As I drove from Mobile, Alabama, into the state of Mississippi I had no plans to be heading into Chicago, around 1000 miles directly north, just over a week later.

Certainly I had no intention to move from the coast in the south to the Canadian border in the north.

I could say I intended to follow the path of blues music north, from its inception in the Delta of the mighty Mississippi River to the home of its modern brother, rhythm and blues.

It would sound deep, poetic and smart.

But it would be untrue.

Instead it was weather reports, teeth and Tulsa that saw me driving into my very favourite USA city.

But more of that later. First let's talk about the state of Mississippi.

I left Mobile in Alabama and tracked back towards New Orleans. Within 45 minutes I was in Mississippi, and basically I turned right and started heading up the middle of the state.

I took back roads where possible and was amazed at how quickly I was in pretty thick forest country. I passed by the odd pick-up truck, the odd shack and the very odd small town for about two hours.

Passing through the town of Hattiesburg - which may once have been nice before it became totally overrun by a never-ending strip of franchise operations - I continued to stay clear of the main interstates and continued to drive through attractive forestland.

I stopped for a very late lunch in a town called Yazoo; in fact I had been so struck by the name I had targeted it as a place to stop.

Yazoo (pop. 14,500), means River of Death according to local Indian tribes which is, I have to say, very cheery. The River Yazoo, by which the city is located, has flooded historically and the local area was decimated by yellow fever in the 1850s,. But even so, naming your town 'River of Death' is a bit grim.

Mind you, the town was pretty grim. Dilapidated buildings down the one main street, with no bustling strip to compensate. Beyond the main street were the rail yards which once drove so much of the city's fortunes. Now they were quiet and empty.

Driving on I began to be clear of trees and enter the Mississippi Delta. This was not the river delta I had seen in New Orleans - in fact I hadn't spotted the mighty river yet today - but rather a delta of rich moist farmland. This sat between the Mississippi and the Yazoo Rivers.

This stretch of agricultural gold had historically been what drove the wealth of the state; in fact it still does.

It's a sad fact that Mississippi had the fifth largest state economy prior to the Civil War, while today it has the smallest. Over-dependence on cotton, the Civil War itself and the unwillingness of nearly a century of white leaders to accept change all contributed to that.

The delta is basically a wide stretch of farmland, as far as the eye can see.

The next few hours were spent driving through the countryside and passing through a farm town every 20 to 30 miles.

I drove hard that day, partly because I needed to be back in Tulsa to have my teeth rechecked in three days, and partly because there wasn't a whole lot to stop for.

When I finally did stop it was in the town of Indianola (pop. 12,000). Its name is a reference to its Indian heritage as it is built on an old Indian settlement.

If anywhere is the home of the blues, it is probably Indianola. BB King grew up there; Albert King (no relation) was born there. Today it is the home of the BB King Museum and Delta Interpretive Center, a $14 million facility dedicated to King and the blues.

I had a chance for a quick look through before it closed and it's a state-of-the-art centre which celebrates BB's life but also the history of the Blues. Classes are taught, so it doesn't just celebrate what was - it also facilitates what might become.

Perhaps not surprisingly Mississippi has the highest percentage population of African Americans of any state. The figure sits at around 37%, but in towns such as Yazoo and Indianola it stands at around 65% African American.

It really strikes you as you walk these towns. Not I hasten to add in a negative way, it's just that as a 6ft 2inch blonde with a Kiwi accent you are an absolute rarity. I kept on being asked to speak and then laughed at by the little kids in various stores I popped into.

The next morning I left around 7am as I had a lot of miles to cover that day. The sun was coming up on what proved to be a lovely day.

It was still flat delta country, but more and more it was cotton fields I was passing.

I have never seen cotton grow and it was pretty fascinating to see the white cotton buds on the plants. Some of it had blown and collected like giant cotton balls on the side of the road. Weird stuff.

Passing through a little town called Leyland I glanced at something that looked like Kermit the frog as I passed by. Two minutes later I couldn't get it out of my mind so I doubled back, and sure enough there was Kermy.

Leyland was the birthplace of Jim Henson, creator of Kermit and the Muppets. I drove down some side streets and saw that away from the main road it was a very pretty little town, with some lovely Southern homes looking out on a little stream. Perhaps it was Kermit's stream!

An hour later I crossed the mighty Mississippi River again. As I said in my last blog, it really is huge, wide, slow and imposing. Although it looked muddy and brown further down its path, here, helped by the sun, it looked almost blue.

Crossing the river also meant I was crossing the state line, into Arkansas. I was now retracing my way to Tulsa and so let's skip a few days, dear reader, and catch up with my departure from that very attractive city.

I was, I must admit, feeling a little frustrated. The dentist had looked at my teeth for about five minutes and told me what I had already guessed - that they were making progress but it was way too early to 'de-brace' them. I was also feeling a bit stagnant and was, in the nicest possible way, keen to get some miles between Tulsa and me.

I had planned to head to Memphis, or to Nashville, but there was talk about more heavy rain in the region, and even flash floods in those two cities later in the week.

The other issue was Memphis meant another two days driving through Arkansas, and while it made sense as a destination pre-Tulsa now it felt a little 'Groundhog Day'.

The next two days I drove in a vague nor'easterly direction, which was vaguely in the direction of Nashville. The first day was all about miles, and so I took interstates into Tennessee, mainly in driving rain.

The second day was forecast to be the one fine day of the week, so I decided to take some back roads, and drive through the Mark Twain National Forests.

It was a beautiful day and a lovely drive, through Southern Missouri. The colours were truly stunning, with a cold blue sky, and late fall making the forests rusty red. There were also some fascinating old towns, including Mansfield, Missouri (pop. 1350), which is the town where Laura Ingalls Wilder settled and wrote her 'Little House on the Prairie' books.

If, like me, that immediately conjures images of a sickly sweet 1970s TV series, I encourage you to take five minutes to learn a little more of this woman's life. She clearly was quite a character, who finally died in 1957, aged 90.

It was a lovely day, but when I looked at my map that night I felt like I had moved about an inch, despite 6+ hours driving.

With bad weather forecast, I was itchy. So next morning, when I passed an entry to the interstate with a sign that said Chicago - 300 miles... well, something took hold!

I don't know if it was Lew or me, but suddenly we were Chicago-bound.

I love Chicago.

It was the first American city I ever spent more than stop-over time in. Over the last ten years I have been lucky enough to visit it six times, normally for three or four days. I have been to blues clubs, walked the Magnificent Mile, and even heard Mickey Rooney sing the seventh innings stretch at Wrigley Field.

It is my favourite city in America, and has been described - correctly I think - as the "most American of big cities".

It has stupendous architecture both in modern buildings such as the Willis Towers, and classical with the Wrigley Building being my favourite example. It has great shopping down the Magnificent Mile, beautiful parks and great museums.

It also surprisingly enough has great beaches and lovely water views. Chicago sits on the shore of Lake Michigan, a giant piece of water. You cannot see the other side at all and so it feels very much like standing by the sea.

But to me what makes Chicago special is the people. They are tough, but with a great sense of humour. They live in a city that has extreme temperature ranges (40+ degrees Celsius in summer, sub zero in winter), with a wind that can cut right through you. They support teams that (with the exception of the Bulls in the 1990s) never win anything. Yet they love a great party, and have a strong sense of community.

In part, that community comes from the fact that many Chicagoans came up from Mississippi, Ohio, Tennessee in the 1900s and then again in huge waves in the 1930s. They sought work but brought with them a strong work ethic and a strong sense of place. The African American influx from the South also brought people seeking a new life but with a strong sense of where they came from, and the music they played there.

The Irish and then Polish who form a big chunk of Chicago's gene pool added their own strong community ties and traditions.

The other thing Chicagoans do which I love is that they come to the city centre. Walk through Chicago's heart at any time and there are always people - shopping, walking or partying. There is also a significant number who live in the city and it gives it a vibrant feel that many USA cities can lack.

I think this sense of place, along with the bold, almost Gotham-like architecture, is the essence of the Windy City. I love it!

I only stayed one night in Chicago, but it really buoyed my spirits, and I felt excited all over again. Travelling every day may sound wonderful, and largely it is, but I had needed a jump-start and despite the rain I encountered in Chicago, I got it!

By the way, I must admit that the great photos of Chicago are not my own. Up until now they have been 100% mine, but rain does not facilitate good photography...

It was four and a half hours to my next destination, Cincinnati. Home of a fictional station called WKRP, a real (and successful) NFL team called the Bengals, a small company called Procter & Gamble, and it is also chilli capital of the world.

Cincinnati's location is stunning, right on the shores of the (again very wide) Ohio River, and therefore right on the Kentucky-Ohio border. It framed the city beautifully, helped by the construction of the stunning Paul Brown Stadium, home of the Bengals.

I had never been before but there is something I like about these mid- Western big cities.

Cincinnati was actually a boomtown way before Chicago, aided by the river, and is often described as the first 'American City'. But Cincinnati's growth slowed somewhat and it was eventually surpassed by the city I had just visited.

That said, Cincinnati is today a big, vibrant city and home to a number of huge USA companies, including P&G, Macys and Kroger's. I liked it a lot and felt very at home there.

It is also a very architecturally striking city, although again probably suffering in comparison to the Windy City.

One area where it would be a dead heat between the two cities is in their desire to let loose and have some fun.

You see I was in Cincinnati for Halloween.

In many ways I was relieved to see this festival come and go. The Americans take Halloween incredibly seriously, far more than we do Guy Fawke's. For weeks I had been driving by pumpkin displays outside houses, and Halloween displays in store.

For two weeks before the scary night, TV had been inundated by it. The Food Channel had 48 hours solid on it. The team at Good Morning America dressed up like ‘Star Wars' characters. It was everywhere, and crazy.

What I have discovered here is that it's not really about the kids; it's about the grown-ups.

Halloween parties are epic here. People get to vamp up, dress sexy and get drunk. No matter how straight-laced, God-fearing and 'soccer mommish' you have to be the rest of the year, you get a free pass on Halloween night.

And boy, do they take to it. I wondered around Cincinnati a little that night and there were drunken vampires canoodling with inebriated zombies everywhere I looked.

It was so clearly a release, and a harmless one for most that I ended up getting it. But I have to say; if I have to see one more carved pumpkin I may stop smiling!

Anyway dear reader, I will leave you with that thought of Middle America going slightly ga-ga. I have more exploring to do, and Washington DC to get to.