in Jackson, I first visited the Manship House. When I got out of the air-conditioned car, nearly hit me a stroke. I had not expected such an extreme humidity. It was so humid that I thought at first, I would not get any air. The old house was, however, re-conditioned, so it was almost too cold. Americans have no sense in this regard, either it cool until just the freezing point, or is it so hot / humid that you start from standing has already sweating. The house itself was quite nice, but basically nothing special.
The leader of another museum, once said, quite aptly: "When Santander America he would speak against Europeans really at all of history, American history is only 200 years old, so no comparison to the EU. . Once a building in America is 150 years old, the Americans are now into a couple of old furniture and declare it as a museum "
Someone else said:" if you yourself has no history, so you buy just the story of others, "and referred to a few paintings in a room of the d hrough which he led us, which had nothing to do with the past of the building or the former owner.
After d
em Manship House I went to the Old Capital Museum of Mississippi History. Since it has already been closed in 30 minutes, I marched in double time through the ancient halls. It was presented with great attention to detail and some funny ideas, but so far the only the city / building in question exhibits I had already seen everything in this or a similar form. As such, it was not difficult to show in the entire 30 minutes. 'To work'. When I left the Old Capital, it had started to rain. Since those were only the fine drizzle that forced itself upon me the suspicion that it was not a real rain, but the tremendous humidity, which was simply not able to stick in the air.
Since I was a bit tired from the long drive, I decided to look for a place to live and Jackson's research into the next day to continue when the weather was pleasant and open the sights again. So I read the day with a beer while I was passing by the city plan, which I had taken from the visitor center, I sought out the most interesting stations s .
The next morning I left the motel and went on my way to the first station. The Oaks House kla ng better on paper than it really was. It was a boring, small house made of wood. Not really exciting, so I skipped it and went on to the Mississippi Museum of Art Once there was the building itself a construction-free simplicity. By one of the window, I spied some of the pictures and I felt deeply bored. So
on through the town to the 'attraction', the Smith Robertson Museum, which had the history of African Americans on the subject. The importance of African Americans in the southern states was reproduced very well, the museum did not exist. To in the plan shown location was only a meadow me all sorts of junk that someone had dumped there. The entire neighborhood where the museum should be located, was very run down. Broken sidewalks and sometimes no longer present, the dilapidated houses and associated gardens full of rubbish, most of the shops boarded up or even ugemauert the inputs z 
. When I returned to the 'civilized world' with the tall office buildings zuzückkehrte, did not improve my impression of the city really. The streets were deserted, hardly a car on the road and I was the only person who was on foot. I could go at a snail's pace in red on 4-lane roads to even slightly out of the way without even a single car. The whole thing reminded me of horror films like '28 Days Later '. Since I verspührte already easily the urge to throw myself off a building (do not worry, they are written only to dramatic reasons above), I decided to leave this town too quickly and never to enter again. So I immediately drove off towards New Orleans, but more on that next post. mfG novel
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