Aside from our aforementioned day of Philly silliness, the time between DC and NY is an oasis of calm set in the presently quiet town of Cape May. Apart from being the hometown of Steve, our generous and gracious host, it is also one of America's oldest and favourite seaside resorts - the kind of place where couples with names like Tad and Muffy come sailing down in their yacht with their Ralph Lauren polo shirts and sweaters tied round their necks. Thankfully, we are here as Spring is still struggling to make its presence known so the town is devoid of such creatures who only turn up when the climes are warmer.
Perhaps the most striking thing about Cape May is its mercurial nature which is largely dependent on the weather. On a cold, grey and rainy day such as when we arrived, this town assumes a silent deathly pallor somewhat akin to Cabot Cove right after Jessica Fletcher stumbles upon another fresh cadaver. However, on a good day, the town turns up sprightly for its age with a sprinkling of youthful charm - a bit like Amity Island, minus the bit that bites.
Up until now, we've really only known Steve as the party animal/surfer dude mate Gem's folks met in Bali. But here we find him grappling with the inevitable return to real life as well as a monstrous case of jet lag. Therefore we're all the more grateful that he is willing and able to deal with a couple of tourists in the sort of holiday mode from which he's just recovering - especially so when he welcomes us into his abode with the first home-cooked meal we've had in a month.
Earlier that day, we are taken on a quick tour around the county as Steve points out spots both favourite and historic. As aficionados of the absurd, we especially love the wreck of the concrete ship, (yes, you heard right) the SS Atlantus.
In the days following Philly, Steve is back at work at the SOMA art gallery preparing for the opening of their newest exhibition. Meanwhile, Gem and I casually explore the town admiring the chocolate-box pretty houses...
the blissfully barren beach...
According to Steve, come summer, all this sand will be occupied by sunbathers, swimmers and surfers. Right now, there's little evidence of it...
And of course, if you've been following us this far, what else would you expect?
Not that we're totally rudderless, as in the time that he does have, Steve takes us on a couple more excursions around the nearby surroundings including the city of Wildwood, (warning: link produces unnecessarily jovial noise) a sort of doo-wop resort where fake palm trees and beachballs are native to the region.
Apparently, this was also where "Rock Around The Clock" was first performed thereby earning the place the title of 'The birthplace of Rock & Roll made safe for white middle-class America".
Along the way, Steve also takes us to the best feeds in this town. This includes yet another variation of the massive American heart-stopping sandwhich here known as a hoagie. We love it when TV finally makes sense.
All too soon, our time here comes to an end and it's back to the hurly-burly whirlwind that has been our tour of this big country. Before we leave, we express our profound gratitude to Steve for the kindness he's shown us in the only way cheap bastard tourists like us can - in song.
Then, it's off to the city so great they named it twice.
But not before Steve asks for his truck back. He's not that generous.
Next: Start spreading the news....
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