During the night, a drunken flatmate of Jordan, my host in Denver, wakes me up several times. The next morning, I’m even more out of it than the night before. Without breakfast, I swing into the car. Jordan said: “The Rocky Mountains take an hour by car. It takes me 2.5 hours just to get to the entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park. The road through the park is 82 miles long and climbs to over 3600 metres.

Apparently all the trails end after a few hundred metres. No real hiking routes anywhere. Americans probably do everything by car. I join the queue and drive up to the highest peaks in 2 hours. (more…)

The next morning I set off early again. Another motorway heading south. Straight as a die again. Over 30 degrees. The landscape changes. From Nebraska onwards, it’s all corn and cattle. The radio landscape changes too: only country fiddle tunes. Flanked on the right by Jesus news, on the left by neo-apostolic God rock. Every quarter of an hour, neatly structured by the most bizarre adverts against abortion and drugs. The holy trinity of brain puree, hallelujah!

Nebraska really is a funny place. Super costs significantly less than normal. One mile too fast costs $100. I arrive at my new host Kim’s in Kearney. In the evening we go to a really fine steakhouse with an adjoining home brewery. (more…)

In the morning, I enjoy some more relaxed work in the designer chair. I set off for South Dakota around 10am. It’s hot. The Interstate goes straight south for almost 400 miles. I get tired after only an hour. In Germany I drink a cup of coffee and then can’t sleep for 8 hours. Here I drink half a litre of coffee and after half an hour I’m already tired again. The coffee is almost as strong as spring water – almost. Where the hell does the colour come from?

I take several coffee breaks – none of them work. Bored, I play around with the last unknown buttons in the car – and discover the cruise control. No! Worst case… From now on, my right foot is also superfluous. (more…)

Over the last few days, I’ve driven over this strange river again and again, unplanned. First it was medium, then smaller and smaller. I do some research and realise that Bemidji is just 30 miles from the source of the Mississippi. I set off early and arrive at Lake Itasca State Park before the crowds of tourists. I bathe in the middle of the Mississippi, two metres from both banks. The outflow from Lake Itasca is considered to be the source. Ugly, fat, neglected people are constantly pushing themselves in front of my lens. I’m on the verge of complaining loudly about the blatant juxtaposition of pure beauty and abysmal ugliness when I can finally fire off an undisturbed shot. (more…)

Today I crossed the whole of Minnesota. The nickname is right. Nothing but lakes and forest. You often don’t know where the lake begins and where the forest ends. The whole landscape reminds me a lot of Finland. Only much further. At some point there was ice here. And the water just stayed there. The roads are infinitely long and infinitely straight.

I’m travelling at my usual 70 miles when I suddenly notice something very ominous on the horizon: The road doesn’t just disappear into the sky. It seems to disappear sideways. The unfamiliar sight makes my hands clasped comfortably behind my neck start to sweat. What is that? (more…)

The next morning it’s raining cats and dogs. I drive to Green Bay, it clears up. Highways first. Dead animal on the side of the road, burst tyre, dead animal, at regular intervals of a mile. Then on to country roads. That’s what I borrowed the car for. I constantly have to brake for beavers, foxes, pheasants, deer. Hawks circle in thermal updrafts. Yellow signs warn of strange animals (see right) It’s hot and humid just before Canada.

I drive through some Indian reservations. Casinos, petrol stations, tobacco and alco shops. Everything is cheaper than outside the reservations. The revenge of the red man, at last. Everything is labelled with the tribe’s name: we are. (more…)

Carrie drives me to the airport at midday and I finally get my car. I’ve never been so happy to have a car. While Carrie gets lost on the way home, I manage to get there without a map. That makes me very brave. I make another meal, say goodbye and set off in the direction of Madison. After asking only 4 times, I find Lake Minona. This is where Otis Redding crashed his plane in December 1967. I listen to Sitting on the dock of the bay, flute along a bit and tease ducks with cherry pits. And realise that I need to buy an atlas.

Despite the atlas, I lose the way to Green Bay so often that I’m already thinking about just taking a road trip: no destination, just drive. At least then you don’t get annoyed about being wrong all the time. (more…)

The next morning, David picks up two more guests for his Hospitalilty Club hotel. Two Frenchmen who had just spent a year studying politics and IT in Toronto. We quickly go to Lincoln Park Zoo. Back home in the afternoon. I pack my stuff and carry 45kg around for the last time.

Some people are running in the transfer tunnel at the Loop to catch the approaching Blueline. I couldn’t have run with all this stuff. So I go. And get into the blueline at the last minute. If I’d missed it, I’d have been at the Greyhound 12 minutes later. And therefore 4 minutes late. I just manage to catch the bus. (more…)

I wake up in the morning with a killer head. Because the alarm clock is still set to Eastern time, it’s still an hour too early after 4 hours of sleep. Still good though. Otherwise I wouldn’t have made it to the start of www.gangstertour.com. Mafia stories, bus drivers in disguise, blanks, Dixie, swing, blues and Ennio Morricone in an old bus. Unfortunately, there’s not much to see on the tour through Chicago. Almost all the old houses from the mafia massacres of the twenties have been demolished. The narrators do their best to describe in bloody detail how the massacre on Valentine’s Day took place. But for 25$ I expected more. (more…)

I wake up in the afternoon with the best view ever. 24. A panoramic view of the Chicago skyline from the second floor. A thunderstorm is brewing. Squalls sweep through the urban canyons. Lightning strikes the Sears Tower every minute.

The dryers in the basement do not live up to their name. The lift is flooded. The water on the street is 50cm deep in places, cellars and underground car parks are full. Cast-iron manhole covers are rhythmically lifted by compressed air in front of water surges. Police, fire brigade, helicopters everywhere. All the traffic lights are out. In principle, I have nothing against America’s downfall. But does it have to happen when I’m there? (more…)

Or not. Motto of the day. First walk to the bus station in Niagara. After a kilometre, my trolley wheel decides it’s no longer available for this trip around the world. Trolley bursts open at the bottom. Luckily a taxi driver stops, otherwise I would have missed the bus.

I’m not annoyed about the one-hour wait in Buffalo. But I am annoyed that the ticket seller had announced a journey time of 10 hours. He didn’t say anything about the 8-hour stopover in Cleveland.

Another Frank rammed a police car in New York. banned from driving for 10 years. Now he’s travelling non-stop to Las Vegas for three days. (more…)

My last day in New York started with a subway ride at 7:30 a.m. The whole car was full, but not a single commuter said a word. I didn’t even listen to my MP3 player as usual. The purest ghost ship on screeching wheels. For the first time I understood what so many people said about New York: cold.

Arriving at the German Embassy, I run through the nastiest 5 ways to register my car with a nice employee. Moving to New Jersey. Shared ownership. Third-party insurance through an American. (more…)

I’ve been preparing for months. I read hundreds of websites and cleared every conceivable obstacle out of the way. And failed, landed flat on my face. What’s so difficult about buying a car in New York, USA?

Many things. Firstly: buying a car in New York is pretty much the most expensive in the USA. No problem, still cheaper than driving around the USA for 9 weeks in a hire car (at least 2800$, one-way to Los Angeles). Car is sold in LA, at a big loss, but still cheaper than renting. (more…)

I was cycling through New York today. First Brooklyn. Strange sounds coming from a Baptist church. I have to see it. Inside. Sunday service. I’m greeted warmly by three consecutive doormen. I’m the only white person in a church full of black people. A strange feeling. The priest muses about lost images of fathers and finding them again on Father’s Day. Relatively quietly at first, slowly. Then faster and faster. Occasionally a short clap from the gallery.

He gets louder and louder. More rhythmic. More clapping. He inserts a Yeah after every sentence. His sermon becomes a rap. The projectors paint it huge on the wall. Some people stand up. (more…)

Been to the garage again x times all day. Vehicle registration document comes and doesn’t come, I keep getting transferred again. I feel like I’m being taken for a ride. And now I urgently need the car. I’m looking for alternatives again, even thinking about renting a car for $2800. Can’t do anything. So: back into the city on the metro.

In a small deli near the Guggenheim Museum I treat myself to a nice beer – in a brown paper bag. With the owner’s permission in the far corner of the shop, but still illegal. Afterwards, I head for the spiral in the Guggenheim Museum, well fuelled. Unfortunately, it’s completely ruined at the moment, completely wrapped up on the outside for general refurbishment. (more…)

I’m running out of time. Need a car. Sweaty down to the Latino garage at 7am after a nearly all-nighter. Dodge Neon, 3000$. Way too much, but never mind, no more time. Boss is coming at 10, I have to find the money by then. And my credit card doesn’t work. So: cash in traveller’s cheques.

Research on the Internet the night before revealed that Apple Savings Bank cashes out free of charge. So into Manhattan, first bank. Yes. Works. But only $200. I pick up a card with all 16 Apple Savings Banks in Manhattan at the first branch. I still need $2000, so I have to rally over 10 banks. Off to Subway, without a card I only know my way around half as well. (more…)

Yesterday it was no problem at all to change money near 5th Avenue. Today I was far away, looking for a car on Northern Boulevard in Long Island. The experience was so awesome that it will be the only one I describe today.

Me: Hi, can I change money here?

Banker: How, money?

Me: Yes, just euros in US dollars. I show the euros.

Banker: Gets big eyes, looks at me like an alien. Oh, so you mean exchanging money, changing practically? (more…)

Simon said there were car dealers up by Yankee Stadium in the Bronx. Unfortunately, he’s already become an American. Of course there wasn’t a single one. So we walked, walked, walked. Over a bridge from the Bronx to Harlem. Nothing special. Oh yes…the first chess player I see. Unfortunately drunk off his arse. Markus Gravey Park in the north of Manhattan. Wild squirels and dealers everywhere, abandoned swimming pools in between. A half-collapsed bell tower on a small hill. (more…)

Americans always know their stuff. Especially when it comes to something as complex as roads or facilities. After doing some research yesterday with Simon’s help about buying a car, I went on tour this morning. Looking for car dealers. The first 5 people I ask, “Where’s a used car dealer here?” answer: nowhere. The garage round the corner doesn’t have anything on offer at the moment, my maps don’t go far enough to drive straight to private individuals offering cars.

So I ask further, more specifically: “Are there any used car dealers in this direction?” After a further 5 answers and 10 miles of fruitless travelling, I know: the Americans know. (more…)

Today I toured Upper Manhattan. Back to Union Square, then continued on foot northwards.

Herald Square. Cheeky sparrows, writing bums and bored cops. All crossing the road on red. Right in front of the cops. Nobody says anything. Stop, but only if you’re Latino. Then it costs $20. It’s free for white people.

Seeingthe flat iron building live after 6 years of studying architecture is really something. And despite all the lectures, I don’t trust its wind resistance. It’s bound to blow over. (more…)

Last night was hot. At 9.00 p.m., after 36 hours, we finally get to sleep again. Simon stops after a scooter meeting in the middle of a motorway with no emergency lane on a bridge in the rain at 2.00am. Luckily he survived. I cough my way through the night.

Anyone who claims that the Americans aren’t doing anything about global warming is a liar. Some examples? For example, the shower here only has hot/cold, not a little/much. If you take a cold shower, you make the earth cold faster. Or: you walk along Broadway, close to a house wall. Cold drops are constantly coming from the external air conditioning units further up. (more…)

I learnt something new today. It’s not just the skunk that can feel safe about its stench. Humans can now do the same. London Heathrow Airport: all passengers even have to take off their shoes for screening. It stinks, really bad. But we can feel wonderfully safe.

I’m flying over the Atlantic in a 747 for the first time, and I think it might be a good way to get in the mood for the USA to be bombarded with multimedia. But 40 video-on-demand channels seem to overtax my multitasking skills. (more…)