The tourist mecca that is the New Jersey Turnpike

When I was young I dreamed of travelling the world. And it must be said that I've managed to live that dream, variously living and travelling in countries in pretty much every continent, from Andorra to Zimbabwe (well, two hours at Harare airport, if that counts).

Today, I furthered those wander-lust goals, by finally travelling to one of those places that you only ever hear of in movies, novels, and the occasional celebrity bio. That's right, today, I got to travel to... the New Jersey Turnpike. To be honest, the Turnpike wasn't the actual destination, but in passing Newark Airport, one can't help but traverse it. It was, um, er, well... underwhelming. The other parts of New Jersey that we passed were interesting (at least to those like us previously unacquainted with the state). The Hudson seems to have some kind of flood plain stretching west from Manhattan, on which the industrious Americans have built a bewildering array of rail yards and warehouse outlets. I got a wry smile out of the real estate signs proclaiming a particularly wet and frozen ditch as the ideal next shopping mall (or maul, as I prefer to think of them).

The good news is, all of this was to further our goal of furnishing our new apartment. Mr. Kamprad's Ikea has of course spread to the tax haven that is Elizabeth, New Jersey, and it was there that we found a few fire-engine red sofas, and all of those cleverly engineered mass storage cabinets that seem appropriate for an apartment the size of a postage stamp.

So that's New Jersey ticked off the list. Only 48 states to go.