November 7

And on to San Antonio, Texas. We took the train for a change. It was an impressive, shiny train but unfortunately it was the slowest vehicle I've ever crossed a country in. A journey that takes between eight and nine hours by car took more than 15 hours on this train. The driver was obviously guilt-stricken at quite how long his train took to go anywhere as he decided to treat his passengers to a running commentary, designed to educate us in the ways of rural America, throughout the day. It wasn't a great commentary. At one point told us that:

"After the rice has been harvested [long pause] the farmers harvest the rice".

We arrived in San Antonio at 3am and it's deserted. Lucky for us the cheap motel we've booked is right around the corner. Right? I mean, they wouldn't flagrantly lie to us and locate their motel on the map at least 15 blocks from its actual location, leaving us no option but to trek through deserted neighborhoods in the dead of night, laden with enough money cameras and credit cards to make a Japanese coach tour blush? Oh wait, they would? How lucky for us! And look, dangling from those telephone lines, aren't those sneakers - very likely indicating this is where someone was recently shot? Why yes. And there's another pair! What an authentic experience we're having.

An hour later we arrived at the motel - which was so far north of its advertised location we may have actually crossed into Oklahoma. Ill, with no voice and not happy with the suspiciously crusty blanket on my bed I told myself that tomorrow would be better. San Antonio is a fun place. Right?