Friday 15th May, 2009 – Castles in Ireland, Castles in Spain, and Windmills in my Head

Mention of Cervantes has highlighted the connection between my Glasgows and Don Quixote's windmills, etc.  I always thought, from the very beginning, that this was a 'quixotic' adventure: it was just finding windmills to tilt at, for want of anything else to do. 

But there's rather more to it than that: I've always wanted to visit 'small town' America.  The Glasgows are, in some sense, just a convenient set of points to join up which allows me to do that.  It will, I hope, let me meet Americans who are not on-the-make in the big city, who know who they are, and where they belong.

I met a man in Boston who was there to watch his daughter run the marathon.  They came from rural Illinois.  He owned a construction business.  Well, actually, he drove an earth-mover, and loved every minute of it, and his brother did the business.  But he asserted, quite forcefully, that there was no recession in rural America.  "We only got real jobs", he said (or something like that), "we don't do the kind of jobs that come and go".  I find this very hard to believe (the bit about the recession, not the bit about the jobs).  My experience tells me the city slickers will defend themselves with every trick they can muster, and dumping on the rural poor is an early candidate.

But, of course, the point is, I'm going to go and have a look.  The America I'm about to see is not the America we get to read about, but it is where most Americans live.  It's bound to be quite different.  Will I notice the difference?

 

Rocinante is saddled, her makeshift tackle is ready.  The rusty armour has been polished.  The fair Dulcinea constantly reminds me of the next step on the way.  It is time to mount up and go.  I wonder what happened to Sancho?