So far on this trip my feet have been leading me to special places whenever I've gone running. In New Port, the heat wave had finally broken somewhat, so early this morning, after a luke warm cup of coffee brewed on my new French Press (duh Keith I think you need something to boil water with), I set off down the road, a road that promised much but soon looked like it would disappoint as it began to look increasingly like downtown Birmingham (England), a drab town if ever there was one. Fortunately, the navy came to the rescue, as the road led ultimately to the naval base. Not that there was much to see. On the way back, I noticed car after car driving to the base, each containing a neatly pressed navy boy or girl. I'm guessing they were going for a day at the office, on base, and have to be there by 7.00 a.m. - yikes!

I reclined on the sofa in my hotel room for a while, snd then the wildest idea started to dawn. Frankly, I'm enjoying this trip even more than I expected to. I've traveled alone by myself before but always found it a bit lonely. This time, I'm much better prepared - I have plenty to keep me busy, and with a cell phone and the internet I have enough connection with humanity to keep me from feeling isolated. But more than that. I guess I've grown up since the last time I did something like this, probably six years ago, when I went to Miami by myself. I've grown more reliant on my own resources, and more able to find enjoyment in my own company. I no longer feel the need to share every experience with someone by my side in order to fully enjoy it, although I'll admit the opportunity to express my feelings about things in this journal is invaluable.

My enjoyment led me to begin to think of the possibility of doing this again - and an even wilder idea - of doing it full-time. It's crazy, I know, and I'll probably never do it - but wouldn't it be great to traipse around the world like this, filing a daily foto-journal about my experiences, and support the whole endeavor via subscription? After all, people pay for travel magazines.

It seemed to take me ever to get things done and clear out of my hotel (which I heartily recommend if you're looking for budget accomodation in Newport - the Newport Gateway Hotel), but finally, by 11.30, I parked at Bishop's 4th Street Diner, an authentic blue-collar institution catering mostly to navy types and older, beefy refridgerator repairmen in t-shirts. How do I get a healthy meal in a greasy spoon I don't hear you ask - well I order a chicken caesar and tell them to hold the croutons and use half the dressing. Then scrambled eggs and unbuttered bread on the side. Hmmm the chicken was fine!

After lunch I returned to the naval base, this time in my car, and spent a very happy hour and a half in the Naval War College Museum, looking at their ship-models, paintings, and well-written notes on the history of aircraft carriers and torpedoes. One thing I did find a trifle strange - a monument which read "To the memory of the officers and men of the United States Navy and Marine Corps who gave their lives in the service of their country. Well Done."....Gee thanks, I hear thousands of bereaved family members saying.

The Naval War College, and the Newport Bridge

The middle-aged German women working in the store (kind of ironic, huh?) also gave me directions to the piers where the Saratoga, Forrestal and Iowa are moth-balled. When I got there, I was almost alone, before the enormous, menacing bows of the two retired carriers pointing head-on at the dockside. Only a group of what I took to be four retired navy buddies stood in their J.C.Penney polo-shirts and bermuda shorts exchanging old stories.

Mothballed Aircraft Carrier

Newport is a lovely city. This was especially apparent to me today, when, by the afternoon it was brilliantly sunny and dry, although still very hot. The city is an unusual mix of older, urban buildings in narrow streets, the sparkling blue ocean life that surrounds, the enormous gilded mansions and the party atmosphere that permeates most big seaside resorts. Another thing - there seem to be tremendous quantities of gorgeous young men who drive around shirtless!

In the mid-afternoon I was stalking through the shadows on Spring and Thames (the locals pronounce it "Theaymes"!) streets for stores likely to sell nautical antiques. I didn't really find any although I did buy a large 1950s paperweight bearing the model of a Hungarian bus! I fell for this at a store called The Drawing Room of Newport, run by John Gacher and Frederico Santi. I felt fairly sure that the guy was gay.

I'd earlier decided to head to Boston today, one day early, and had to get there in time to check-in by 9.00 p.m. That just left me time to get a tour of one of the most famous mansions, the Marble House. I was completely amazed, and to be honest a little sickened, at such ostentatious wealth. It staggers my mind that William Vanderbilt could accumulate so much money to build an enormous house out of gold and marble modeled after Versailles, and give it to his wife on her birthday, who divorced him three years later. It cost $11 million to build in 1892 but was sold to a meat-packer in 1932 for $200,000! The best part of the tour for me was meeting one of the tour guides, a Scottish lady with a strong Glasgow accent. She turned out to have lived part of her life in my home town of South Shields, in North East England, and to have been close friends with someone named John Bell - the same name as that of both my boyhood friend and also jrb from the chatroom!

The Marble House

Marble House Gardens

Japanese Tea-House

By five, I was on the road again, headed for Boston via route 24. I dined unsalubriously (not a word, I know!) on beef and broccoli in the parking lot of an enormous shopping mall I found quite by accident when I took a random exit in search of food and coffee.

Despite the familiarly disgusting traffic snarls driving into Boston, it felt wonderful to be arriving in one of my favorite cities for a four-night stay - a chance to settle down, actually unpack my suitcases for once, and enjoy civilization. I've loved visiting the small towns and villages, but my heart belongs to big cities, where I can walk half a block to buy the New York Times and a good, strong coffee.

The hotel turned out to be perfectly located in my favorite neighborhood - a kind of crossroads of the gay, student and Esplanade lifestyles (the Esplanade is the long, narrow park running alongside the Charles river). And the rooms were large, and well-furnished with solid Edwardian furniture. I felt immediately at home!