Stephen Fry in America

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Stephen Fry in America Page 31

by Stephen Fry


  ‘You’re out of condition, dude,’ he says. ‘Shouldn’t be out of breath after such a short hike.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ I puff, ‘I was gasping at the beauty of it all.’ Certainly the view of the coastline has convinced me that Na Pali is even more perfect than the north beaches of Oahu.

  Next Titus takes me out, with his two young daughters, on an outrigger canoe. The daughters are there, it becomes obvious, to rescue and subdue me if I fall out.

  ‘You have to count strokes,’ says Titus. ‘Fourteen on the left side of the boat, then “hup!” and fourteen on the right…Oh yes, you’re looking very native there. But how about you stop humming the Hawaii Five-O theme tune?’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t know I was.’

  In the evening there is the treat of watching local children doing authentic hula dancing while sipping local beer and eating whole roast pig.

  The sun sets on the beach and the children, with serious eyes and nimble feet, perform the dances of their ancestors. A boy blows on a huge conch. And the sun finally drops below the horizon. A good day.

  ‘My ancestors,’ says Titus serving out a second helping of pulled pork, ‘used to eat your ancestors when we got the chance. You taste like pork, apparently. “Long pig”, that is what we used to call the white man.’

  Hula Girls, Kauai.

  The Kalalau Trail: Titus on ukulele.

  Big Island

  Today I drop in on the largest of Hawaii’s islands, officially called Hawai’i (note the apostrophe), which is so confusing that everyone calls it Big Island.

  Hilo, where we land (the seas are too rough and the distances too great to island-hop any other way but by air) has the most attractive airport I have ever seen, all flower troughs and tropical hardwoods. I spring into an open-topped rented Jeep and head for Mount Mauna Kea, whose dormant cone I can clearly see in the distance. You could argue that Mauna Kea is the tallest mountain in the world. From its base on the sea floor to the summit is 33,000 feet. Most people, however, even Hawaiians, would concede that since Everest’s 29,029 feet are all above sea level it has the right to its status as highest peak. Mauna Kea is ‘only’ 13,800 feet high by that reckoning–an ‘only’ that becomes a sick joke as you drive further and further up the mountain’s steep and pumice-strewn road and the air gets thinner and thinner.

  We are visiting the Keck Observatory, one of more than a dozen (including a British one) perched on the summit. Our host is the astronomer Alex Filippenko of the University of California at Berkley. Professor Filippenko is a natural communicator, the enthusiasm and passion he has for the stars and supernovae in particular, is contagious.

  ‘You know the first generation of stars after the Big Bang consisted only of hydrogen and helium,’ he says, ‘but did you realise that the heavy elements of which you are made, the carbon in your cells, the calcium in your bones, the oxygen that you breath, the iron in your red blood cells…all of these elements were cooked up in the nuclear furnaces deep inside stars and then blown out into the cosmos by these colossal explosions? So you are, as Carl Sagan used to say, made of star stuff. The study of the supernova teaches us the universe is speeding up, instead of slowing down. How cool is that!’

  On Mauna Kea with Alex Filippenko. The Keck Observatory is in the background.

  ‘And what is so special about the Keck?’

  ‘Clear images that come from a place so high above the water vapour and impurities of the atmosphere are of great scientific value.’

  Despite Alex’s eminence in his field, therefore, even he and his famous university cannot be guaranteed more than five or six nights a year at this facility. Recent advances, not in astrophysics but in IT, mean that he can at least do the basic tweaking of the telescope during the day and be down at a lower altitude by night, from where he can watch the images come in remotely. Even a brain like his cannot but be somewhat compromised by the thin air two and half miles above sea level.

  He takes me through to the dome itself and I gawp, gasp and gurgle as much in oxygen-starved distress as in genuine appreciation at the scale and splendour of the apparatus. Much as I love talking to eminent scientists, and he is one of the most likeable and accessible I have ever met, the conditions are giving me a sick headache and I am pleased to drive down the mountain and feel the oxygen enrich my lungs with every thousand feet we descend.

  Lava Fields

  A helicopter ride now, and a helicopter ride like no other. We are to overfly the lava fields of Kilauea.

  We take off from Hilo and are soon over hardened fields, like frozen toffee in a pan. Ahead I can see smoke. One side of our helicopter is open, to let the cameraman shoot freely. Martin, the pilot, tells us that the ‘smoke’ is actually sulphur dioxide.

  ‘Not too poisonous, but might make you choke.’

  Kilauea has been active since 1983, but recently a few new fumeroles or vents have opened up. We flew over a ‘skylight’, a hole in the field, glowing red like a door to the underworld. I could feel the heat up in the helicopter.

  There was no room on board for Vanda, our beloved photographer, so you will have to make do with the pictures from my iPhone. Not the highest quality, but they give some idea of the drama that takes place when lava meets ocean.

  Here the ‘smoke’ is caused by huge clouds of hydrochloric acid, sent up into the air every time the waves break on the lava which, as perhaps you can tell in my adequate photograph, gushes out in bright red fingers.

  ‘Very poisonous. The hydrochloric acid will burn your skin real bad.’ Martin manoeuvres around the shoreline with great care.

  Aside from the hiss of hydrochloric acid sent up when the breakers meet the lava, something else happens. The molten lava is frozen into rock. Over the past six weeks alone, Martin tells me, twenty acres of land have been formed by this action of water on lava.

  Somehow Martin lands the helicopter and I stand on a fragment of cooling land to present my final piece of the series.

  Fingers of lava meet the sea.

  On the lava fields, bidding farewell to an America that is making new pieces of itself behind me.

  This is the southernmost part of America and behind me new bits of America are being made. It seems the right moment to say goodbye. Fifty states. Fifty cultures, societies, accents, cuisines, landscapes and more. I shall never be able to think of America in quite the same way again. I cannot claim to have done more than scratch the surface of this enormous land, but the scope of my adventures and the variety of people I have met have convinced me that it is almost as meaningless to call someone American without specifying their state as it is to call them European without specifying their country. The great metropolitan areas stand on their own as unique entities, but journeying through the rest of the United States I found that statehood mattered and that locality and terroir, as the French would say, seared its brand into everything and everyone.

  Sunset, Waikiki Beach.

  I loved America before this trip and I love it now more than ever. The obvious characteristics that we celebrate and bemoan–the brashness, the vulgarity, the worship of money, the gun obsession, the distressing religiosity, the ignorance of the rest of the world, the deafness to linguistic nuance, the lack of banter, the whining self-regard, the blame culture, the junk food and the strip malls–yes, these are all to be found, but alongside we encounter the hope, the self-belief, the optimism, the warmth, consideration, kindness, sharpness of wits, will power, pride, wry self-awareness, independence, openness, generosity and charm. There is nothing you and I can observe about America that most Americans haven’t observed for themselves. I met very few fools on my travels, save perhaps the British I encountered who thought themselves naturally superior: I still shiver with embarrassment at the memory of their imbecile arrogance. America is not perfect, and I do not love Britain any less for loving America more. As all travellers know, the experience of a foreign country teaches about your own.

  AMERICAN ENGLISH

  A lit
tle quiz to mark the end of the book. Most people are aware that American words can be different. Here are some a little less known than ‘elevator’ and ‘sidewalk’. Most, but not all, have a simple one-word British-English equivalent.

  Amortize

  Bangs *

  Barrette

  Berm

  Bimini

  Binky

  Blacktop

  Booger

  Boondocks, boonies

  Boondoggle

  Braids

  Brodie knob

  Broil

  Bronx cheer

  Bullhorn

  Bureau*

  Burlap

  Bus (v)*

  Caboose

  Canola oil

  Casket

  Chinch

  Cilantro

  Cobbler*

  Conniption

  Cotton candy

  Crosswalk

  Decal

  Docent

  Druthers

  Eggplant

  Faucet

  Flatware

  Fungible

  Garnish*

  Glom

  Granola

  Gurney

  Jackhammer

  Jimmies

  Jury-rig

  Keister

  Kludge/kluge

  Mononucleosis

  Muffler*

  Mugwump

  Notions

  Parcheesi

  Pavement

  Polliwog/pollywog

  Popsicle

  Rutabaga

  Saltine

  Scallion

  Shill

  Shim

  Slingshot

  Spackle

  Sprinkles*

  Stogie/stogy

  Stroller

  Suds*

  Thumb tack

  Tic-tac-toe

  Ukase

  Underdrapes

  Wet willie

  Wringer

  Answers 1. Pay off (a debt) in instalments 2. Fringe 3. Hair slide 4. Verge or roadside strip of grass 5. Canvas canopy for a boat, golf cart, etc. 6. Children’s dummy or pacifier 7. Tarmac on the road 8. Bogey or hardened snot 9. The wilds, the back of beyond 10. A project which is a waste of time and money, sometimes for corrupt reasons 11. Plaits 12. That swivelling knob attached to a steering wheel to make one-handed turns easier 13. Grill 14. To blow a raspberry is to give a Bronx cheer 15. Megaphone or loud-hailer 16. Chest of drawers 17. Sacking, hessian 18. To clean tables, as in bus-boy 19. The extra car at the back of a train 20. Rapeseed oil 21. Coffin 22. Bed bug 23. Coriander 24. Crumble (as in apple crumble) 25. A fit of rage or hysterics 26. Candy floss 27. Pedestrian (zebra, pelican) crossing 28. A transfer applied to cars, planes, etc. 29. A (usually voluntary) museum guide 30. Preference, as in ‘If I had my druthers…’ 31. Aubergine 32. Tap 33. Cutlery 34. Interchangeable 35. To seize money in settlement of a debt or claim 36. To steal. Or to stick (to glom onto someone) 37. Muesli 38. Trolley, especially hospital stretcher on wheels 39. Pneumatic drill 40. Hundreds and thousands, see Sprinkles 41. To lash together temporarily, also jerry-rig. 42. Arse. Rhymes with ‘Easter’ 43. Badly put together machinery 44. Glandular fever 45. Silencer (on car) 46. One who remains aloof from party politics; also, a big cheese 47. Haberdashery, buttons, pins and hooks, etc. 48. The game of Ludo 49. The hard surface of the road 50. Tadpole 51. Ice lolly or lollipop 52. Swede (vegetable) 53. Cracker-style biscuit (popular with soup) 54. Spring onion 55. The planted accomplice of a salesman or gambler who pretends to bet or buy in order to entice others 56. A thin strip of metal to help parts fit: i.e. a washer, wedge or other filler 57. Catapult 58. Polyfilla-type compound to fill cracks and smooth surfaces 59. See Jimmies 60. A small cigar 61. A pushchair 62. Beer 63. Drawing pin 64. The game of noughts and crosses 65. An edict 66. Net curtains 67. The child’s trick of pushing a spit-moistened finger into someone’s ear 68. Mangle

  STATE CAPITALS OF AMERICA

  And another. Fill in the blanks…

  Alabama AL

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  Alaska AK

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  Arizona AZ

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  Arkansas AR

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  California CA

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  Colorado CO

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  Connecticut CT

  ———————————

  Delaware DE

  ———————————

  Florida FL

  ———————————

  Georgia GA

  ———————————

  Hawaii HI

  ———————————

  Idaho ID

  ———————————

  Illinois IL

  ———————————

  Indiana IN

  ———————————

  Iowa IA

  ———————————

  Kansas KS

  ———————————

  Kentucky KY

  ———————————

  Louisiana LA

  ———————————

  Maine ME

  ———————————

  Maryland MD

  ———————————

  Massachusetts MA

  ———————————

  Michigan MI

  ———————————

  Minnesota MN

  ———————————

  Mississippi MS

  ———————————

  Missouri MO

  ———————————

  Montana MT

  ———————————

  Nebraska NE

  ———————————

  Nevada NV

  ———————————

  New Hampshire NH

  ———————————

  New Jersey NJ

  ———————————

  New Mexico NM

  ———————————

  New York NY

  ———————————

  North Carolina NC

  ———————————

  North Dakota ND

  ———————————

  Ohio OH

  ———————————

  Oklahoma OK

  ———————————

  Oregon OR

  ———————————

  Pennsylvania PA

  ———————————

  Rhode Island RI

  ———————————

  South Carolina SC

  ———————————

  South Dakota SD

  ———————————

  Tennessee TN

  ———————————

  Texas TX

  ———————————

  Utah UT

  ———————————

  Vermont VT

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  Virginia VA

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  Washington WA

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  West Virginia WV

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  Wisconsin WI

  ———————————

  Wyoming WY

  ———————————

  Answers AL Montgomery AK Juneau AZ Phoenix AR Little Rock CA Sacramento CO Denver CT Hartford DE Dover FL Tallahassee GA Atlanta HI Honolulu ID Boise IL Springfield IN Indianapolis IA Des Moines KS Topeka KY Frankfort LA Baton Rouge ME Augusta MD Annapolis MA Boston MI Lansing MN Saint Paul MS Jackson M
O Jefferson City MT Helena NE Lincoln NV Carson City NH Concord NJ Trenton NM Santa Fe NY Albany NC Raleigh ND Bismarck OH Columbus OK Oklahoma City OR Salem PA Harrisburg RI Providence SC Columbia SD Pierre TN Nashville TX Austin UT Salt Lake City VT Montpelier VA Richmond WA Olympia WV Charleston WI Madison WY Cheyenne

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  You will notice that for the most part I write in the preceding pages in the first person singular, as if I were travelling around America on my own. In fact I was in the company of film crews, a driver and the entirely adorable Vanda Vucicevic, whose glorious photographs accompany the text of this book. Vanda was the only person who was with me for every step of the way, by my side for every state and every mile of the journey. For technical, logistical film-making reasons, we had two alternating crews. Crew A was with us for Leg 1–Maine to Maryland, Leg 3–Louisiana to Minnesota and Leg 5–New Mexico to Hawaii. Crew B shot Leg 2–Virginia to Florida and Leg 4–Montana to Texas.

  My thanks for their unfailing cheerfulness, professionalism and boundless patience go to Crew A: Director and Series Producer J.P. Davidson, Assistant Producers Lucy Wallace and Annie Macnee, Cameraman Simon ffrench and Sound Recordist Tim Hodge and to Crew B: Director Michael Waldman, Assistant Producer Amanda Sealy, Cameraman Paul Otter and Sound Recordist Adam Toy.

  Crew A at Davis Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, Arizona. Left to right: Vanda Vucicevic, SF, Lucy Wallace, J.P. Davidson, Simon ffrench, Tim Hodge.

  Driving the crew vehicle, tending to the taxi’s limey eccentricities and making the whole epic possible was the loyal, indefatigable and tireless Transport Captain, Camera Grip and Driver Frank Davis, a New Yorker but now an honorary Londoner.

  Crew B filming at Thunderhead Mountain in South Dakota. Left to right: Frank Davis, Amanda Sealy, Vanda, Paul Otter, SF, Michael Waldman, Adam Toy.

  André Singer of West Park Pictures was behind the project from the first and the benefit of his unexampled experience and wisdom was crucial to the preparation and planning of the whole undertaking. Janina Stamps’s calm and efficient presence in the London office and at the end of a phone day and night extricated us from many a near-disaster with hotel rooms and broken equipment.

 

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