Savannah to Atlanta to Handkerchiefs

It's not just you; I haven't been writing in my diary either. Not so much a case of too much fun (though that's going around) as not enough time. Savannah rivaled Charleston for prettiest city on the east coast and our hotel's free breakfast of Krispy Kremes was something to roll out of bed at 7 for.

Best beds so far; if you ever go to Savannah, make sure you spend your night at the Thunderbird Inn. Since Orlando Margs and I have become obsessed with food and the South hasn't let us down (was just interrupted by my mother on skype who commented on our food preoccupation so will stop writing about it right now).

Margs and I were at our walking best in Savannah and we knocked off all 24 squares in one day. The historic district is laid out in an almost-perfect grid so it's virtually impossible to get lost, though we did have some trouble locating one of the town's three bookshops. We visited Lafayette Square both days and had some quality reading time by the fountain (James, we make sure we've seen all the sites first.)

I'll have to be brief as I write this in an Atlanta Borders store across the road from the Amtrak station. We're waiting for our train to Washington and, as seems to be the theme of this adventure, it's running late. So on to Atlanta.

Our friend Tisha, niece of my parents' friends, who was in Adelaide to work over her uni holidays, lives in a gated community across the road from Emory College where she's in her third year of study. It's a four-storey building and we were on the top floor. On the second day I woke to find my calves aching. As Tisha is busy with Rush Week, a soriety initiation process, Margs and I took off to explore the shopping districts and - a brief, but necessary, food reference - discovered 'the Full Cup' a small cafe that reminds me of something you might stumble across in the Adelaide Hills. Not only was my chicken tortilla soup superb, but the bread, which they specialise in, was the nicest I've ever had. Some of you might know that my dad fancies himself a bread connoisseur so it's fair to say I've sampled more than a few loaves in my time; this stuff beats everything he's enthused over hands down. AND they ship anywhere in the US. It's so good Margs actually bought a loaf to cart around, and that says something because backpackers don't add weight to their loads lightly.

We ventured out that night on our own to a place on Peachtree called The Hole in the Wall. Tisha had soriety duties and there was talk of us meeting up. Before we split we met some more of her friends, were offered some homemade cupcakes and tasted raspberry cider, which I've fallen for. The Hole in the Wall, not actually a hole in the wall, was memorable for its bartender, who bought us drinks, and the woman in the restroom, who handed out paper towels and squirted hand soap on your hand and sat on a stool, smoking, with a tip jar in her lap.

By 3am we had conquered the dance floor so made our way across the road to Ihop (I think, memory is quite hazy), a 24-diner, where our tipsy minds fancied sampling some crepes. Got back to Tisha's at 4am and discovered the door locked with no way of getting in. After some furious pounding on the door, countless phone calls, stone throwing at windows, attempts at breaking in through the garage door, we resigned ourselves to a night on the doorstop. I've never been so cold in my life and I feel for homeless people who do this night after night. After commandeering the neighbours' doormats we shielded ourselves from the wind, tucked away in a small alcove. At 6.30am we got hold of Tisha's roommate, New-York accented Kayla - hooray! Had horrible thoughts of losing foot to frostbite - who stumbled out of bed to let us in. Will forever be grateful to Kayla for opening that door.

We didn't get up till late afternoon the next day and when we did it was felt that we deserved to go book shopping: Bill Bryson's The Lost Continent, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (Celia, I've been searching for this my whole trip! but until now every bookshop had sold out so I hope it is worth it), another two of McKinley's (Lys, you really must read her when you get home). On the way back from this expedition, we discovered a (oops food again, just a passing reference) falafel shop that satisfied my mind as well as my stomach.

We didn't do any typical sightseeing as museums and art galleries were too expensive for the budget, but I would visit again. Atlanta was unexpectedly pretty when we were expecting a more industrialised town. In fact it didn't feel like a city at all; there are trees everywhere and though we're in winter, shades of autumn are all around. For every ten trees that have lost their leaves there is one which is doing its best to keep hold of them. Houses, big two-storey houses, are sprawled on large blocks and, though the rainy weather is keeping people inside, I imagine these are friendly neighbourhoods as there are few fences to divide them.

And to end, my quest to find a handkerchief - yes, there is a quest - is not going at all well. Since Vegas Margs and I have been on the hunt and I'm still empty handed. So if anyone knows exactly where I can obtain one, please let me know. I'm desperate.