Selma to Birmingham
First job of the morning was to get some cash -- from a drive through ATM. Unfortunately the drive through wasn't working, so we went two buildings down the road where in order to use the ATM I had to get out of the car and use my legs like some kind of pauper. I went alone to save Debbie the indignity.
With that ordeal over, we went to Mr Waffle for breakfast, and enjoyed it.
We owed Selma some sightseeing, so we went to its Old Live Oak Cemetary, because Lonely Planet advised it. Apparently 80 "live oaks" and 80 magnolias were planted in 1870. I really don't know why you would plant a dead oak. What makes the cemetary so atmospheric is the spanish moss hanging from every tree.
That and the statues.
... and the actively maintained Confederate monuments.
Not forgetting the freemasons...
Having seen enough graves for one day, we set off for Birmingham, Alabama. As we drove it occurred to me we were in horseshoes country. In Guatemala the house we stayed in had horseshoe pits in the garden, and we played quite a lot, so we decided we were in the market for a set of regulation weight shoes.
We kept an eye out for a sporting goods shop, and the first one we found had horseshoe sets for $5. We bought one. It's awfully heavy. We may have to check it in as a luggage item on its own.
Taco Bell invited us in for lunch. We missed the turning, and parked next to a closed down diner. We saw their mistake straight away. They had forgotten to repeat the last letter of "omelet", and to add an "e" at the end. Not only that, but they'd repeated the last letter of "shop" and added an "e" there instead.
The Taco Bell assistant said she loved our accents, and I told her I loved hers (which I did: Southern without being unintelligible). We ate cod-Mexican then got on our way. We had intended to visit Sloss Furnaces National Landmark, to be educated on Birmingham's industrial past, but as we approached, so did 4pm -- its closing time.
Instead, we drove on and stumbled on the Motel Birmingham.
Birmingham is very much like its British namesake.
- There is greyhound racing
- Route 1 North is a bit like Hockley, and where it meets the Interstate, it's reminiscent of Spaghetti Junction
- It's crammed full of decaying evidence of historical industry
We ate at a nearby Olive Garden. It's a chain of Italian restaurants, sort of like Bella Pasta. We had to wait for a seat, and I saw the receptionist write Debbie's surname as "Pigfoot". I don't think our waitress was very experienced.