Two really nice diners, far apart, along Grand Army of the Republic Highway in northern Pennsylvania.

The first after Clarks Summit, the Blue Bird II. Pretty unremarkable from the outside, but pure Fifties inside. The polished steel behind the counter, sporting an original green enamel milkshake stirrer, is a design fantasy. The tiles too are classic (though could do with a good scrub).

"Aw, honey, you didn’t like the root beer? Why didn’yatell me? I’da given ya somethin’ else? Tastes like bubblegum? I don’ like it myself."

And much further west, Ron’s Place – The Diner. In some cutie pie little town (they’re all pretty cutie pie) before Smethport and the Allegheny forest. (Must say the town’s don’t like giving up their names to strangers. There’s no, for example, Smithfield Butchery, Smithfield Garage, Smithfield Cafe, and, certainly along that route, the villages tend to run one into another, a ribbon of pretty, pretty house, in cutouts in the surrounding forests, which cover gentle, undulating hills for miles. The trees are still relatively young. There were real trees, once, but they were felled, the whole land stripped of its timber.

There has been a concerted effort to reforest the area, Jill and Doug, tell me. They start chatting to me in Ron’s. They are from Smethport, come up for lunch, they like Ron’s. There is some logging going on, pretty much controlled now. Hills were stripped completely bare. Photos from 20 years show that.

We talk about the Amazon, the denuding of the land. Really nice couple. Doug is going off to work at the oil refinery in Smethport. Been working there for 35 years. They produce wax products. They are both from the area, though Jill went west and spent time in California, and did a lot of soul searching about whether to come home or not. Worked in social security here for a while, a lot of social problems in the area, hidden in this idyllic setting.

But, yes, they’re blessed, and realise they’re blessed when I talk of South Africa.

Jill doesn’t like Harleys (don’t think she’d have said that if I was riding one), make too much noise.

If I were to venture a theory on the greatness of America, I’d say it’s the abundance of water. I’ve travelled a thousand plus miles through verdant county. Yes, the landscape has changed, houses surrounded by forests, to small fields surrounded by forests, then bigger fields surrounding pockets of forests, and fields with fringes of trees. But it has been green everywhere, not an irrigation scheme or dam in sight. Funny thing, no one’s growing vegetables or small crops for domestic consumption, not any I can see anyway.

Even domestic animals, travelled miles and miles before I saw some cows, and miles and miles more, before I saw some more. All Frieslands so far. The crops have been maize and some knee-high dark green bush, that I don’t recognise. Oh, and have seen some stabled horses. And in a horse box. And pulling some carriages in Chicago, advertising some theatre club, I think.

Along the way, very little evidence of dogs and cats. But in Chicago – there were  hundreds of dogs being walked. Seems a really nice place to live. Very Durban, the climate. Was a killed 87 degrees F when I came in.