Booze; One of the first places I checked out was the source of alcoholic drinks.  No big surprise there.  Pretty easy when there is a big sign on Main Street saying ‘Liquor Store’.   I love the fact that where you buy booze here is called a liquor store.  Not a wine store or off licence.  No hiding the fact that it is a place where you buy liquor, stuff that you consume in order to alter your state of mind, whether to get a nice buzz or legless.  Liquor.  They might as well have called it the alcohol store.  

And we are already, within a week, well known to the owner of the Hopewell House Liquor Store, Jim.   And we already know a great deal about him - 60yrs old and single, lives on the same street as us, went to University in the Mid-West and came here some for a couple of years at the behest of his nieces.  That was 20 years ago.  He loved the place and stayed -  something that we have heard from a wide range of people. My card didn't work when I went there Saturday and the fact that he was already willing to give me credit shows that he knows a good customer when he sees one.   I should also add that the store does indeed hold a very fine selection of booze, including wine and a surprising number of Irish whiskeys, all safely housed in a very pretty, Victorian building. . 

Staying with the booze theme, Friday night I made myself known to the locals in the Hopewell Valley Bistro and Inn - the only proper bar in town.  Typical American bar - albeit with a Hungarian ancestry rather than Irish.  Very friendly and with some decent beers - perhaps not so usual over here but it does reflect the growth in small, local breweries as Americans finally became tired of the liquid rubbish that they had been drinking.  Bit like the UK and the revival of real ales.  

People do talk to strangers over here in a way that does not always happen in the UK, or even Ireland.  And that is despite the 4 TVs mounted on the walls, each showing a different programme.  Plus the jukebox.  So I didn’t need my New York Times and did get to know a couple of young guys, Marty and Alex, plus a few others whose names escape me.  We discussed the merits of American football v rugby, the hypocrisy of allowing young men to fight and die for the country and to vote but not have a beer and of allowing the industrial sale of one poison - alcohol - but not the consumption of another - marijuana.  All in all, a good start at settling into my new local. 

Except for the fact that I really annoyed the barmaid, a peroxide blonde of indeterminate age, by not having enough cash for the correct tip. She informed me in no uncertain terms as to the correct custom in the US (15-20% now the norm) and only relaxed after a considerable amount of grovelling on my part and a promise to double my tip next time.   At least I avoided getting sucked in to any discussions on US politics or foreign policy.  Not sure yet which way this place swings.  Princeton would, I am sure, be fairly liberal but it might well be different out here in more rural areas.     

There is another bar, just outside of town - the Hillbilly Hall.  According to my new mates, Marty and Alex, you find a lot of bikers, hunters and local-yokels hanging here.  A place to explore when the first of the lads come out.