When traveling on a shoestring budget – like we did during research last fall – you generally aim for the cheapest accommodations you can get. In our case, we are talking about those cheap and seemingly endless motel chains that cover all of the United States. In fact, our budget for the whole trip was so small, we even had to go with the cheapest of the cheap. No exceptions.

Our first stay was in Newark, NJ, close to the airport. Our plane came in late at night, and we couldn’t get our rental car before the next morning. The hotel we had booked offered a free shuttle service from and to the airport. And so we were waiting with many others at the shuttle area to get picked up. Shuttle busses were constantly coming and going: Imagine brand new vans from Mariott and Hilton, from Best Western and Holiday Inn, painted in the respective colors of their hotels, dropping of travelers and picking up new ones. Drivers helped carrying luggage, loading and unloading. We kept waiting. And slowly began doubting if there was ever going to arrive a shuttle service for us, too.
Well, no reason for a doubt. Just a little more waiting, and an old Dodge van turned into the shuttle area. The Dodge’s color would have been grey, if it wasn’t for all the rust. This van was so dented you could only guess that it took part in Monster Truck Shows in its free time. Not as Monster, apparently. In the windshield was a piece of paper that read Howard Johnson Hotel. That’s our ride! I don’t have to mention that the driver was just a driver, no porter. And as if we needed another confirmation we kept looking for other travelers that needed a shuttle to Howard Johnson Hotel. But we were the only ones. After all, the hotel itself was absolutely sufficient. Our room was right in the middle of the airport approach path and next to the Interstate that went into Manhattan, but we were far too tired to even think about it.
Continue reading ‘On the road: A word about accomodations’
Wenn man - wie wir auf unserer Recherche vergangenen Herbst - mit schmalem Budget reist, strebt man in der Regel nach den günstigsten Übernachtungsmöglichkeiten. In unserem Fall hieß das: Die zahlreichen billigen Motel-Ketten, die sich durchs ganze Land ziehen. Unser Reisebudget war allerdings so schmal, dass wir selbst unter den Billigketten nicht frei wählen ...
We’re lost. Somewhere between Santa Fe and… well, practically nothing (apart from the border of Utah maybe). We took one wrong turn and rolled on and on for about an hour and a half before we even knew we were no longer on our route. There’s shrubbery everywhere. As far as the eye can see. At least as far as the snow-covered mountains we can make out on the horizon. Shrubbery anyway. There’s no better way to express it. For half an eternity we feel we’re driving along shrubbery. There’s not much forest in the Carson National Forest, as far as we can tell.
We end up in El Rito. Long before we see the first buildings we can see the single white letter “E” painted on a mountain side in the distance. At first glance El Rito has not much to offer than a long winding main street with traditional adobe buildings lined up to the right and left. We make a stop at El Llano Bar. There are two vintage gas pumps in front of it that are – let’s say – in an advanced state of decay. The sign above the door is a little too big and the rivets that keep it in place are amazingly irregularly placed on the wall. It is crooked. At first glance one might take the rivets for bullet holes. They are not. Just rivets.
Continue reading ‘The Green Chile Revelation’
Wir haben uns verfahren. Irgendwo zwischen Santa Fe und… ja, praktisch Nichts, wenn man mal von der Grenze zu Utah absieht. Einmal falsch abgebogen, rollen wir seelenruhig eineinhalb Stunden weiter, bevor wir überhaupt merken, dass wir gar nicht mehr auf unserer Route sind. Rechts und links Gestrüpp. So weit das Auge reicht. Zumindest bis ...
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