Tuesday, 30 April 2019
St Paul-Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA
Absolutely shattered as the train pulls into Chicago Union Station. About an hour before arriving, the clocks have gone back 1hr to Central Standard Time, having been on Eastern Standard Time since passing Tallahassee in Florida all those weeks ago. There was some confusion with the guard last night over what time breakfast finished and whether it was 0830hrs EST or CST. He made out it was CST, which would make sense as that would be 15 mins before arriving in Chicago. So it’s with some alarm that as the clocks go back as we hit the zone change at 0800hrs EST, which changes to 0700hrs CST, and thinking I’ve got another 90 minutes until breakfast finishes, that they announce that this is the final call for breakfast. Clearly, it’s 0830hrs EST, not CST, that breakfast finishes. I’m like a grumpy little ogre as I hurriedly get dressed in my swing a cat cabin which is rocking and a rolling all over the place, racing to grab a much needed coffee and disgusting egg, cheese and ham roll. All nicely microwaved in a plastic wrapper.
A young Amish lad, about 14 years old, sits on the table across the aisle and engages in conversation.
Now those that know me, know that the lesser spotted Touring Taurean needs a bit of peace and quiet as he wakes up from a sleepless night.
But the Amish lad’s infectious enthusiasm to have a chat is one I’ll put up with. He doesn’t know much about the big wide world and when I tell him I’m from Nottingham, England, he looks puzzled and asks if that’s in Canada.
My dear boy. You are about to be educated. Ask if he’s seen a world map before. He says he doesn’t think so. He has no idea where I’m from. Told you the Amish only had a basic education in my blog entry from last week.
Pull up Google Maps on phone to show the world. He’s impressed that I’ve come from across the Atlantic Ocean. Explain where England is and Europe. He wants to know if there’s anywhere that doesn’t speak English. Easier to tell him which countries do speak English.
He doesn’t watch TV, films or listen to the radio but he does know a song called ‘Whisky Glasses’, which is his favourite for some reason, so I pull it up on YouTube so he can listen. He’s chuffed to bits and smiling as he listens to the song. He and family are off to Chicago to then take the train to Los Angeles and then go down to New Mexico. Seems to be a big group going so wonder if it’s some special event.
Train actually arrives 20 minutes early into Chicago.
Oh. My. God.
It’s bloody freezing!
Having enjoyed hotter climes since, well, leaving Antarctica, it’s a shock to the system. About 4C, grey and lashing with rain.
About a 5hr wait until the next train. The Empire Builder will travel along the northern edge of the USA, following the Canadian border to Seattle over 45hrs. Two more nights in a swing a cat cabin.
Yay.
Could’ve gone for a walk about Chicago for a few hours but as I’ve been before, it’s bloody cold, it’s lashing it down with rain and I’m totally knackered, ensconce myself in the warm first class lounge and catch up on blog and diary for a few hours.
Finally board to discover that it’s a slightly newer version of the Sleepliner carriages and that there’s fractionally more space in the toilet/shower cubicle. Thankfully.
Shake, rattle and roll as we travel through the industrial areas of Illinois, Wisconsin and Minnesota. Having decided that the shower is just about big enough for me, decide I’ll take the plunge. Well, dear reader, if you could see some of the contortions I have to do get soaped up you would laugh. Coupled with being bounced about and nearly losing my balance. Yeah, great.
Communal dining in the restaurant car gives an opportunity to chat with fellow travellers. Two on my table are Chinese and hardly speak English. As my Chinese isn’t what it used to be, it’s a short hello, where you from, sort of exchange. Young lady to my left is very pleasant though and it’s an enjoyable natter over dinner. We’re both enjoying the wine, in an attempt to fall asleep later. She’s come by train from Maine and travelling to Seattle for her friend’s wedding at the weekend. During the course of conversation, becomes apparent that I’m old enough to be her Dad.
And I suddenly feel old. Very old.
Bed is made up during dinner by my Hungarian attendant who reminds me of a Hungarian secretary I worked with in Dublin. Could almost be her sister. Consequence of having quite a big bed is that it impinges on floor space so a bit of an obstacle course to get from one side of cabin to the other.
A few squeaks and vibrations to resolve first.
Bit of gaffer tape on the door latch as it has a habit of vibrating open enabling the door to slide open. Bit of gaffer tape, I say a bit, quite a lot actually, is deployed on the washhand basin unit to stick the partition to the structural column. Bit of tissue paper wedged in a locked cabinet to stop vibrations. Two rolled up towels stuffed between stowed upper bunk in the raised position and the ceiling to stop upper bunk squeaking on the metal catches. Small face flannel wedged between the rubbish bin and the door that hides rubbish bin to stop rubbish bin clanging in the cupboard. Ah yes. That just about covers all bases.
Not sure if it’s the beer, wine and whisky that makes me fall straight asleep. Or the fact that I’m totally knackered from last night.
But.
I sleep rather well!
