OUT- OF -TOWNERS IN JACKSON, USA
DURING A SHOESTRING CROSSING of the Southern USA, a friend and I met an unassuming gent in the smoking area of a bar in Jackson, Mississippi. He was partly bemused, partly impressed by our low-budget odyssey (during most of which we slept in our car), but more interested that our next stop was New Orleans, his hometown. He talked passionately about the city until his cigarette burnt away, finishing his soliloquy by recommending his favourite hotel overlooking the city’s main strip, Bourbon Street (pictured left). We told him it looked lovely, but we could never afford it. ‘You know what guys,’ he said, ‘this one is on me.’ It was a bizarre, remarkable act, typical of the countless genial locals we met on that trip.