several days' worth of willpower, we somehow ended up not at the midget terrorised venue, but at perhaps our grungiest dive bar yet, waiting to meet up with a friend of Otto's. So murky one could barely see, an issue redoubled by the allowing of smoking within its low slung ceilinged interior, it was like emerging from a cave when we ended up leaving to meet up at a gay bar. Not necessarily my number one choice, and one Kip feared with a passion that made me slightly curious, we headed out.

Since we were going to Otto's friend's lesbian friend's (yet it makes sense) deck party, the relocation to a gay bar with a deck was both natural and purely logical and our tagging along merely embracing the spirit of the evening. This venture was enlightening, however, as I learned more of Kip's fear. Indeed, sent as he was to the bar in search of a drink called 'smurf cum', he returned with his buttocks pinched red by invisible hands and full of smurf cum bought for him by sly twink-seeking bears. Who would have guessed it? Kip is the gay man's lolly pop.

Pittsburgh gave way to Virginia, a stop off again in lieu of Otto's connections across the US - but first via Espresso A Mano where Kip, the most avid patron, was bestowed with shirts and business cards to honour his dedication.

Virginia, to its great honour and disrepute - well at least Gainesville/Manassas where we were staying - is possibly the worst place I've ever had the great displeasure of visiting. Basically strip malls, malls, and fast food connected by highways, which, to the unwary such as us, become multiple mile wrong turns, with a 5 minute drive blossoming into a 30 minute festival of frustration.

Soundly depressing, I cannot begin to imagine why anyone would want to live here, a place where one local said all there is to do is "eat and have sex". Whilst ostensibly pleasurable enough, this actually is code for drive up and down highways to eat at the fast food chain of your choosing, then look after the baby you had when you were fifteen.

On the plus side, I derived endless amusement from the pronunciation of Manassas.

So it was that I left Virginia with glee, bound 1 hour north east for a much needed return to civilisation in that bastion of democracy, freedom and strangely engaging monuments that is Washington DC.