ABQ

Albuquerque, New Mexico. It was at this point that we joined the traditional Route 66. 

The old mother road passes through the downtown area of the city. Having two days set aside for here, we had more time to explore the city and surrounding areas.

After reflecting on my time there, it seems that there are three things that will enhance your life (or at least your time in Albuquerque). 

1) Get a bird's eye view 

A short drive to the edge of the city, and the Sandia Mountains loom on the horizon, providing a sharp contrast of snow against the otherwise arid landscape. Those of us wishing to climb these giants are ably served by the Sandia Peak Tramway; one of the longest aerial tramways in the world. 

In glorious sunshine, we rode the fifteen minute ascent up the side of the mountain. As the gondola swayed, we watched the trees below us; a place where size and scale of reference lost all meaning. 

From the tram station atop Sandia Peak, almost three miles high above the city, we were transfixed; gazing for miles around. Grid lines crisscrossed the orangey brown desert where the city was sprawling out miles below. In the distance it's possible to view the Rio Grande valley and the Redondo Peak. It was a fitting place to reflect on the physical power of nature and the recognition of how small we are in comparison. A better view you'd have to travel for hours to find. 

2) Embrace the past

Driving, and/or walking along the original stretch of Route 66 is essential. I loved the whole feel of the area. Yes, it looked a little run down and it didn't heave with throngs of shoppers, but that is a great part of its charm. 

The architecture of the buildings, and even lamposts and street signs, offered a glimpse into the glory days. Art Deco shapes the sides of theatres, 50s curves and pastel colours adorn the empty shop fronts and this taste of wholesome Americana is juxtaposed with Spanish colonial style structures just to remind you how close to the border you are. 

Stopping and browsing in some of the local shops is not just an act of consumerism. I spent an enlightening time in a well-established Native American shop. The wares on display were just as interesting as museum pieces, and the people in the shop were eager to talk to us about the history of the shop and surrounding area. 

3) Geek out

To be fair, this stage is most exciting if you have seen a low-key little television series called Breaking Bad. 

As this television show was filmed here, familiar sights are all around. We lunched at The Dog House, swung by the White homestead, had an A1 time at the car wash and ended the day feasting at Los Pollos Hermanos. 

You can see how much those with an entrepreneurial mind in the city are trading in on their new found interest by talking to The Candy Lady in Old Town. This old fashioned candy shop is now raking in a sweet profit by flogging tiny plastic bags of crystallised sugar, which can be paraded around as the infamous blue meth from the show. Happy customers entering the shop looking for a fix can even indulge in a photo opportunity with a tub of the blue product and top it off with the Heisenberg hat. 

It may seem that my comprehensive medal podium of ABQ tourism points has missed a vital stop on the whirlwind tour. But I feel it's a stop that should go without saying. 

Clearly, the first port of call would be one of the original Route 66 diners. Refuelling is an integral part of any long road trip, and is particularly poignant along this stretch of road. You can call in at a diner that transports you back to the 1950s. Milkshakes, burgers, hot dogs and a plethora of pies. But the food is only part of the fun; a phrase I never thought I'd say! 

It was a real treat to dine in surroundings that we're so familiar with through years of television and film sets. The vinyl booths, the stools along the bar, the neon coloured lights, the 50s memorabilia covering every spare inch of space, the jukebox, and I believe milkshake never tastes so good as it does out of an ice cold stainless steel beaker. 

This journey was taking us back in time as well as further West. It was time to get back into the driving seat, but we did so worried that we'd never again find a diner that ticked so many boxes of the nostalgic American dream...

The open road

Finally we hit the highway. The type of roads you visualise as being an almost natural aspect of this part of the world. 

These are the roads that you dream about. The type of road that is as far as you can get from the bumper to bumper stress of the M25. The type of road that can seriously be described as beautiful. 

Driving through western Texas and into New Mexico, we passed through some of the biggest space I've ever seen. 

'Space' is the best way I can describe it. The scale of the scenery is just incredible. The roads plow through the endless landscape on a journey that seems to never end. Being used to the small, winding, country roads of England, I found the sheer presence of empty space breathtaking, making up a view of boundless beauty. 

The stereotypical image of this desert landscape was reinforced by the punctuating appearances of the long cargo trains. These railroad beasts often ran alongside the road for miles at a time. By the time the last carriage passed us, the first would surely be arriving at the next town. 

Not that it would be likely that there would be much going on in the next town. The few one-horse towns we passed through were verging on ghost towns. Boarded up shops, abandoned industrial sights and I swear I even saw a tumbleweed. We were a long way from the nearest Wal-Mart. 

For times, we were the only car on the road as far as the eye could see. The straight ribbon of road snaked through the dust for miles in either direction, and we had it all to ourselves. 

En route to Lubbock, Texas we had company for a while. The road was flanked on both sides by fields of wind turbines. These grand, imposing figures loomed on the horizon and crept towards the road. Hundreds of the things were spread across the land like alien invaders, but I suppose we were heading towards Roswell, so it might not be too much of a stretch of the imagination. 

Let's go Mavs!

...let's go Mavs!

And so goes the slightly drudgingly, obligatory chanting that accompanies the Dallas Mavericks basketball team as they take to the court.

Thanks to my brother, we got tickets to Dallas Mavs vs LA Lakers. My brother went through a basketball phase in his youth so he had a good knowledge of the game, and a historic allegiance to the Lakers, although we changed sides as it seemed rude not to support the home team. Yet the fans were mixed in their seating arrangements. No worries about rival fans causing a ruckus here. I'd be interested to know if it's the same in other sports.

It seems only fitting during my time in the USA that I would participate in the great sport of spectating. Yes Americans love sports, but I would dare say they love spectating even more. The whole experience of a national league sporting event is geared around entertainment. It's almost as if the actual sport isn't enough.

The crowd isn't paying enough attention to the humungous video screen? Hurry, pan the camera onto people until they make the silliest face they can.
Someone hasn't got a beverage in their hand? Quick, send a stop-me-and-buy-one man down their row!
A punter is drifting off during the time-out? Pick them out for a giant game of Simon Says pronto!

And to be fair, I'm glad I had this extra entertainment. Not being the biggest basketball fan, it's fair to say I struggled to follow all the rules. Yes, I whooped when a ball was basketed (correct yes?!) and threw my arms up in disgust when a boisterous young player got a bit physical in the defence, but my highlights were definitely the bits between the sport.

Situated just behind us were the Dallas drummers. A group of incredibly talented drummers twirling sticks and keeping the crowd pumped up to the max. For further enjoyment I'm sure my dad would agree the cheerleaders gave us lots to cheer about in their slick, crowd-pleasing routines.

But in a stab at equality Dallas Mavs also have a set of male cheerleaders. Named the Dallas ManiACCs (corporate name, obviously), this group of loud, brash, larger than life tough guys knocking out super-charged, tongue-in-cheek dance routine after routine made my evening. They are dedicated, push themselves to entertain and at one point dance-battled against the real cheerleaders who were left looking ridiculous in their sizeable wake. I have new sporting heroes.

I may have been slightly more enthusiastic than normal, whooping at the end of the game, but that was probably because I was still riding the sugar high of my first toxic-coloured slurpee. But I was somewhat dismayed that the rest of the crowd started leaving before the final whistle, and even the players trudged off after the show, sorry, match, without even a wave to the few supportive fans left.

To be honest, I have absolutely no recollection of who won, let alone the score. But I guess the game's not really the point of this performance is it?

Elvis was in the building

The King of Rock n Roll.
Elvis Aaron Presley.
It is practically impossible, not to mention downright rude, to visit Memphis, Tennessee without stopping by the old homestead of the great man himself. This is Graceland people, and it is another world.
To be fair, the whole city is geared around its most famous resident. I found the pool I would like for my future home in a local motel.

Driving up to the gates of the Graceland mansion, you feel a sense of expectation. You are treading the same ground as, arguably, the most famous musician on the planet. I couldn't wait to get inside, and it wasn't just because it was hammering down with freezing rain.

It's worth mentioning that although Graceland is labelled as a mansion, up close it's nowhere near as big as you are led to believe. But that only adds to the charm. It's easy to picture the place as a family home. Every room is set out lovingly and with purpose, despite the excess of everything. The pictures around show that the whole family loved this home.

And it's so fantastic to see the old photos of Elvis through the years. We see so many pictures of him in pop culture that it's easy to forget him as a real person. On a personal note, I really enjoyed seeing the younger photos and film of him displayed. What a beautiful star. Thank you Graceland.

Guided around the public areas by audio headphones, we saw so many iconic items and rooms. There was the jungle room, a room with so much decoration it made my mum's house look bare. There was dark, wood panelling and green shag pile carpet acting as a backdrop to the many ornaments. Tribal looking furniture, wooden ashtrays, animal prints and even a stone-effect waterfall at one end all combined to show the very essence of 70s decadence. I felt very at home there as it echoed back to my grandparents' home.

The senses were also overloaded by the pool room. A room where they must have had a job lot of fabric to get rid of. The gaudy, super-patterned fabric was folded like a fan to cover the walls and ceiling. Heaven only knows how it was ever cleaned.

My favourite room by far was the TV room. A yellow, black and white 60s theme decor gave Elvis the perfect setting to watch any of the several televisions on the wall or play any record he wanted from the beautiful collection of classic records on the jukebox. The mirrored ceiling reflected the colourful plastic festooning the room, huge sofa and adjoining bar area.

Kitsch cool at its finest.