Today started out really well. The room was warm and the bed very comfortable and the alarm woke me (because I had set it) at 7:30. After showering and dressing, I was off about 8.
I walked along Michigan Avenue north until I got to the river – there I really did notice the four buildings, one on each corner, about the same height but in very different styles. While walking along, I found walking in the bare sidewalk okay, the slush okay but occasionally difficult, the tramped snow sometimes difficult, but fresh snow very difficult. I can understand why some shoes have tread patterns deeper than the lugged tyres on four-wheel-drives – that would have made it easy (except then I would have to carry three pairs of shoes). I arrived at the Hancock Building just after 9 – not because it was so far, but because I was looking around. I went straight up ti the observatory there. Unlike the Empire State Building, it was totally glassed in. The temperature was very pleasant, but visibility was only a mile or so. Still, I could see the lake (Lake Michigan) and the general layout of the city and get my bearings. It was well worth it.
When I got down it was starting to snow. One chap was having a cigarette in shirtsleeves. I asked him if he was cold and he said he was from Minnesota. He assumed that I would understand, but I don’t know whether that meant he was from a cold place (and this felt warm) or whether it was like Tasmanians for us and, “where there’s no sense … “ so I’ll have to wait for an explanatory note from someone else.
On the way up I had seen a place called the Tribune Liberty Museum. I went in there and saw a display about the change in rights (and responsibilities) of US citizens and also the pesidential election process. I got my token to vote in their poll, so I have voted for someone who may become the next US president – I’ll find out in November! It also brought me back because there was a school group touring through, and I was trying to understand one student who wanted to ask me questions about Australia, but another had to translate – some have too thick a Chicago accent!
I took my photographs of the buildings and also the Trump Tower, which although still under construction, has tenants in the hotel section already.
I then set out to participate in Bart’s tour. I did the Cultural centre, which is a magnificent building hiding from the public. Not only does it have a lot of information, it has displays and is a sight to see in its own right. I spent a lot of time seeing the displays of art there. Then I thought I had beeter see the Sears Tower. I grabbed a quick lunch in the Richardson Centre (and spoke to some police there and had some questions answered – they do patrol on Segways, but the batteries cut out without warning in cold weather, they get a lot of questions about where the Blues Brothers movie was shot – I got a picture in there, but Jake and Elroy weren’t waiting for the elevator) and made it to the Sears Tower just as total cloud cover set in. I couldn’t resist going up anyway, saw the movie on its making (you don’t have a choice) and got an attendant up there to take a photo of me. I did take one photo, but you can’t see anything but cloud in it. At the foot, while talking to the attendants there (I think I should work freelance for the Australian Tourism Commission), I heard another Aussie and he heard me. As he was spending four days in Chicago, he decided to try later (to see something). He then asked where his hotel was (okay, he knew where it was but he needed to know how to get there) and the attendants told him to get a cab or something, but I had just walked from nearly twice as far away (it was just over a mile). I now know why there are so few pedestrians – they either hop a cab or public transport, or drive, but walking more than a few blocks is anathema to many. Given the snow and cold, I can understand why, but without luggage it isn’t a problem for most of us. I also found out that the sidewalks outside the Sears Building are heated (so there is no snow there), that many buildings and the city employ people to shovel snow off the sidewalks (and into the gutters, so cars grind it up and splash it back over people silly enough to walk!). I saw my first gritter and also a small tractor clearing snow on a plaza area.
After that I went off to the Washington Library. Bart had added this as almost an afterthought, but in fact by the time I had had a quick look through, seen the exhibits on the ninth floor, asked and answered the questions of a security guard there and then dropped in to look at the Talking Books section (where I ended up in conversation with two assistants AND the chief and gave them my email so they could see how they featured in this blog – Hi girls! – and they could see my pictures of Australia), I had run out of time for the day. I will do the Ars Centre and the lobby of the Architecture Building tomorrow, but I must put on record (in case you look) that your map was very useful but the time line was waaaaay out, so thanks, Bart.
I walked back through the snow, with forecasts of feet of snow overnight and tomorrow morning, to my hotel – the walk was shorter than I thought but still long enough. My poor camera got coated with snow because, with so much that I have to keep on me, there isn’t room under my jacket for it.
Some current observations:
public buildings being warm, many people seem to go in for shelter from the cold, but if they weren’t quite so hot, the heating bill would be less, fewer would shelter inside and outside wouldn’t seem so cold.
commercial areas have restricted access to toilets, but in some public buildings, the toilets are unrestricted access and far better maintained.
people look to the pavement rather than in front when walking along not because they are rude or ignorant of others, but to cut out the wind and snow from hitting them in the face and mouth.
most Americans love the feel and look of Australian money and see the sense of having different sizes and colours of notes (bills).
it’s a good job there is a visa waiver program because most Americans would love to visit Australia.
most Americans only know of Paul Hogan and Steve Irwin and have no idea of the size or population of Australia (it’s nearly the same as the continental US, with gaps where Washington state and Texas would be, and around 21 million).
people in Chicago go on merry-go-rounds, not carousels, and what we see on TV as “American” is as accurate as what overseas people think of Australia from Crocodile Dundee, Steve Irwin or the soaps (Home and Away, and Neighbours).
Hopefully I can get another early night and, after a morning look around the last of “Bart’s Tour” I shall be on the Californian Zephyr before 3 and go through Denver (and miss seeing Velma, my cousin, there, though I have spoken to her and her prospective husband) on my way to San Francisco!
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
30 January
After a late night (or should that be early morning?) I woke while we were pulled up at a station. After seeing no signs but plenty of advertisement (how many people read changing signs at 3 in the morning?) and light flakes of snow, I realised we were in Cleveland, OH. This was reinforced when we started moving a few minutes later and the sign “Cleveland Stadium” was obvious on the front of the stadium (which I had been seeing the side of for the previous fifteen minutes).
It was then a matter of dozing through the rest of the night. My instinct for supervising those around me when they may be vulnerable stops me from doing anything but dozing when there are more than a few in the carriage. The train stopped not long after 6 and at 6:20 I went down to have breakfast. During the meal I got chatting with a fellow from Denver, just returning from a family reunion with his daughter, his wife and her present husband. He was saying they get on well together now, but couldn’t while married. He also used to have dogs and quarter horses (which he used for hunting, but in common with many, age and responsibilities means he ate too much with little exercise and now is too heavy for the horses). After I got back it was light and to the right of the train (I would hazard north, but with no familiar landmarks visible, not even the sun, I couldn’t be sure) was a frozen lake. It looked bleak and not even the seagulls would land on it. At about 8 a crane went by on the other track.
Apparently we were stopped for two reasons – some cars had gone into the water and recovery of them blocked the line and we had to wait for the paying customer to pass (the freight train). Later there was debris from a train accident on the line. At 9:20 we were still waiting for the line to clear. It doesn’t matter much to me, but there are many who want to make connections today to trains to the west coast. The crane went back by at 9:30. Finally we moved off at 10:10. Good business for all the food cars.
I had little chats with various other people in the car – a fellow from New York who now lives in Denver and a tourist from Britain. We lamented the too-wide choice given to buyers of mobile telephones but accepted the better pricing and facilities. I also continued to speak with Bart and with the family going out to California to visit.
By this time we were scheduled to be into Chicago over five hours late. There wasn’t much we could do, but the conductor held out hope that the other trains would wait. As long-distance trains, they had more opportunity to make up time heading west than we could on a busy rail corridor (and at times we had a freight train on each side of us).
It seems funny unless you have done the travelling in this way, but strong, though sometimes ephemeral, friendships are forged while travelling together. Nodding to each other passing becomes a word or two and soon it becomes a sentence and then conversation is on. The scenery out the window was constant for a long time, large unfenced fields with houses close together on the roads. I thought the absence of fences peculiar and the size of the farms too small. My guru Bart came ot the rescue, informing me that the houses were now just tenanted and the fields were owned and farmed by large corporations. There had previously been hedgerows separating the fields, but they had been removed so the corporations could farm more efficiently. That removed the habitat for many native animals and so now there was no real diversity of species and few if any native animals. Also, coming near Chicago there seemed to be many and vibrant heavy industries, but even these are apparently a mere shadow of what was in the past. The problem of offshore manufacturing and supply is common to Australia and the US (and I remember seeing on Broadway yesterday a delivery of boxes identical to what I see normally in Australia, with the “Made in China” common but the delivery address different).
We travelled along the south shore of Lake Michigan before turning north to enter the city. Arriving at Union Station, I waited to let the others off first, as I wasn’t really in a hurry (as it was getting towards 3, all I really wanted to do was settle into my hotel and orient myself in the city. I had in my possession a half-day tour of the city put together by Bart, as he now knew quite well the sorts of things that interest me. He had even started and finished me at the hotel. Our friendships came to an hiatus (they may or may not continue or develop, as we all go our separate ways) but we all wished each other the best for the next leg of our travels (and the lady in front of me passed on a book to the couple opposite her – it’s a very good way of reading many books but ever only carrying one, and most can be sure the book will be read and then passed on again). Most were able to catch their connecting trains as they had been held. Union Station in Chicago was very busy – busier than NewYork.
For the second time I took a cab to my hotel. Although it was just within walking distance, lugging the suitcase while toting the backpack and carrying paperwork is not worth a few dollars. I was lucky enough to get a taxi at the entrance to the station immediately he had dropped another fare (but the Amtrak assistant inside thought I wanted to go to Texas, rather than get a taxi – I didn’t realise MY accent was so broad). It was very cold and he wasn’t getting out, so he flipped the boot (whoops, TRUNK) and I had to put my luggage in. I wonder if he realised his chance of getting a tip evaporated there and then. It only took five minutes to get to the Essex Inn at 800 South Michigan and I had to get the suitcase out again. To add insult to injury, he picked my accent as English!!!
Check-in at the hotel was quick and painless. The only problem I can see with booking through Travelocity or similar is that you’re never sure whether you are getting the best available rate. So far mine seem to have been okay, especially considering locations.
I went out for a walk and to get a meal. I walked a fair way and realised that the weather report in the lift of 11° was Fahrenheit, not Celsius. Snow still littered the sidewalk at 4 p.m. and after ten blocks I was freezing. When I saw a Chicago Police car with “To serve and protect” on the side, I expected to see Jake and Elroy just ahead of them in the Bluesmobile.
Back at the hotel I had a bath to thaw out (and perhaps to make up for the fact that I had been on the train all night) and I read the local maps and tourist material. What I will do is visit the observatories to see the whole of Chicago and much of Lake Michigan at once and also to orient myself before I step out on the “Bart” tour. I must visit the plaza where the Blues Brothers last scene was filmed (I could never forgive myself if I didn’t see it as it will be so close).
Now as I go through blogging and editing photos to post, laying back in my warm room on my comfortable queensize bed, I will lower my head and have a minute’s silence for all those who have to, or have just, returned to work (oops, I apologize for using that four-letter word).
An early night and then an early start will see me traversing much of Chicago tomorrow and leaving only a little for the morning after, for on that day I head off west on the Californian Zephyr to travel through Denver, Salt Lake City and the Rockies before landing on the west coast at San Francisco. For that trip I splurged and will be in a sleeper.
It was then a matter of dozing through the rest of the night. My instinct for supervising those around me when they may be vulnerable stops me from doing anything but dozing when there are more than a few in the carriage. The train stopped not long after 6 and at 6:20 I went down to have breakfast. During the meal I got chatting with a fellow from Denver, just returning from a family reunion with his daughter, his wife and her present husband. He was saying they get on well together now, but couldn’t while married. He also used to have dogs and quarter horses (which he used for hunting, but in common with many, age and responsibilities means he ate too much with little exercise and now is too heavy for the horses). After I got back it was light and to the right of the train (I would hazard north, but with no familiar landmarks visible, not even the sun, I couldn’t be sure) was a frozen lake. It looked bleak and not even the seagulls would land on it. At about 8 a crane went by on the other track.
Apparently we were stopped for two reasons – some cars had gone into the water and recovery of them blocked the line and we had to wait for the paying customer to pass (the freight train). Later there was debris from a train accident on the line. At 9:20 we were still waiting for the line to clear. It doesn’t matter much to me, but there are many who want to make connections today to trains to the west coast. The crane went back by at 9:30. Finally we moved off at 10:10. Good business for all the food cars.
I had little chats with various other people in the car – a fellow from New York who now lives in Denver and a tourist from Britain. We lamented the too-wide choice given to buyers of mobile telephones but accepted the better pricing and facilities. I also continued to speak with Bart and with the family going out to California to visit.
By this time we were scheduled to be into Chicago over five hours late. There wasn’t much we could do, but the conductor held out hope that the other trains would wait. As long-distance trains, they had more opportunity to make up time heading west than we could on a busy rail corridor (and at times we had a freight train on each side of us).
It seems funny unless you have done the travelling in this way, but strong, though sometimes ephemeral, friendships are forged while travelling together. Nodding to each other passing becomes a word or two and soon it becomes a sentence and then conversation is on. The scenery out the window was constant for a long time, large unfenced fields with houses close together on the roads. I thought the absence of fences peculiar and the size of the farms too small. My guru Bart came ot the rescue, informing me that the houses were now just tenanted and the fields were owned and farmed by large corporations. There had previously been hedgerows separating the fields, but they had been removed so the corporations could farm more efficiently. That removed the habitat for many native animals and so now there was no real diversity of species and few if any native animals. Also, coming near Chicago there seemed to be many and vibrant heavy industries, but even these are apparently a mere shadow of what was in the past. The problem of offshore manufacturing and supply is common to Australia and the US (and I remember seeing on Broadway yesterday a delivery of boxes identical to what I see normally in Australia, with the “Made in China” common but the delivery address different).
We travelled along the south shore of Lake Michigan before turning north to enter the city. Arriving at Union Station, I waited to let the others off first, as I wasn’t really in a hurry (as it was getting towards 3, all I really wanted to do was settle into my hotel and orient myself in the city. I had in my possession a half-day tour of the city put together by Bart, as he now knew quite well the sorts of things that interest me. He had even started and finished me at the hotel. Our friendships came to an hiatus (they may or may not continue or develop, as we all go our separate ways) but we all wished each other the best for the next leg of our travels (and the lady in front of me passed on a book to the couple opposite her – it’s a very good way of reading many books but ever only carrying one, and most can be sure the book will be read and then passed on again). Most were able to catch their connecting trains as they had been held. Union Station in Chicago was very busy – busier than NewYork.
For the second time I took a cab to my hotel. Although it was just within walking distance, lugging the suitcase while toting the backpack and carrying paperwork is not worth a few dollars. I was lucky enough to get a taxi at the entrance to the station immediately he had dropped another fare (but the Amtrak assistant inside thought I wanted to go to Texas, rather than get a taxi – I didn’t realise MY accent was so broad). It was very cold and he wasn’t getting out, so he flipped the boot (whoops, TRUNK) and I had to put my luggage in. I wonder if he realised his chance of getting a tip evaporated there and then. It only took five minutes to get to the Essex Inn at 800 South Michigan and I had to get the suitcase out again. To add insult to injury, he picked my accent as English!!!
Check-in at the hotel was quick and painless. The only problem I can see with booking through Travelocity or similar is that you’re never sure whether you are getting the best available rate. So far mine seem to have been okay, especially considering locations.
I went out for a walk and to get a meal. I walked a fair way and realised that the weather report in the lift of 11° was Fahrenheit, not Celsius. Snow still littered the sidewalk at 4 p.m. and after ten blocks I was freezing. When I saw a Chicago Police car with “To serve and protect” on the side, I expected to see Jake and Elroy just ahead of them in the Bluesmobile.
Back at the hotel I had a bath to thaw out (and perhaps to make up for the fact that I had been on the train all night) and I read the local maps and tourist material. What I will do is visit the observatories to see the whole of Chicago and much of Lake Michigan at once and also to orient myself before I step out on the “Bart” tour. I must visit the plaza where the Blues Brothers last scene was filmed (I could never forgive myself if I didn’t see it as it will be so close).
Now as I go through blogging and editing photos to post, laying back in my warm room on my comfortable queensize bed, I will lower my head and have a minute’s silence for all those who have to, or have just, returned to work (oops, I apologize for using that four-letter word).
An early night and then an early start will see me traversing much of Chicago tomorrow and leaving only a little for the morning after, for on that day I head off west on the Californian Zephyr to travel through Denver, Salt Lake City and the Rockies before landing on the west coast at San Francisco. For that trip I splurged and will be in a sleeper.
29 January
Memo:
Good ideas useful so far include: power board with only one adaptor,; having currency in the country I’m arriving in already; writing up blog each day; deciding not to carry any excess material (either dispose of it, keep it if small and useful, or post it home when it becomes too much to carry); using public transport (get to see far more of the city.
Bad ideas include not having enough pockets, but next time I will alter what I carry.
The early morning wakeup call did not happen (thank goodness) so it was about 8:30 by the time I rose and went through my normal procedure. I had noticed an express checkout slip under my door, and as I had not incurred any extra charges (as far as I knew), I chose that option. A quick call to the front desk verified that and I was off.
The subway station was at the corner of the block (ten metres from the front door), but the line to Penn Station was a longer walk – but still within the same area, and all underground. It was a quick trip to the station and there I deposited my luggage (backpack and suitcase) so I could walk around unencumbered.
When I walked out I found I was at the main entrance to the station – at Madison Square – so I walked down 32nd to Broadway and decided to walk it, looking at the sights along the way, seeing if I could get a SIM card and also get some breakfast. The first thing that got to me was the lack of traffic – perhaps it was just where I was, but there wasn’t much at all. The second thing was that about half the traffic was New York taxis; a further quarter was commercial traffic and less than a quarter were private vehicles (I know it doesn’t totally add up, but private limousines and hire cars accounted for the difference). The second thing was the amount of sidewalk covered over by scaffolding because of either building or renovation above. The third thing was the number of small shops located on the first floor (our ground) of almost every building. Not only were there so many of them, but they looked to be poorly patronised. The fourth (and last) thing was the sheer number and variety of street vendors (all licenced and wearing their tags). Here I couldn’t resist a bargain, and at five T-shirts for $10, I promised I would buy some on the way back. Just after that I found my first place where I could get a SIM card. The person fitting it assured me I didn’t need a PIN (I hope that’s correct) and made sure it worked (1-347-659-8149 from within the US, 0011 1 347 659 8149 from Australia and ? from elsewhere). One task down and one to go. As I progressed further south hunger and thirst overcame good judgement, so McDonalds came to the fore again. An interesting sign in every store I saw was a time limit of 20 minutes for consuming food and no loitering if you don’t buy food. The toilets were usually locked. Twenty-five minutes later I left, fortunately not evicted or arrested. I was at Union Square, so I photographed that and other places on the way back. By this stage walking was beginning to pall, as was seeing more and more of the same. At one traffic light I commented to German tourists that it was only visitors to New York who obeyed the “Don’t Walk” signs – they agreed, and just to reinforce it, a traffic policeman walked against the red, with a phalanx of natives beside and behind him. Oh to see a Melbourne Victoria Police officer handing out tickets for walking against the red!
I got back to the T-shirt vendor, who recognised me but had his wares covered because it was showering. He quickly uncovered them and I bought five shirts of varying sizes. He knew that Heath ledger had died, but little else of Australia. The only problem with detailing that is my nephews will know how little I spent on the things that will be arriving in Adelaide as soon as I get to a Post Office and can send them over (remember, it’s the thought that counts and the postage will probably bring them up to Australian retail).
Back at Penn Station I looked for somewhere to sit. You have to produce your ticket to sit in the waiting lounge, so I did so and was sat next to by a lady from New York who was off to Washington for a funeral. Discussing my views so far of New York, she agreed that the subways were dirty, New Yorkers rude and not inclined to obey directions and that the population and size were large. Just before she went, we parted and she said she was going to enjoy the funeral – the celebration afterwards would be too good to miss!
I got a drink and had that, read the complimentary New York Post (which was being handed out free) – the style seemed like something out of an old movie and definitely did not make me want to buy the full edition – and did the Sudoku to keep my mind active, lest it atrophy from too much writing and not enough thinking. I messaged Fran with my new SIM (didn’t call as she is fifteen and a half hours ahead, which would make it about 5:30 a.m.) and tried to call Peggy in Arizona, but now answer (so I don’t know if I called correctly and she just wasn’t I, or whether I was using a wrong number).
I picked up my luggage from the Parcel Check, waited a few minutes more, and then at 3:40 boarded the train. This time it was just show the ticket (push the passport out of the way) and down. So I boarded Train 49, the Lake Shore Limited, for Chicago.
Here I was fortunate enough to meet a local from Chicago, Bart, who was able to explain the easiest way to get to the hotel I am booked into (and knew of it, Essex on Michigan). He also sat on the opposite window seat so, if there were interesting sights, we would be able to move seats and I could see them. This reinforced my view of the friendliness of Americans, certainly common to all I have met. Before we left the station Bart pointed out a relic of the past grandeur of the Pennsylvania Railroad Station in New York – a finely crafted bronze handrail, contrasting with the current utilitarian steel. Within a few minutes he was pointing out the Hudson River, so we sat together and introduced each other to many aspects of our respective countries.
This car we are in (all travelling through to Chicago) has power sockets, but only one to each pair of seats, so I can’t recharge the mobile or iPod at the same time as using the laptop. Bart headed off to dinner (at the first, 5:30 call) while I blogged valiantly on.
Two girls further down the car had picked on My accent and when I heard the word “Australian”, I headed back and spoke to them. It turned out that Lauren had studied in Australia at Melbourne University in 2006 and done some travelling, including up to Cairns and down to Phillip Island, the Grampians and the Great Ocean Road. We spoke about many of the differences, in food, culture and sport, and she became quite moved and expressed a strong desire to return to visit soon. I detailed my future trips, both for this section and for the next half, and got some hints. The two girls are going to Seattle to house-sit for Lauren’s grandparents and I referred to the now notorious “Corey” party in Melbourne and hoped they didn’t do the same. After giving them my photo address on Flickr, I returned to do some more writing.
Not long after I came across my first unsavoury incident on trains. Talking to a father of youug children while waiting at the end of the carriage (they were going out ot California to visit), it was pointed out that the passenger in front of them was intoxicated in some way, rude, abusive and had been bothering his children. Over the next few minutes he created incidents with other passengers in the carriage and not long after the train staff moved hm to another carriage – but he continued to be troublesome there, so the staff were able to get him off the train. That was the only incident in what will eventually total not much under 10 000 miles of travel in less than three weeks.
I got to chatting with the family – Greg had been in the Navy for five years, and his father had been in the USAF, but neither had got him to Australia, though he would love to visit. I then tried some puzzles on the children, but they were a little too young to manage them. At this stage the train conductor came back to get some witness statements, as his supervisor wanted all details fully documented. We were all only to glad to support him, but I couldn’t help as I have no permanent address here.
Back in my seat, it wasn’t that long before the Border Patrol came along to check if we were who we were supposed to be and entitled to be both on the train and in the US. I found the process quick and simple, simply having my passport ready with the ID page and the US visa page open for them. They were very polite and the whole procedure took only a few seconds. I think mutual respect – they have a job to do and as a visitor I have a duty to do – makes the process congenial to all.
Later in the evening Bart went through some photos with me of places I had visited in the US so far, and then I went through photos of our trip to Western Australia and some of Tasmania. The scenery in both places was different, and certainly different from the general scenery I have seen so far in the States – although as noted, the desert scenery in the south-west is similar to that of the Nullabour.
At just before 1, I settled down to rest. Sleep? Well, not if past experience is an example.
Good ideas useful so far include: power board with only one adaptor,; having currency in the country I’m arriving in already; writing up blog each day; deciding not to carry any excess material (either dispose of it, keep it if small and useful, or post it home when it becomes too much to carry); using public transport (get to see far more of the city.
Bad ideas include not having enough pockets, but next time I will alter what I carry.
The early morning wakeup call did not happen (thank goodness) so it was about 8:30 by the time I rose and went through my normal procedure. I had noticed an express checkout slip under my door, and as I had not incurred any extra charges (as far as I knew), I chose that option. A quick call to the front desk verified that and I was off.
The subway station was at the corner of the block (ten metres from the front door), but the line to Penn Station was a longer walk – but still within the same area, and all underground. It was a quick trip to the station and there I deposited my luggage (backpack and suitcase) so I could walk around unencumbered.
When I walked out I found I was at the main entrance to the station – at Madison Square – so I walked down 32nd to Broadway and decided to walk it, looking at the sights along the way, seeing if I could get a SIM card and also get some breakfast. The first thing that got to me was the lack of traffic – perhaps it was just where I was, but there wasn’t much at all. The second thing was that about half the traffic was New York taxis; a further quarter was commercial traffic and less than a quarter were private vehicles (I know it doesn’t totally add up, but private limousines and hire cars accounted for the difference). The second thing was the amount of sidewalk covered over by scaffolding because of either building or renovation above. The third thing was the number of small shops located on the first floor (our ground) of almost every building. Not only were there so many of them, but they looked to be poorly patronised. The fourth (and last) thing was the sheer number and variety of street vendors (all licenced and wearing their tags). Here I couldn’t resist a bargain, and at five T-shirts for $10, I promised I would buy some on the way back. Just after that I found my first place where I could get a SIM card. The person fitting it assured me I didn’t need a PIN (I hope that’s correct) and made sure it worked (1-347-659-8149 from within the US, 0011 1 347 659 8149 from Australia and ? from elsewhere). One task down and one to go. As I progressed further south hunger and thirst overcame good judgement, so McDonalds came to the fore again. An interesting sign in every store I saw was a time limit of 20 minutes for consuming food and no loitering if you don’t buy food. The toilets were usually locked. Twenty-five minutes later I left, fortunately not evicted or arrested. I was at Union Square, so I photographed that and other places on the way back. By this stage walking was beginning to pall, as was seeing more and more of the same. At one traffic light I commented to German tourists that it was only visitors to New York who obeyed the “Don’t Walk” signs – they agreed, and just to reinforce it, a traffic policeman walked against the red, with a phalanx of natives beside and behind him. Oh to see a Melbourne Victoria Police officer handing out tickets for walking against the red!
I got back to the T-shirt vendor, who recognised me but had his wares covered because it was showering. He quickly uncovered them and I bought five shirts of varying sizes. He knew that Heath ledger had died, but little else of Australia. The only problem with detailing that is my nephews will know how little I spent on the things that will be arriving in Adelaide as soon as I get to a Post Office and can send them over (remember, it’s the thought that counts and the postage will probably bring them up to Australian retail).
Back at Penn Station I looked for somewhere to sit. You have to produce your ticket to sit in the waiting lounge, so I did so and was sat next to by a lady from New York who was off to Washington for a funeral. Discussing my views so far of New York, she agreed that the subways were dirty, New Yorkers rude and not inclined to obey directions and that the population and size were large. Just before she went, we parted and she said she was going to enjoy the funeral – the celebration afterwards would be too good to miss!
I got a drink and had that, read the complimentary New York Post (which was being handed out free) – the style seemed like something out of an old movie and definitely did not make me want to buy the full edition – and did the Sudoku to keep my mind active, lest it atrophy from too much writing and not enough thinking. I messaged Fran with my new SIM (didn’t call as she is fifteen and a half hours ahead, which would make it about 5:30 a.m.) and tried to call Peggy in Arizona, but now answer (so I don’t know if I called correctly and she just wasn’t I, or whether I was using a wrong number).
I picked up my luggage from the Parcel Check, waited a few minutes more, and then at 3:40 boarded the train. This time it was just show the ticket (push the passport out of the way) and down. So I boarded Train 49, the Lake Shore Limited, for Chicago.
Here I was fortunate enough to meet a local from Chicago, Bart, who was able to explain the easiest way to get to the hotel I am booked into (and knew of it, Essex on Michigan). He also sat on the opposite window seat so, if there were interesting sights, we would be able to move seats and I could see them. This reinforced my view of the friendliness of Americans, certainly common to all I have met. Before we left the station Bart pointed out a relic of the past grandeur of the Pennsylvania Railroad Station in New York – a finely crafted bronze handrail, contrasting with the current utilitarian steel. Within a few minutes he was pointing out the Hudson River, so we sat together and introduced each other to many aspects of our respective countries.
This car we are in (all travelling through to Chicago) has power sockets, but only one to each pair of seats, so I can’t recharge the mobile or iPod at the same time as using the laptop. Bart headed off to dinner (at the first, 5:30 call) while I blogged valiantly on.
Two girls further down the car had picked on My accent and when I heard the word “Australian”, I headed back and spoke to them. It turned out that Lauren had studied in Australia at Melbourne University in 2006 and done some travelling, including up to Cairns and down to Phillip Island, the Grampians and the Great Ocean Road. We spoke about many of the differences, in food, culture and sport, and she became quite moved and expressed a strong desire to return to visit soon. I detailed my future trips, both for this section and for the next half, and got some hints. The two girls are going to Seattle to house-sit for Lauren’s grandparents and I referred to the now notorious “Corey” party in Melbourne and hoped they didn’t do the same. After giving them my photo address on Flickr, I returned to do some more writing.
Not long after I came across my first unsavoury incident on trains. Talking to a father of youug children while waiting at the end of the carriage (they were going out ot California to visit), it was pointed out that the passenger in front of them was intoxicated in some way, rude, abusive and had been bothering his children. Over the next few minutes he created incidents with other passengers in the carriage and not long after the train staff moved hm to another carriage – but he continued to be troublesome there, so the staff were able to get him off the train. That was the only incident in what will eventually total not much under 10 000 miles of travel in less than three weeks.
I got to chatting with the family – Greg had been in the Navy for five years, and his father had been in the USAF, but neither had got him to Australia, though he would love to visit. I then tried some puzzles on the children, but they were a little too young to manage them. At this stage the train conductor came back to get some witness statements, as his supervisor wanted all details fully documented. We were all only to glad to support him, but I couldn’t help as I have no permanent address here.
Back in my seat, it wasn’t that long before the Border Patrol came along to check if we were who we were supposed to be and entitled to be both on the train and in the US. I found the process quick and simple, simply having my passport ready with the ID page and the US visa page open for them. They were very polite and the whole procedure took only a few seconds. I think mutual respect – they have a job to do and as a visitor I have a duty to do – makes the process congenial to all.
Later in the evening Bart went through some photos with me of places I had visited in the US so far, and then I went through photos of our trip to Western Australia and some of Tasmania. The scenery in both places was different, and certainly different from the general scenery I have seen so far in the States – although as noted, the desert scenery in the south-west is similar to that of the Nullabour.
At just before 1, I settled down to rest. Sleep? Well, not if past experience is an example.
Monday, January 28, 2008
28 January
Today the telephone woke me with a wakeup call at 5:45. This was interesting as I hadn’t asked for it, nor programmed the telephone to do it. It was annoying as I had planned to sleep in until 7:30 and now barely dozed until then. Memo – deprogram telephone tonight.
At 7:30 I arose, went through normal procedure and went out of the hotel at 8. Entering the subway at East 51st and Lexington (I’m getting the hang of this addressing) I go my daily pass. At $7 for unlimited rides until 3 a.m. the next morning, it’s good value and reduces the time wasted when boarding a subway train. I got out near the World Trade Centre and walked down to the site. Rebuilding works are underway and I saw the overall plan – to incorporate two waterfalls into a plaza as well as some natural land, but to include centres of economic activity as well (to revitalise the economy in that area). Then I took the subway back uptown a little, found a place to have breakfast (McDonalds in the US does NOT have the same level of service as it does at home – disappointing considering all the commands come from here, but seem to be ignored here) and then walked up to the Empire State Building. In my walking I passed Broadway (but not where the theatres are). At the Empire State Building (almost inconspicuous from street level because of building works), at was straight in and up – one level, then it was the ubiquitous security check. Well used to it by now, it was jacket off, jacket, camera and coins into the tray and straight through. Then I passed through what could have been taken as the world’s largest game of snakes and ladders, but in reality it was the ropes for the queues to get to the ticket window to buy a ticket and a map (I got the ticket, but the map came later). Then it was through many more queue ropes (but still straight through) and into the lift up to the 80th floor. Then out, through more queue ropes and I got my map (surrendering a ticket). Around the corner, then up another lift and I was at the observation deck. Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks were not there, but the surprising familiarity with a place I had never been to was. Inside the view was good and it was warm. Outside the view was better, and it varied from warm (in the sun and out of the wind) to cool (in the sun and the wind) and cold (out of the sun and in the wind). From up there, New York was impressive, more than anything from the way it just went on and on. At street level, the appearance really is of street canyons, as buildings are right on the sidewalk (I mean footpath, but when in New York …) and none are set back. The sheer size in not apparent, because not too many are visible at one time. Central Park showed up as a huge area, and the diversity of design of buildings was obvious. I tried to capture it on photographs, but with the sun and, at times, my trembling hands (freezing, not from the height), not all came out as I wanted. After a good look I headed down. NO QUEUES!
At this stage I went back to the World Trades Centre and visited the Tribute WTC Visitor Centre. Although it had an entrance fee, the proceeds go to those still affected by it, so I was more than willing to pay.
I had some inside views into the tragedy as I was on an Apple Discussion Site when it happened and saw the comments made by some who were watching it out of their windows at home or had been going to work near or at there and had returned home. Within a few hours they were posting additional comments and many photographs taken from there. We all shared the pain.
I didn’t know how it would affect me, but it did – the mementos there, ordinary objects, loaned by family members to show others what the effects were, were extremely moving. The others there read, watched the videos, listened to comments through headphones or generally in some way paid homage to those who died. Seeing the building work outside somehow seemed to be right after that, while before it seemed irreverent.
I walked down Broadway to the Battery. On the sidewalk were plaques every few metres listing the tickertape parades which had been held. I think I must have been the only one reading them, for other tourists and the locals just walked around me and wondered if I had gone mad, stopping so often. At the Battery, things seemed familiar but Popeye Doyle (AKA Gene Hackman) wasn’t there. They seemed smaller though, as was repeated a number of times when viewing things through the movie-maker’s lens has made many things far larger than they are in real life.
Here I purchased my ticket for the Liberty Island / Ellis Island / Battery trip. Here, however, security was tighter. My belt, passport carrier, watch, pocket contents; all had to go out. At this stage I met up with Spencer, from Boston. He had been in New York on business, but had a little spare time, so was going to see these landmarks. We rued the need for such security, then set off on the ferry. On the river (or is it more properly New York Bay?) the view of the city was spectacular – and matched once we were on Liberty Island. But then we had to go through more security. This time any laptops weren’t permitted through (even though they had passed screening before), so they had to be stored in lockers. The lockers were fingerprint coded – you paid the rent, pressed your finger on a reader, then had it confirmed by another press, then got your locker allocated (don’t know what happened if you forgot). Then in the search area, we had to divest as before, but also got “blown” over; and after a minute or so, were cleared. Even with all this, we could only go to the base of the statue. Again the size seemed smaller than expected, but looking up from outside, and seeing moulds inside the base, its size was quickly realised. We caught the ferry to Ellis Island and parted, as Spencer had to meet friends soon, while I was going to take a long look around. There was a free tour by the National Parks Service, and I have already found these are very informative and extremely worthwhile. The guide who went through everything had his grandfather pass through Ellis Island. Afterward I found out that of the four children, who were orphaned soon after arriving, both the youngest brother and the sister died as children, while the older brother took the guide’s grandfather out of the orphanage as soon as he was 16 and had a job to support them both.
Then it was back on the 5:15 ferry to the Battery and onto the subway. The train I caught, I found out, was express past my station, so I got off at East 59th and Lexington and walked my way back ot the hotel. On the way I spied an “Outback Steakhouse” and decided to eat there, for the novelty value, to have a full meal for a change and to experience it so I could comment on the authenticity for people I meet.
The steak was good – well, well done and good size. The vegetables were normal. The beer, Fosters, tasted quite different – perhaps more malt than I am used to. The price was considerably higher than in the local RSL at home (but $2.15 would be very cheap for an “imported” beer here). The meal cost was about the same as at a middle-class restaurant – higher than a club or pub, but lower than a South Yarra restaurant. Liberties were taken with names on the menu, and the reply from the staff was. “You’re welcome” when I longed to hear, “She’s right” or just, “OK”.
Walking to there, a woman in front dropped her glove. I picked it up and returned it, and she said, “Thank you”. I said, “She’s right” and then said, “I guess you can pick I’m not from the States because of my reply.” She said, “You can tell I’m not from New York because I said thank you.” I guess New Yorkers must have a reputation for brusqueness, though from my experience it is not warranted.
Back at the hotel I couldn’t deprogram the wake-up call, then found that the facility has to be set manually. Hopefully I can sleep in a little tomorrow, on my last day in New York.
At 7:30 I arose, went through normal procedure and went out of the hotel at 8. Entering the subway at East 51st and Lexington (I’m getting the hang of this addressing) I go my daily pass. At $7 for unlimited rides until 3 a.m. the next morning, it’s good value and reduces the time wasted when boarding a subway train. I got out near the World Trade Centre and walked down to the site. Rebuilding works are underway and I saw the overall plan – to incorporate two waterfalls into a plaza as well as some natural land, but to include centres of economic activity as well (to revitalise the economy in that area). Then I took the subway back uptown a little, found a place to have breakfast (McDonalds in the US does NOT have the same level of service as it does at home – disappointing considering all the commands come from here, but seem to be ignored here) and then walked up to the Empire State Building. In my walking I passed Broadway (but not where the theatres are). At the Empire State Building (almost inconspicuous from street level because of building works), at was straight in and up – one level, then it was the ubiquitous security check. Well used to it by now, it was jacket off, jacket, camera and coins into the tray and straight through. Then I passed through what could have been taken as the world’s largest game of snakes and ladders, but in reality it was the ropes for the queues to get to the ticket window to buy a ticket and a map (I got the ticket, but the map came later). Then it was through many more queue ropes (but still straight through) and into the lift up to the 80th floor. Then out, through more queue ropes and I got my map (surrendering a ticket). Around the corner, then up another lift and I was at the observation deck. Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks were not there, but the surprising familiarity with a place I had never been to was. Inside the view was good and it was warm. Outside the view was better, and it varied from warm (in the sun and out of the wind) to cool (in the sun and the wind) and cold (out of the sun and in the wind). From up there, New York was impressive, more than anything from the way it just went on and on. At street level, the appearance really is of street canyons, as buildings are right on the sidewalk (I mean footpath, but when in New York …) and none are set back. The sheer size in not apparent, because not too many are visible at one time. Central Park showed up as a huge area, and the diversity of design of buildings was obvious. I tried to capture it on photographs, but with the sun and, at times, my trembling hands (freezing, not from the height), not all came out as I wanted. After a good look I headed down. NO QUEUES!
At this stage I went back to the World Trades Centre and visited the Tribute WTC Visitor Centre. Although it had an entrance fee, the proceeds go to those still affected by it, so I was more than willing to pay.
I had some inside views into the tragedy as I was on an Apple Discussion Site when it happened and saw the comments made by some who were watching it out of their windows at home or had been going to work near or at there and had returned home. Within a few hours they were posting additional comments and many photographs taken from there. We all shared the pain.
I didn’t know how it would affect me, but it did – the mementos there, ordinary objects, loaned by family members to show others what the effects were, were extremely moving. The others there read, watched the videos, listened to comments through headphones or generally in some way paid homage to those who died. Seeing the building work outside somehow seemed to be right after that, while before it seemed irreverent.
I walked down Broadway to the Battery. On the sidewalk were plaques every few metres listing the tickertape parades which had been held. I think I must have been the only one reading them, for other tourists and the locals just walked around me and wondered if I had gone mad, stopping so often. At the Battery, things seemed familiar but Popeye Doyle (AKA Gene Hackman) wasn’t there. They seemed smaller though, as was repeated a number of times when viewing things through the movie-maker’s lens has made many things far larger than they are in real life.
Here I purchased my ticket for the Liberty Island / Ellis Island / Battery trip. Here, however, security was tighter. My belt, passport carrier, watch, pocket contents; all had to go out. At this stage I met up with Spencer, from Boston. He had been in New York on business, but had a little spare time, so was going to see these landmarks. We rued the need for such security, then set off on the ferry. On the river (or is it more properly New York Bay?) the view of the city was spectacular – and matched once we were on Liberty Island. But then we had to go through more security. This time any laptops weren’t permitted through (even though they had passed screening before), so they had to be stored in lockers. The lockers were fingerprint coded – you paid the rent, pressed your finger on a reader, then had it confirmed by another press, then got your locker allocated (don’t know what happened if you forgot). Then in the search area, we had to divest as before, but also got “blown” over; and after a minute or so, were cleared. Even with all this, we could only go to the base of the statue. Again the size seemed smaller than expected, but looking up from outside, and seeing moulds inside the base, its size was quickly realised. We caught the ferry to Ellis Island and parted, as Spencer had to meet friends soon, while I was going to take a long look around. There was a free tour by the National Parks Service, and I have already found these are very informative and extremely worthwhile. The guide who went through everything had his grandfather pass through Ellis Island. Afterward I found out that of the four children, who were orphaned soon after arriving, both the youngest brother and the sister died as children, while the older brother took the guide’s grandfather out of the orphanage as soon as he was 16 and had a job to support them both.
Then it was back on the 5:15 ferry to the Battery and onto the subway. The train I caught, I found out, was express past my station, so I got off at East 59th and Lexington and walked my way back ot the hotel. On the way I spied an “Outback Steakhouse” and decided to eat there, for the novelty value, to have a full meal for a change and to experience it so I could comment on the authenticity for people I meet.
The steak was good – well, well done and good size. The vegetables were normal. The beer, Fosters, tasted quite different – perhaps more malt than I am used to. The price was considerably higher than in the local RSL at home (but $2.15 would be very cheap for an “imported” beer here). The meal cost was about the same as at a middle-class restaurant – higher than a club or pub, but lower than a South Yarra restaurant. Liberties were taken with names on the menu, and the reply from the staff was. “You’re welcome” when I longed to hear, “She’s right” or just, “OK”.
Walking to there, a woman in front dropped her glove. I picked it up and returned it, and she said, “Thank you”. I said, “She’s right” and then said, “I guess you can pick I’m not from the States because of my reply.” She said, “You can tell I’m not from New York because I said thank you.” I guess New Yorkers must have a reputation for brusqueness, though from my experience it is not warranted.
Back at the hotel I couldn’t deprogram the wake-up call, then found that the facility has to be set manually. Hopefully I can sleep in a little tomorrow, on my last day in New York.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
27 January
Today the dawn came into the sky in Washington before I emerged from bed. At 7:50 I arose and packed. This procedure comes about because I have found that occasionally when packing I panic over not being able to immediately find something and break into a sweat (always hot, never cold, and always AFTER I have had a shower. Now I pack, lay my clothes and other gear I will carry out, check that everything is present (and none lost, for if I don’t leave anything I must have it, even if it is not immediately obvious) and then perform my ablutions.
Consequently at 8:30 I settled my account and left my home of three days, the Days Inn, at 4400 Connecticut Avenue NW Washington. I can recommend it, for the value for money and the staff. I then realized that I would have to cross Connecticut Avenue, for although there was a Metro entrance on each side, the one on the same side as the hotel had steps down and an escalator up. The other side had escalators down and up, far easier now I was back with my backpack and my suitcase. Seasoned Metro traveller I was, I got my single trip off-peak ticket and, after a short wait, was whisked off to Union Station.
Here again the forces of commonsense had been defeated and there were five steps up to the station concourse from the Metro area. I rued the fact with a fellow traveller, and then we discovered we were both heading to New York on the 10:20 Amtrak service. I went to have a late breakfast at McDonalds and, true to form now, found they had listed, soft drinks, not soda. All my preconceptions about differences in language were being demolished one by one. At this stage of course, despite all preparations made in detail, I couldn’t find the address and reservation number for the hotel I was staying in in New York. Out came the computer and I brought up the web site I had saved and wrote down the address and booking number. When I got to the waiting lounge, I found my fellow traveller already ensconced and we chatted. At about 10, we were called for boarding and I had all my ID and everything ready. We were only asked to show our tickets and, after the security of the last few days, my flabber was well and truly gasted. We boarded and sat together and so I met Max, semi-retired, from San Antonio. During our conversation about my travels, Max gave me his card and offered to show me around San Antonio. Again, like with all the others I have met, we found we had many things in common. Our coach-class carriage had power sockets, so I plugged my laptop in and inflicted Max with photos I had taken since arriving here (I must make up a little slideshow of Australian photos so I can torture other unsuspecting friendly people along the way). After he had been beaten into submission, he retired to program his new mobile phone while I returned to taking photographs along the way. The train stopped a number of times with electrical problems so were did not meet our scheduled 1:20 arrival time. As we crossed the river. I asked two girls about the arrival time and how we arrived and another passenger heard me say “Australia” and he told me he is studying at Melbourne University this semester. I tried to give him a picture of Melbourne and its proximity to the University and all things peculiarly Australian, but the available time frame of five minutes defeated me. Just before 3 the train pulled in and we left it and Max and I, both strangers in a stranger city, went to find out what each of us respectively could do to do to find our ways. A less than helpful Amtrak Information officer sent us to a far more helpful New York City Information Desk. Here we both got useful information and I met a fellow Australian who was going to nearly the same place I was. Max headed off successfully in his direction.
We headed off for the East Line on the subway and I was able to get us both tickets, having worked out that the machines were not too different from the Metro machines. As we waited, I found out Miki had just come back from Europe and lived in Sydney and was from Dubbo. I got hints on how to best see the Open Plains Zoo there, as I was explaining to her about the lions and how you can photograph family or friends within a few centimetres of a lion there.
We boarded our train, got off at the correct station and lugged our cases up steps only to find out at the top that we could have taken an elevator (lift – see, I’m becoming used to the American terms already!). We headed off in different directions only to end up both heading in the same direction again. As I speculated whether I would be able to find the hotel, I looked up and there it was. WE parted and I went in.
Check-in was simple and painless. I had already had the account billed to my credit card, so they only needed ID and a card impression. In the lift I found myself with a Russian, who assured me I would enjoy the TransSiberian. The room was comfortable and, unlike a tortoise, I divested myself of my backpack and suitcase. After a little familiarisation, I was out.
The first order of business was to get a charger for the iPod (let me not forget anything so vital next time). There was a STAPLES over the intersection so I could get that easily. I then discovered that there was a subway station right outside the hotel (memo to self – catch the subway there at Lexington and East 51st to get to the station to catch the train to Chicago).
As it was now after 4, I determined that being in New York was a walk in the park and so I should – up 51st to Fifth Avenue, make a right and in a few minutes I was there. It was so familiar from everything I had seen on TV and in films, so I felt at home. I wandered along and through, past the Zoo and the lake and up to the reservoir after passing the back of the Metropolitan Museum. It was starting to get dark, so I decided that any city after dark, on foot, was not a good idea unless you are a native of the area. I headed back along Fifth Avenue, from a street in the 80s back to 51st. During that walk I found that the most useless sing in the world was the red “Do not cross” sign at intersections – New Yorkers don’t even look to see what the sign says’ they just cross if they can’t see a car within a hundred yards.
Walking along 51st I called into a little Diner to get some food. The cook heard my accent and asked if I would like chips with the burger. He was from Puerto Rico, but had been in New York since the age of four. The chips tasted just like chips from a fish and chip shop – perhaps I should have shown him how to make potato cakes. He reinforced the warning about being about on the streets on foot after dark and rued the fact that it was so – few people make it dangerous for the majority, and most are just plain nice people.
Back at the hotel I thawed out as I typed this and got the photos ready to post. I found out that the hotel is part of the Hilton chain, so I’m contributing to Paris’ ability to be spoiled. Also, I have to go to the lobby to get free wireless Internet, but for the price I’m paying, in New York, I can’t complain.
After I go down and post this and the photos (I’ve got the system – I download the photos then start typing while that’s happening, go back and name them, then shrink them and continue typing while they process, then hopefully everything is ready when I’ve finished typing.
So ends the first half-day of two half-days and one full day. Tomorrow is the full day and I’ll see how much I can cram in.
Consequently at 8:30 I settled my account and left my home of three days, the Days Inn, at 4400 Connecticut Avenue NW Washington. I can recommend it, for the value for money and the staff. I then realized that I would have to cross Connecticut Avenue, for although there was a Metro entrance on each side, the one on the same side as the hotel had steps down and an escalator up. The other side had escalators down and up, far easier now I was back with my backpack and my suitcase. Seasoned Metro traveller I was, I got my single trip off-peak ticket and, after a short wait, was whisked off to Union Station.
Here again the forces of commonsense had been defeated and there were five steps up to the station concourse from the Metro area. I rued the fact with a fellow traveller, and then we discovered we were both heading to New York on the 10:20 Amtrak service. I went to have a late breakfast at McDonalds and, true to form now, found they had listed, soft drinks, not soda. All my preconceptions about differences in language were being demolished one by one. At this stage of course, despite all preparations made in detail, I couldn’t find the address and reservation number for the hotel I was staying in in New York. Out came the computer and I brought up the web site I had saved and wrote down the address and booking number. When I got to the waiting lounge, I found my fellow traveller already ensconced and we chatted. At about 10, we were called for boarding and I had all my ID and everything ready. We were only asked to show our tickets and, after the security of the last few days, my flabber was well and truly gasted. We boarded and sat together and so I met Max, semi-retired, from San Antonio. During our conversation about my travels, Max gave me his card and offered to show me around San Antonio. Again, like with all the others I have met, we found we had many things in common. Our coach-class carriage had power sockets, so I plugged my laptop in and inflicted Max with photos I had taken since arriving here (I must make up a little slideshow of Australian photos so I can torture other unsuspecting friendly people along the way). After he had been beaten into submission, he retired to program his new mobile phone while I returned to taking photographs along the way. The train stopped a number of times with electrical problems so were did not meet our scheduled 1:20 arrival time. As we crossed the river. I asked two girls about the arrival time and how we arrived and another passenger heard me say “Australia” and he told me he is studying at Melbourne University this semester. I tried to give him a picture of Melbourne and its proximity to the University and all things peculiarly Australian, but the available time frame of five minutes defeated me. Just before 3 the train pulled in and we left it and Max and I, both strangers in a stranger city, went to find out what each of us respectively could do to do to find our ways. A less than helpful Amtrak Information officer sent us to a far more helpful New York City Information Desk. Here we both got useful information and I met a fellow Australian who was going to nearly the same place I was. Max headed off successfully in his direction.
We headed off for the East Line on the subway and I was able to get us both tickets, having worked out that the machines were not too different from the Metro machines. As we waited, I found out Miki had just come back from Europe and lived in Sydney and was from Dubbo. I got hints on how to best see the Open Plains Zoo there, as I was explaining to her about the lions and how you can photograph family or friends within a few centimetres of a lion there.
We boarded our train, got off at the correct station and lugged our cases up steps only to find out at the top that we could have taken an elevator (lift – see, I’m becoming used to the American terms already!). We headed off in different directions only to end up both heading in the same direction again. As I speculated whether I would be able to find the hotel, I looked up and there it was. WE parted and I went in.
Check-in was simple and painless. I had already had the account billed to my credit card, so they only needed ID and a card impression. In the lift I found myself with a Russian, who assured me I would enjoy the TransSiberian. The room was comfortable and, unlike a tortoise, I divested myself of my backpack and suitcase. After a little familiarisation, I was out.
The first order of business was to get a charger for the iPod (let me not forget anything so vital next time). There was a STAPLES over the intersection so I could get that easily. I then discovered that there was a subway station right outside the hotel (memo to self – catch the subway there at Lexington and East 51st to get to the station to catch the train to Chicago).
As it was now after 4, I determined that being in New York was a walk in the park and so I should – up 51st to Fifth Avenue, make a right and in a few minutes I was there. It was so familiar from everything I had seen on TV and in films, so I felt at home. I wandered along and through, past the Zoo and the lake and up to the reservoir after passing the back of the Metropolitan Museum. It was starting to get dark, so I decided that any city after dark, on foot, was not a good idea unless you are a native of the area. I headed back along Fifth Avenue, from a street in the 80s back to 51st. During that walk I found that the most useless sing in the world was the red “Do not cross” sign at intersections – New Yorkers don’t even look to see what the sign says’ they just cross if they can’t see a car within a hundred yards.
Walking along 51st I called into a little Diner to get some food. The cook heard my accent and asked if I would like chips with the burger. He was from Puerto Rico, but had been in New York since the age of four. The chips tasted just like chips from a fish and chip shop – perhaps I should have shown him how to make potato cakes. He reinforced the warning about being about on the streets on foot after dark and rued the fact that it was so – few people make it dangerous for the majority, and most are just plain nice people.
Back at the hotel I thawed out as I typed this and got the photos ready to post. I found out that the hotel is part of the Hilton chain, so I’m contributing to Paris’ ability to be spoiled. Also, I have to go to the lobby to get free wireless Internet, but for the price I’m paying, in New York, I can’t complain.
After I go down and post this and the photos (I’ve got the system – I download the photos then start typing while that’s happening, go back and name them, then shrink them and continue typing while they process, then hopefully everything is ready when I’ve finished typing.
So ends the first half-day of two half-days and one full day. Tomorrow is the full day and I’ll see how much I can cram in.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
26 January
I really must get a better system. After being all ready for an early night, by the time that I did the photos and wrote up my diary and then my blog, it was after midnight by the time I got to sleep. I need to get to sleep earlier because there is just so much to see and do.
I was awake at 6, up at 6:30 and then out before 7. I had breakfast out (fast food, because it’s only one door up) and was on the train in the Metro by 7:30. Dawn was just breaking and the snowfall from last week is still on parts of the ground. The wind over it is cool enough to stop it from melting. I went off to the White House. On foot it is easy to view from over the font lawn. I elbowed the tourist aside to get a good photo (yes, at that time there was only one other tourist there, and given the temperature, not even the police on duty wanted to be there). I asked for directions back to the Mall (the street, not the shopping area, for those of you who are still young enough to want to spend someone else’s money) and was given the street directions to walk along. However, being a good Aussie, I just took the shortcut across the lawns. I can’t have violated too many ordinances as they didn’t come after me with guns drawn!
I wandered down the Mall wanting to see a few things before they became crowded and, as I saw the Capitol building in front of me, it seemed a good idea to visit the Library of Congress (where one edition of every published book is reputed to be stored. However I got waylaid by yet another Park Ranger who assumed that, because I was walking past Congress, I wanted to visit it. I was duly given my ticket for the 9:30 tour, so waited and chatted with two men from Ireland (who picked my accent, but admitted they only did so because they had just been to Sydney recently). We swapped tales of what it was like visiting the US and then, in what seemed like a moment (because it actually was) we were off. Firstly we had to form a, yes, you’re correct, a queue. This queue had to be on the left (but only this time – each other queue we had to form was on the right). We were told the regulations for visiting, including the prohibited items (pistols and explosives topped the list, but fortunately no-one had any) and then we set off for the mandatory screening. This time, even with my jacket off, change out of my pocket and camera separate, I set the detector off. An earnest young police officer duly swept me with a wand and pronounced me okay. As I gathered all my belongings together, I told him about the time at Heathrow (in 1980) where I had done the same and the officers there had walked me towards a door and tripped me so they could frisk-search me while I had my hands out. He thought that was too severe a course of action, but that that time the British security forces had experience of many years dealing with the IRA and too many fatal incidents had occurred. I was not upset by it then (or now) as it showed me I was travelling safely.
We then headed out (with me in the lead, a fatal flaw as shown by giving directions in terms of “turn left, then turn right, and when you reach the blue flag, turn right.” Those of you who know me well know my dyslexia exhibits itself by not being able to distinguish left from right or anything similar which involves mirror images (such as printing b and d, or p and q, which is why I prefer to write rather that print). However by interrogating the police at each possible turning point, I eventually got to the right spot. Once inside the Capitol Building we queued (but two queues this time, just to stop us getting too complacent) and met our guide. She, Zona, was Russian. The irony of being shown over the US Parliament by a Russian guide brought a smile to my face but was lost on her. When I am in Russia later this year, I doubt I will be shown over the Kremlin by an American guide.
The tour inside was interesting, going through the major features and the development of the current building, the operation of the houses and the relationship between the legislature, the judiciary and the executive arms of government. The difference between the US and Australian models was made quite clear – there will be no dissolution of the Houses by decree in the US as there can be in Australia, but we cannot impeach our Prime Minister (or at least, if we can, it hasn’t been done). We didn’t get to see the actual chambers (not shown on weekends) but finished in the crypt and the old Supreme Court chambers.
As we left, I engaged a young policeman in discussion. He picked me as English (yuk!) and commented that our use of language, in words such as fortnight, was antique English, unlike the evolved US English. I would differ, but I wanted to make sure of my facts first. He had no knowledge of Australia’s geography or climate, a situation I am finding extremely common (unless they have actually been to Australia). I headed away to go to the Museum of the Native American Indian, but got waylaid by the United States Botanical Building. This side trip was interesting, as they had sections of the building simulating different climates and areas. The flowers particularly interested me, as you’ll see in the pictures. The building had many explanatory displays and a lot of hands-on areas, especially for children up to the age of 99. I finally got into the Museum of the Native American Indian and opted for going up to the fourth floor and heading down to the first (US terminology, which I found was not adhered to in another museum just down the Mall).
The displays wandered around, which lead to a confusing path but a rewarding one. The Indians were truly American, and information covered the far north to the far south (of South America). It proved interesting and provided parallels with Dreamtime interpretations. I somehow found myself in discussion with George and Dawn, father and daughter, from Texas and Washington respectively. George has retired and, when in Washington, Dawn shows him around and also gets to see more of Washington herself. She is a Court Stenographer. During our discussion we got onto cell phones, where a student gained notoriety for ringing (FROM CLASS) to the Snow Supervisor to complain that school was still on while snow was falling. He got his wife, who then proceeded to tell the student what she thought of him doing this. The conversation was recorded and the supervisor’s wife had to apologise after this hit national news (must have been a slow news month!). The conversation wandered into many areas and I am convinced that real people the world over know what need to be done and how to do it, but not one politician in any country knows either. We called it quits after I heard that in a courtroom, a gun was checked for safekeeping after screening, but faces became red when it was found the owner was a criminal who was repeatedly coming up on charges (and the police were keeping his gun safe for him). On the next level a man form New Orleans was photographing his lady friend as a silhouette against a prismatic display. The teacher in me came out as I explained how it worked and how all rainbows were double rainbows. After the physics lesson, we went on to geography as I went through the location and weather of different parts of Australia.
Then it was on to the Museum of Natural History. I couldn’t help myself and went to the exhibit on Australia and ended up explaining some of the display boards to people going past. Then the child in me came out and I went to see the dinosaurs. The skeletons looked large, but clothed in flesh and mobile they would have been huge and menacing. I’m glad I’m not quite as old as some of my students believe I am, otherwise the dinosaurs and I would have shared the world stage (but not for too long, as I would soon have been a belch rather than a memory).
I decided to see the Hope Diamond. Security was evident but not excessive and all us hopefuls were only tens of centimetres from it. I noticed some women comparing their rings with it, while others were estimating what setting they would have it put it before it adorned their finger rather than the necklace it is currently in.
I returned to the Metro and decided to play the tourist a little further and visit the Pentagon. The station is right outside, but photos are discouraged, so I don’t have any. Discretion is the better part of valour. However I did see more advertisements in the station – anyone after a strike fighter? I didn’t realise the average person would be able to buy one, let alone afford one.
By this stage, 5 p.m., I decided to have lunch, then retire to my room as it was already getting dark. I have written this up so I can get to sleep earlier. I just have to do the photos.
And so the seventh day ends and I rest.
I was awake at 6, up at 6:30 and then out before 7. I had breakfast out (fast food, because it’s only one door up) and was on the train in the Metro by 7:30. Dawn was just breaking and the snowfall from last week is still on parts of the ground. The wind over it is cool enough to stop it from melting. I went off to the White House. On foot it is easy to view from over the font lawn. I elbowed the tourist aside to get a good photo (yes, at that time there was only one other tourist there, and given the temperature, not even the police on duty wanted to be there). I asked for directions back to the Mall (the street, not the shopping area, for those of you who are still young enough to want to spend someone else’s money) and was given the street directions to walk along. However, being a good Aussie, I just took the shortcut across the lawns. I can’t have violated too many ordinances as they didn’t come after me with guns drawn!
I wandered down the Mall wanting to see a few things before they became crowded and, as I saw the Capitol building in front of me, it seemed a good idea to visit the Library of Congress (where one edition of every published book is reputed to be stored. However I got waylaid by yet another Park Ranger who assumed that, because I was walking past Congress, I wanted to visit it. I was duly given my ticket for the 9:30 tour, so waited and chatted with two men from Ireland (who picked my accent, but admitted they only did so because they had just been to Sydney recently). We swapped tales of what it was like visiting the US and then, in what seemed like a moment (because it actually was) we were off. Firstly we had to form a, yes, you’re correct, a queue. This queue had to be on the left (but only this time – each other queue we had to form was on the right). We were told the regulations for visiting, including the prohibited items (pistols and explosives topped the list, but fortunately no-one had any) and then we set off for the mandatory screening. This time, even with my jacket off, change out of my pocket and camera separate, I set the detector off. An earnest young police officer duly swept me with a wand and pronounced me okay. As I gathered all my belongings together, I told him about the time at Heathrow (in 1980) where I had done the same and the officers there had walked me towards a door and tripped me so they could frisk-search me while I had my hands out. He thought that was too severe a course of action, but that that time the British security forces had experience of many years dealing with the IRA and too many fatal incidents had occurred. I was not upset by it then (or now) as it showed me I was travelling safely.
We then headed out (with me in the lead, a fatal flaw as shown by giving directions in terms of “turn left, then turn right, and when you reach the blue flag, turn right.” Those of you who know me well know my dyslexia exhibits itself by not being able to distinguish left from right or anything similar which involves mirror images (such as printing b and d, or p and q, which is why I prefer to write rather that print). However by interrogating the police at each possible turning point, I eventually got to the right spot. Once inside the Capitol Building we queued (but two queues this time, just to stop us getting too complacent) and met our guide. She, Zona, was Russian. The irony of being shown over the US Parliament by a Russian guide brought a smile to my face but was lost on her. When I am in Russia later this year, I doubt I will be shown over the Kremlin by an American guide.
The tour inside was interesting, going through the major features and the development of the current building, the operation of the houses and the relationship between the legislature, the judiciary and the executive arms of government. The difference between the US and Australian models was made quite clear – there will be no dissolution of the Houses by decree in the US as there can be in Australia, but we cannot impeach our Prime Minister (or at least, if we can, it hasn’t been done). We didn’t get to see the actual chambers (not shown on weekends) but finished in the crypt and the old Supreme Court chambers.
As we left, I engaged a young policeman in discussion. He picked me as English (yuk!) and commented that our use of language, in words such as fortnight, was antique English, unlike the evolved US English. I would differ, but I wanted to make sure of my facts first. He had no knowledge of Australia’s geography or climate, a situation I am finding extremely common (unless they have actually been to Australia). I headed away to go to the Museum of the Native American Indian, but got waylaid by the United States Botanical Building. This side trip was interesting, as they had sections of the building simulating different climates and areas. The flowers particularly interested me, as you’ll see in the pictures. The building had many explanatory displays and a lot of hands-on areas, especially for children up to the age of 99. I finally got into the Museum of the Native American Indian and opted for going up to the fourth floor and heading down to the first (US terminology, which I found was not adhered to in another museum just down the Mall).
The displays wandered around, which lead to a confusing path but a rewarding one. The Indians were truly American, and information covered the far north to the far south (of South America). It proved interesting and provided parallels with Dreamtime interpretations. I somehow found myself in discussion with George and Dawn, father and daughter, from Texas and Washington respectively. George has retired and, when in Washington, Dawn shows him around and also gets to see more of Washington herself. She is a Court Stenographer. During our discussion we got onto cell phones, where a student gained notoriety for ringing (FROM CLASS) to the Snow Supervisor to complain that school was still on while snow was falling. He got his wife, who then proceeded to tell the student what she thought of him doing this. The conversation was recorded and the supervisor’s wife had to apologise after this hit national news (must have been a slow news month!). The conversation wandered into many areas and I am convinced that real people the world over know what need to be done and how to do it, but not one politician in any country knows either. We called it quits after I heard that in a courtroom, a gun was checked for safekeeping after screening, but faces became red when it was found the owner was a criminal who was repeatedly coming up on charges (and the police were keeping his gun safe for him). On the next level a man form New Orleans was photographing his lady friend as a silhouette against a prismatic display. The teacher in me came out as I explained how it worked and how all rainbows were double rainbows. After the physics lesson, we went on to geography as I went through the location and weather of different parts of Australia.
Then it was on to the Museum of Natural History. I couldn’t help myself and went to the exhibit on Australia and ended up explaining some of the display boards to people going past. Then the child in me came out and I went to see the dinosaurs. The skeletons looked large, but clothed in flesh and mobile they would have been huge and menacing. I’m glad I’m not quite as old as some of my students believe I am, otherwise the dinosaurs and I would have shared the world stage (but not for too long, as I would soon have been a belch rather than a memory).
I decided to see the Hope Diamond. Security was evident but not excessive and all us hopefuls were only tens of centimetres from it. I noticed some women comparing their rings with it, while others were estimating what setting they would have it put it before it adorned their finger rather than the necklace it is currently in.
I returned to the Metro and decided to play the tourist a little further and visit the Pentagon. The station is right outside, but photos are discouraged, so I don’t have any. Discretion is the better part of valour. However I did see more advertisements in the station – anyone after a strike fighter? I didn’t realise the average person would be able to buy one, let alone afford one.
By this stage, 5 p.m., I decided to have lunch, then retire to my room as it was already getting dark. I have written this up so I can get to sleep earlier. I just have to do the photos.
And so the seventh day ends and I rest.
Friday, January 25, 2008
25 January
Today was the day for a sleep-in. You have to understand for me that means anything after 5:30.
So I arose at 7:30 – at least the alarm roused me and I responded. After checking my email, I listened to 3LO (that’s 774 in Melbourne for all of you born after 1950). I found myself listening to “Overnight” with Tony Delroy and that it was getting towards Australia Day. Currently I am sixteen hours behind Melbourne time (and fifteen and a half hours behind Adelaide, so I won’t ring Fran any more!).
After hearing familiar accents, I settled down to work and planned the rest of my rail trip. Two nights in New York (I’ll walk Central Park – but not at night – and take the Greeter’s Tour) will be enough (two bites at the Big Apple?) and then I’ll go to Chicago and have two nights in the Windy City (will it blow me away?) and then back to the west coast, up to Seattle and down to Los Angeles to pick up the rental car. After booking that, the Smithsonians should see my day out.
The best laid plans of mice and men gang oft away – and so did my plans. I got past JULIE and onto a real operator who, despite selling my name incorrectly, managed to get the bookings done up to the Coast Starlight. She couldn’t take my booking, despite it being off-peak – there had been a landslide and the track wasn’t to be repaired until the end of February. Alas and alack – I was destined to be marooned in Emeryville at the end of my trip through the Rockies. I called it quits there and went back to my room (I used a payphone in the lobby – my US vocabulary is growing!) and prepared for my day out. I took all essential valuables with me, so my jacket needed no padding – I was like the Michelon Man and I hadn’t even done it up.
Like the seasoned traveller I now am, I headed off to the Metro, after the 9:30 cut-off for an all-day pass, purchased it (US$7.80 from a vending machine which steadfastly refused to give more that $2 change, and for my misdemeanour of asking for more, when I used closer notes, it gave me $1.80 in change. I set off for the Smithsonians, with ID, tickets, all other essential items and a bowed back (I just HAVE to travel lighter). I dutifully changed lines and found myself sharing carriage space with a grandmother and three young children (hmm, I said to myself, the teacher coming out, “Why aren’t these children in school?”). In our ensuing conversation, I found out she was also an ex-teacher (Elementary School), these were her grandchildren, they were being homeschooled despite (or perhaps because of) having three generations of teachers in the family and they were headed to the Smithsonian Aerospace Museum. I tagged along, interrogating her at every step. I won’t put everything down, but I am following in mum’s footsteps well – except I don’t grab them by the throat; they talk willingly! At the museum, after we went through security and I set nothing off, she took the children off to a special exhibit and I waited to go on a guided tour. Our guide (German) took two Australians, one Indian, five Canadians and, oh yes, two Americans, on the walking, narrated tour. We were shown the essentials of the story of flight from the Wright Brothers first powered flight (I didn’t mention that an Australian had flown earlier, without the press present), through the developments to the landing on the moon. It was well doen and certainly worth the investment of the nearly hour and a half.
I wnet off to have my considered repast at noon, and availed myself of the convenience of the local restaurant run by those with Scots progenitors (McDonalds to all of you). Here I ran into the children and grandmother (Jessica) and we made further discussion. An appendix is below for those of you who wish to discover the intricacies of the American lexicon.
I went back through the museum quickly and photographed exhibits I thought interesting, so I could post the photos tonight. I wanted to see other Smithsonians, but decided to visit the tower at the Post Office pavilion. This was preserved from the former Post Office when enough people protested against its demolition, and provides a wonderful view over the city, as well as having bells similar to those in Westminster Abbey there (and they are rung on regular and special occasions). I had to go through security there, so after divesting myself of my camera and jacket, I proceeded on (putting them back on, of course). Like all other monuments in DC, they come under the Parks and Wildlife Service, so on departing the lift you run into the carers of Smoky the Bear in the middle of the city. The ranger went carefully and completely through what was visible, the significance and the history of each and a few anecdotes. I met a local there who was making it his business to work through all the National Park sites in the Washington area, so he would know what was around where he lived.
I wandered over to the Washington Monument fully expecting to be told to come back early the next morning. My choice of times to visit Washington was vindicated as I got a ticket for a tour in just forty minutes. I wandered over to the monument and asked one of the two security guards sunning themselves about a mall where I knew I could cash travellers cheques. They couldn’t help me, but the ranger at the monument was helpful – even with a 3 o’clock ticket (three hours of the clock, if you have ever wondered why it is written 3 o’clock – totally useless, but great trivia) I got in straight away, at about 2:40, after forming a one-man queue. Here the guard laconically said, “Form one line on the right, beginning heah”, and no-one, not even the US citizens there, knew what she meant. I went first and this time had to divest the camera, jacket and the contents of all my pockets before I got through the detector. I know now how the US has solved its unemployment problem – they are all security guards or different types of police. Then we (yes, you guessed it) queued to go up in the elevator. We got the story of how and why it was built (you’ll have to look it up if you want to know) on the way up and a magnificent view from the 500 foot level. Back on the 490 foot level (we had to walk down stairs) we had to … queue … to get back in the elevator. On the way down the lights went out and we saw all the carved stones inside the monument, varying from just writing through to ornate stonemasonry. Out of the lift I went to reclothe to face the cold and spoke to the policeman there (who was guarding a young girl who had chickened out of going up). I told her what she missed, trying to convince her not to miss what may have been the chance of a lifetime and the policeman told me how to get to the mall I was after. After giving me a map he could not refold (is this what they use in lieu of a breathalyser to find DWC [drunk when climbing]?) and refolding it successfully, I went to visit the (shopping) mall. I was able to successfully direct visitors to get tickets, so I considered myself better than some of the Park Rangers (as they had told the visitors where to get tickets, but the visitors remained puzzled).
The Metro (an example of how public transport should work) took me to the Pentagon Mall (yes, in true free enterprise fashion, you can shop near the Pentagon, but the advertisements are for things like aerial refuelling tankers, not Louis Villion gifts). I found the American Express office and cashed some travellers cheques, feeling quite safe that I would not be robbed (any thief would give up by the time I had penetrated through layers of insulation and security to get to cash, it taking over five minutes when I WANTED to get it). On the way back I got a iPod dock connector to charge my iPod (with three of them, they were all at home – note to self; remember the essential things next time) and an Australian map – so I could show people where things were in Australia (US citizens have little knowledge of Australia and certainly no real knowledge of its geography).
The Metro took me back to Union Station – along the way I ran into three Americans and we agreed that there must be an International School for station announcers, who learn to make clear and concise statements totally unintelligible. Flinders Street or Union Station at Washington, no-one can understand the announcements! I purchased my tickets for New York (US$0 with my railpass), then on to Chicago (again US$0 with my railpass) and the (currently) final leg on to Emeryville (on the Zephyr through the Rockies) – just US$448 for a sleeper for two nights (I may have to leave more than just the one arm and one leg to pay for it).
The Metro then returned me to my temporary abode. I bought a baguette for tea (I would have just called it a bread roll, but that sounds better) and picked up my laundered shirts (no grimy collars!). Then I researched and booked a bed for two nights in New York and two nights in Chicago. I hope my Internet choice will be okay. After that the camera downloaded the photos, I had a bath to relax and wrote up diaries and this blog. Soon I shall succumb to slumber, but I will have to do the pictures first. My (just) sixth day on the road had had the sun set on it.
Lexicon peculiarities:
biscuit, for a scone is Southern. In the north, a scone is a scone.
pocketbook is not universal for a handbag. Handbag is.
bathroom is not universal for a toilet. Toilet is, so I have now realised that movies and TV series do not accurately reflect language in use.
automobile is a word I have not heard – car is universally used.
Also, all the official documents I get have the date format of … dd/mm/yyyy. Now go figure that!
So I arose at 7:30 – at least the alarm roused me and I responded. After checking my email, I listened to 3LO (that’s 774 in Melbourne for all of you born after 1950). I found myself listening to “Overnight” with Tony Delroy and that it was getting towards Australia Day. Currently I am sixteen hours behind Melbourne time (and fifteen and a half hours behind Adelaide, so I won’t ring Fran any more!).
After hearing familiar accents, I settled down to work and planned the rest of my rail trip. Two nights in New York (I’ll walk Central Park – but not at night – and take the Greeter’s Tour) will be enough (two bites at the Big Apple?) and then I’ll go to Chicago and have two nights in the Windy City (will it blow me away?) and then back to the west coast, up to Seattle and down to Los Angeles to pick up the rental car. After booking that, the Smithsonians should see my day out.
The best laid plans of mice and men gang oft away – and so did my plans. I got past JULIE and onto a real operator who, despite selling my name incorrectly, managed to get the bookings done up to the Coast Starlight. She couldn’t take my booking, despite it being off-peak – there had been a landslide and the track wasn’t to be repaired until the end of February. Alas and alack – I was destined to be marooned in Emeryville at the end of my trip through the Rockies. I called it quits there and went back to my room (I used a payphone in the lobby – my US vocabulary is growing!) and prepared for my day out. I took all essential valuables with me, so my jacket needed no padding – I was like the Michelon Man and I hadn’t even done it up.
Like the seasoned traveller I now am, I headed off to the Metro, after the 9:30 cut-off for an all-day pass, purchased it (US$7.80 from a vending machine which steadfastly refused to give more that $2 change, and for my misdemeanour of asking for more, when I used closer notes, it gave me $1.80 in change. I set off for the Smithsonians, with ID, tickets, all other essential items and a bowed back (I just HAVE to travel lighter). I dutifully changed lines and found myself sharing carriage space with a grandmother and three young children (hmm, I said to myself, the teacher coming out, “Why aren’t these children in school?”). In our ensuing conversation, I found out she was also an ex-teacher (Elementary School), these were her grandchildren, they were being homeschooled despite (or perhaps because of) having three generations of teachers in the family and they were headed to the Smithsonian Aerospace Museum. I tagged along, interrogating her at every step. I won’t put everything down, but I am following in mum’s footsteps well – except I don’t grab them by the throat; they talk willingly! At the museum, after we went through security and I set nothing off, she took the children off to a special exhibit and I waited to go on a guided tour. Our guide (German) took two Australians, one Indian, five Canadians and, oh yes, two Americans, on the walking, narrated tour. We were shown the essentials of the story of flight from the Wright Brothers first powered flight (I didn’t mention that an Australian had flown earlier, without the press present), through the developments to the landing on the moon. It was well doen and certainly worth the investment of the nearly hour and a half.
I wnet off to have my considered repast at noon, and availed myself of the convenience of the local restaurant run by those with Scots progenitors (McDonalds to all of you). Here I ran into the children and grandmother (Jessica) and we made further discussion. An appendix is below for those of you who wish to discover the intricacies of the American lexicon.
I went back through the museum quickly and photographed exhibits I thought interesting, so I could post the photos tonight. I wanted to see other Smithsonians, but decided to visit the tower at the Post Office pavilion. This was preserved from the former Post Office when enough people protested against its demolition, and provides a wonderful view over the city, as well as having bells similar to those in Westminster Abbey there (and they are rung on regular and special occasions). I had to go through security there, so after divesting myself of my camera and jacket, I proceeded on (putting them back on, of course). Like all other monuments in DC, they come under the Parks and Wildlife Service, so on departing the lift you run into the carers of Smoky the Bear in the middle of the city. The ranger went carefully and completely through what was visible, the significance and the history of each and a few anecdotes. I met a local there who was making it his business to work through all the National Park sites in the Washington area, so he would know what was around where he lived.
I wandered over to the Washington Monument fully expecting to be told to come back early the next morning. My choice of times to visit Washington was vindicated as I got a ticket for a tour in just forty minutes. I wandered over to the monument and asked one of the two security guards sunning themselves about a mall where I knew I could cash travellers cheques. They couldn’t help me, but the ranger at the monument was helpful – even with a 3 o’clock ticket (three hours of the clock, if you have ever wondered why it is written 3 o’clock – totally useless, but great trivia) I got in straight away, at about 2:40, after forming a one-man queue. Here the guard laconically said, “Form one line on the right, beginning heah”, and no-one, not even the US citizens there, knew what she meant. I went first and this time had to divest the camera, jacket and the contents of all my pockets before I got through the detector. I know now how the US has solved its unemployment problem – they are all security guards or different types of police. Then we (yes, you guessed it) queued to go up in the elevator. We got the story of how and why it was built (you’ll have to look it up if you want to know) on the way up and a magnificent view from the 500 foot level. Back on the 490 foot level (we had to walk down stairs) we had to … queue … to get back in the elevator. On the way down the lights went out and we saw all the carved stones inside the monument, varying from just writing through to ornate stonemasonry. Out of the lift I went to reclothe to face the cold and spoke to the policeman there (who was guarding a young girl who had chickened out of going up). I told her what she missed, trying to convince her not to miss what may have been the chance of a lifetime and the policeman told me how to get to the mall I was after. After giving me a map he could not refold (is this what they use in lieu of a breathalyser to find DWC [drunk when climbing]?) and refolding it successfully, I went to visit the (shopping) mall. I was able to successfully direct visitors to get tickets, so I considered myself better than some of the Park Rangers (as they had told the visitors where to get tickets, but the visitors remained puzzled).
The Metro (an example of how public transport should work) took me to the Pentagon Mall (yes, in true free enterprise fashion, you can shop near the Pentagon, but the advertisements are for things like aerial refuelling tankers, not Louis Villion gifts). I found the American Express office and cashed some travellers cheques, feeling quite safe that I would not be robbed (any thief would give up by the time I had penetrated through layers of insulation and security to get to cash, it taking over five minutes when I WANTED to get it). On the way back I got a iPod dock connector to charge my iPod (with three of them, they were all at home – note to self; remember the essential things next time) and an Australian map – so I could show people where things were in Australia (US citizens have little knowledge of Australia and certainly no real knowledge of its geography).
The Metro took me back to Union Station – along the way I ran into three Americans and we agreed that there must be an International School for station announcers, who learn to make clear and concise statements totally unintelligible. Flinders Street or Union Station at Washington, no-one can understand the announcements! I purchased my tickets for New York (US$0 with my railpass), then on to Chicago (again US$0 with my railpass) and the (currently) final leg on to Emeryville (on the Zephyr through the Rockies) – just US$448 for a sleeper for two nights (I may have to leave more than just the one arm and one leg to pay for it).
The Metro then returned me to my temporary abode. I bought a baguette for tea (I would have just called it a bread roll, but that sounds better) and picked up my laundered shirts (no grimy collars!). Then I researched and booked a bed for two nights in New York and two nights in Chicago. I hope my Internet choice will be okay. After that the camera downloaded the photos, I had a bath to relax and wrote up diaries and this blog. Soon I shall succumb to slumber, but I will have to do the pictures first. My (just) sixth day on the road had had the sun set on it.
Lexicon peculiarities:
biscuit, for a scone is Southern. In the north, a scone is a scone.
pocketbook is not universal for a handbag. Handbag is.
bathroom is not universal for a toilet. Toilet is, so I have now realised that movies and TV series do not accurately reflect language in use.
automobile is a word I have not heard – car is universally used.
Also, all the official documents I get have the date format of … dd/mm/yyyy. Now go figure that!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
24 January
The morning started early, as because I couldn’t get down to sleep, our stop in Charlotte NC from 3 to 3:30 provided me with unending nothingness to look at. The sky was misty and so were my eyes. Having no room to stretch out across the two seats made things a little less comfortable. I resolved to be up and the first one at breakfast at 6:30 for my now obligatory scrambled eggs and shredded potato with bacon and scone, as I wasn’t sleeping anyway – so promptly fell asleep and didn’t wake until after 7. I was second into the dining as a consequence, and ended up having another wide-ranging discussion with a meteorologist from Alexandria VA. He had completed a course in Physics before deciding whether the weather was for him and was just returning from a conference in New Orleans where the guest, via Internet, was from Australia. His daughter was a musical director, with at least two plays currently on Broadway. He was also a ham radio operator and very interested in education – and I found out conditions in some US schools are not that different to Australian schools (lack of funding and understanding, poor teacher pay rates and even worse class accommodation). We parted after I interrogated him about possible places to stay in Washington which wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg (a pound of flesh I wouldn’t mind, especially if it was for a few nights and I could specify where on me it came from). Back in my seat I prepared for our 10 a.m. arrival in Washington DC, which became our 10:30 and eventually our 11:30 arrival. I bade farewell to Lily and, gathering all my worldly goods about me I detrained (and the weight of my worldly goods on my shoulders and arms made me wish I had less of them).
Into Washington Union station I marched, off to find the Travellers Aid location outside Platform M – the only problem being the platforms only went up to L. So I resorted to assistance from Messers Wheeler and co., and consulted my Lonely Planet guide and rang Washington Accommodation. After they finished laughing at my idea of a fair price for a night, I ended up taking the Metro to Van Ness UDC. The ticket machines are very good – once you find how to get to the Metro, and once you have had a ten-minute lesson from a local on how to use them. I found the place – Days Inn – despite being told to go in the wrong direction by a Greenpeace advocate, must likely because I refused to sign up on the spot to become a paid-up supporter and that was her way of getting back at me (actually it was her friend, who I think took the whole thing more personally than the girl who had accosted me). I checked in, got to the room and set up the computer. A loong ( as opposed to a looooong) shower say the grime of two days go down the plughole. After dressing, I took my soiled (actually, totally filthy around the collar) shirts to a laundry who offered to clean, iron and put them on a hanger for only $1.09. I figured it was cheaper than me trying to scour the filth of ages from them – I’ll find out tomorrow evening if miracles still do occur and I get them back white instead of brownish. I tried to find somewhere to repair my bum bag, but such establishments are few and far between – and where I am is the between. After a splurging meal at Burger King (which is not as good, to my taste, as Hungry Jack’s) I tackled the 100 metre walk to the metro and purchased a day ticket. I went to Arlington and on the walk into the cemetery met a couple from Wisconsin. We went on the tour and saw some sights, especially the Kennedy grave, Arlington (the house) and the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Two events made my mind recall the past. One was the marching and presenting arms – it made me fondly remember the instructors at the Officer Recruit School at RAAF Point Cook. The other was that many children who acted as crossing guards at Elementary schools were present (apparently that was their reward for the work they did voluntarily). I couldn’t stop myself and told them to move down and along – and they DID! I haven’t lost my touch.
Seeing Arlington was quite moving, as I had visited some other war cemeteries and will later visit the place where my grandfather won his medal.
It really does make you wonder if anyone can learn from previous mistakes as soldiers from over 200 years of conflicts are buried there – and more are added daily (around 25, at current rates).
There was snow on the ground and the temperature made it feel as if more will come soon. I headed back home with jacket firmly fastened and hood on to keep out Jack Frost and felt like a seasoned veteran as I flourished my card, rushed to make connecting trains and made it home in time to write these memoirs up (and reply to the odd email).
The sun had already gone down on my fifth day of travel within the US.
Into Washington Union station I marched, off to find the Travellers Aid location outside Platform M – the only problem being the platforms only went up to L. So I resorted to assistance from Messers Wheeler and co., and consulted my Lonely Planet guide and rang Washington Accommodation. After they finished laughing at my idea of a fair price for a night, I ended up taking the Metro to Van Ness UDC. The ticket machines are very good – once you find how to get to the Metro, and once you have had a ten-minute lesson from a local on how to use them. I found the place – Days Inn – despite being told to go in the wrong direction by a Greenpeace advocate, must likely because I refused to sign up on the spot to become a paid-up supporter and that was her way of getting back at me (actually it was her friend, who I think took the whole thing more personally than the girl who had accosted me). I checked in, got to the room and set up the computer. A loong ( as opposed to a looooong) shower say the grime of two days go down the plughole. After dressing, I took my soiled (actually, totally filthy around the collar) shirts to a laundry who offered to clean, iron and put them on a hanger for only $1.09. I figured it was cheaper than me trying to scour the filth of ages from them – I’ll find out tomorrow evening if miracles still do occur and I get them back white instead of brownish. I tried to find somewhere to repair my bum bag, but such establishments are few and far between – and where I am is the between. After a splurging meal at Burger King (which is not as good, to my taste, as Hungry Jack’s) I tackled the 100 metre walk to the metro and purchased a day ticket. I went to Arlington and on the walk into the cemetery met a couple from Wisconsin. We went on the tour and saw some sights, especially the Kennedy grave, Arlington (the house) and the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Two events made my mind recall the past. One was the marching and presenting arms – it made me fondly remember the instructors at the Officer Recruit School at RAAF Point Cook. The other was that many children who acted as crossing guards at Elementary schools were present (apparently that was their reward for the work they did voluntarily). I couldn’t stop myself and told them to move down and along – and they DID! I haven’t lost my touch.
Seeing Arlington was quite moving, as I had visited some other war cemeteries and will later visit the place where my grandfather won his medal.
It really does make you wonder if anyone can learn from previous mistakes as soldiers from over 200 years of conflicts are buried there – and more are added daily (around 25, at current rates).
There was snow on the ground and the temperature made it feel as if more will come soon. I headed back home with jacket firmly fastened and hood on to keep out Jack Frost and felt like a seasoned veteran as I flourished my card, rushed to make connecting trains and made it home in time to write these memoirs up (and reply to the odd email).
The sun had already gone down on my fifth day of travel within the US.
23 January
The morning of 23 January dawned – but before that I had been up, packed, showered, dressed and ensured that the room had no material of mine remaining. At the moment I am working on the assumption that as long as I leave nothing behind, I will not lose anything (I just don’t know where it is among the material I am carrying with me). I had also paid my bill – my first experience that a room rate in the US is not what you pay. You have to add other charges, state and federal taxes and room taxes. So my thought that I had scored a bargain missed the bullseye – to be truthful, it missed the entire target. However now I know that I have to add at least 11% to what I am quoted – nearly as good as GST!
Back to the story – the day had not dawned before I took a cab down to the station and got ready to board. I found Australia was not alone with immigrant drivers of taxis. Mine seemed to know the way okay, but not what the funny lights were near the roadway which changed colour meant. We managed to make it to the station in less than half the time it took to get to the hotel.
When we were called to board the Crescent, we had to … you guessed it, QUEUE! I believe Americans must have the patience of Job because it is getting to me already, and I have another thirteen or so days to go on the trains. This time, just to add variation, we had to show photo ID – in exactly the same name as the ticket. Through we went, onto the track, where we were separated into long-haul and short-haul passengers and then we (can I desist using the Q… word, because I’m nearly going to provide it with a colourful adjective?) got into separate lines to show our tickets and ID to board the train.
I had already run into Ben again. He had not slept the night as his friend wanted to show him the preparations for the Mardi Gras, so he was looking the worst for wear. Other news passed on was that some residents whose houses had been damaged by Katrina had received a government grant, but used it for other purposes and were no well and truly homeless. This has contributed to a rise in crime, but as I was asleep all night, it didn’t concern me. I had also run into the Mexican again, but we simply nodded as neither of us could understand the other.
Once on the train (only a single-decker this time, the first disappointment was no power outlets. In just three days I had become spoiled. So I had to be frugal with computer use. The second disappointment was there were more people. Nearly all the seats were occupied (but only one to a double seat, so that wasn’t too bad). Off we went.
The eye-opener were the houses next to Lake Pontchatrain; they were ALL at least two to three metres below the water level. Although the levee bank was obviously between them and the water, to me it showed a faith which I could never hold. The size of the lake was also an eye-opener. I gawked at it as we went past, but everyone else took it as read.
When we were able to go up for breakfast (we set off before 7), I was seated with Joan, a lady from Atlanta who had four children and had sensibly ensured that when they married and set up house, they did so at all points of the compass. She was able to spend much time commuting between their houses, spoil the grandchildren and have a wonderful time before going back to her home when the weather there was clement. The conversation moved to money, I showed her mine ($5 and $50) and she admired the look and feel. A family immediately behind her had a young girl who overheard and was fascinated with the “plaaaastique” money with the Queen of England on it.. She just had to get mum to take a photo of her holding the notes. Her little sister joined in, but despite mum’s protestations, held the notes over her face. Now there will be a photo to embarrass her at a 21st or a wedding! Ray, the travelling website writer, came down at this point and gave me his card. HE declined to be photographed with Australian notes.
After a little more discussion, during which we agreed that if we were both leaders of our respective nations, we could solve the world’s problems, we parted. Back in the carriage, things were definitely quieter than they had been the day before – after all, we were nearly all new to each other.
The scenery was of spindly, bald trees. There was also ivy, which Joan said had been imported from Russia to help bind banks of creeks to stop erosion – and like every other good biological idea, it was disastrous in application. The ivy had become a weed and all efforts were being made to eradicate it (to no effect). The group who did that should be condemned to talk with those who thought rabbits and cane toads were a good idea.
At Hattiesburg MS, a few got off but a few got on. One was a young lady, Ruth, who got herself into trouble by bringing on more luggage than allowed. For this heinous sin, the conductor berated her soundly (but let her keep them). She rolled her eyes and I said, “Don’t worry!” So we struck up a conversation and, after plastic money, we got down to how little she knew about Australia. I showed her some pictures on my laptop and she, being an Arts/Architecture double major, brought her laptop out and explained the troubles she was having opening files. Feeling like I was back at work, I ran through possible solutions – and showed her them in Windows on my Mac. She was amazed, especially that I didn’t have to shut down to start Windows. This information she will pass on to her friend who has a … taa dah dah … Mac! She got off in Birmingham AL and I watched the scenery go by and read another book given to me by a fellow passenger. This book was not as interesting as the last, so I kept dozing off and dropping the book. What kept me awake was the magnificence of the Southern Baptist churches. At first I thought they were large estates, or even high-class hotels – but they were churches. The strikingness of their appearance was made more noticeable by the counterpoint against the poverty evident in the houses around them. When we reached Atlanta GA, my Mexican acquaintance got off to visit his daughter. Then the masses came on! Nearly every seat was going to be occupied, so I lost my “spread space”. Lily, from Philadelphia, sat next to me – she had five children, but four living now, thirteen grandchildren and seventeen great-grandchildren. She had retired from working in a laundry business and now generally helped out looking after the grand (and great-grand) children.
Now, with the carriage nearly fill and picking up more each stop, the study in humanity and the fact that they made a continuous line to the toilet meant I didn’t get much sleep.
Back to the story – the day had not dawned before I took a cab down to the station and got ready to board. I found Australia was not alone with immigrant drivers of taxis. Mine seemed to know the way okay, but not what the funny lights were near the roadway which changed colour meant. We managed to make it to the station in less than half the time it took to get to the hotel.
When we were called to board the Crescent, we had to … you guessed it, QUEUE! I believe Americans must have the patience of Job because it is getting to me already, and I have another thirteen or so days to go on the trains. This time, just to add variation, we had to show photo ID – in exactly the same name as the ticket. Through we went, onto the track, where we were separated into long-haul and short-haul passengers and then we (can I desist using the Q… word, because I’m nearly going to provide it with a colourful adjective?) got into separate lines to show our tickets and ID to board the train.
I had already run into Ben again. He had not slept the night as his friend wanted to show him the preparations for the Mardi Gras, so he was looking the worst for wear. Other news passed on was that some residents whose houses had been damaged by Katrina had received a government grant, but used it for other purposes and were no well and truly homeless. This has contributed to a rise in crime, but as I was asleep all night, it didn’t concern me. I had also run into the Mexican again, but we simply nodded as neither of us could understand the other.
Once on the train (only a single-decker this time, the first disappointment was no power outlets. In just three days I had become spoiled. So I had to be frugal with computer use. The second disappointment was there were more people. Nearly all the seats were occupied (but only one to a double seat, so that wasn’t too bad). Off we went.
The eye-opener were the houses next to Lake Pontchatrain; they were ALL at least two to three metres below the water level. Although the levee bank was obviously between them and the water, to me it showed a faith which I could never hold. The size of the lake was also an eye-opener. I gawked at it as we went past, but everyone else took it as read.
When we were able to go up for breakfast (we set off before 7), I was seated with Joan, a lady from Atlanta who had four children and had sensibly ensured that when they married and set up house, they did so at all points of the compass. She was able to spend much time commuting between their houses, spoil the grandchildren and have a wonderful time before going back to her home when the weather there was clement. The conversation moved to money, I showed her mine ($5 and $50) and she admired the look and feel. A family immediately behind her had a young girl who overheard and was fascinated with the “plaaaastique” money with the Queen of England on it.. She just had to get mum to take a photo of her holding the notes. Her little sister joined in, but despite mum’s protestations, held the notes over her face. Now there will be a photo to embarrass her at a 21st or a wedding! Ray, the travelling website writer, came down at this point and gave me his card. HE declined to be photographed with Australian notes.
After a little more discussion, during which we agreed that if we were both leaders of our respective nations, we could solve the world’s problems, we parted. Back in the carriage, things were definitely quieter than they had been the day before – after all, we were nearly all new to each other.
The scenery was of spindly, bald trees. There was also ivy, which Joan said had been imported from Russia to help bind banks of creeks to stop erosion – and like every other good biological idea, it was disastrous in application. The ivy had become a weed and all efforts were being made to eradicate it (to no effect). The group who did that should be condemned to talk with those who thought rabbits and cane toads were a good idea.
At Hattiesburg MS, a few got off but a few got on. One was a young lady, Ruth, who got herself into trouble by bringing on more luggage than allowed. For this heinous sin, the conductor berated her soundly (but let her keep them). She rolled her eyes and I said, “Don’t worry!” So we struck up a conversation and, after plastic money, we got down to how little she knew about Australia. I showed her some pictures on my laptop and she, being an Arts/Architecture double major, brought her laptop out and explained the troubles she was having opening files. Feeling like I was back at work, I ran through possible solutions – and showed her them in Windows on my Mac. She was amazed, especially that I didn’t have to shut down to start Windows. This information she will pass on to her friend who has a … taa dah dah … Mac! She got off in Birmingham AL and I watched the scenery go by and read another book given to me by a fellow passenger. This book was not as interesting as the last, so I kept dozing off and dropping the book. What kept me awake was the magnificence of the Southern Baptist churches. At first I thought they were large estates, or even high-class hotels – but they were churches. The strikingness of their appearance was made more noticeable by the counterpoint against the poverty evident in the houses around them. When we reached Atlanta GA, my Mexican acquaintance got off to visit his daughter. Then the masses came on! Nearly every seat was going to be occupied, so I lost my “spread space”. Lily, from Philadelphia, sat next to me – she had five children, but four living now, thirteen grandchildren and seventeen great-grandchildren. She had retired from working in a laundry business and now generally helped out looking after the grand (and great-grand) children.
Now, with the carriage nearly fill and picking up more each stop, the study in humanity and the fact that they made a continuous line to the toilet meant I didn’t get much sleep.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
22 January
After a full night’s sleep I woke at 5, then dozed until 5:15 when as we pulled into Houston. It was out for a little walk, a small look and then back in. We left Houston on time at 6:15, and after a short time, stopped, backed up, and then continued on. I was up at 6:30 for breakfast – first there. I had tea (hot!) and scrambled eggs with bacon and biscuit. The tea was not quite as at home, but I will either fiddle or accept it. Just before I finished, along came another passenger. He was Ray, and over breakfast I found out he was a retired engineer from Denver. He enjoys riding trains and has a website railpassengerUSA.com. We spoke about retiring, “baby boomers” moving around the country, education and economic conditions around the country. The outside scenery included Lake Houston and then the spindly trees and wet conditions which would eventually become bayou country. Then I took the opportunity to wash and change. My clothes, which had been worn since Sunday morning (well, through two Sundays and one Monday to be exact) were showing signs and smells of being on too long. The train stopped briefly at Beaumont and I went to go outside but didn’t make it. Ended up chatting to Ben, originally from Iran (Tehran) but now from California (Silicon Valley). He had emigrated at 20, set up his own bus company, then sold up and retired at 42. Since then he has been retired and mainly travelled. Currently he is going around by train. We discussed a little politics (he was aware that John Howard was Prime Minister, but not that he had been replaced by Kevin Rudd. However he did think we had a president. The conversation turned to travel, country conditions (I wasn’t aware 11% of Iran was jungle; he wasn’t aware most of Australia was desert nor that we had a drought) and friendliness of people (he thought Australians were very friendly people. Americans were not a classless society, despite what appearances may have been. Then we went upstairs, and watched the scenery go by. Now the scenery had become swampy, with spindly trees, little foliage and varying degrees of water around the base of the trees. Occasionally we passed through towns, with nearly all houses having shingle roofs, which looked very different to me. Some places were neat, but many showed signs of neglect and decay. This could just be a consequence of railways, as it is common in most countries, or a sign of poverty in the area. We stopped at Lake Charles TX, across a road, and picked up passengers. We were there for quite a few minutes, blocking traffic. A fellow passenger said that in another town, a freight train blocked the road each morning for an hour and traffic didn’t flow. After that the scenery was new, reasonably large, estates. It quickly changed back to bayou or more cleared, but still swampy, country. This is supposed to be the view for the majority of the day into New Orleans. There were rice fields (we assume) visible from the train as we were around La Fayette. Most of the area looked industrial and most of the housing looked to be occupied by lower economic groups. Off the train at LaFayette I spoke with the conductor and took his photo with the train, then chatted with Carlin, from Tallahassee. She had grown up in the Bahamas with Canadians and British and had just returned from five weeks in the Czech Republic. We discussed regional accents, moving around the US and good places to visit, education systems and a little on Australia (she has friends from Perth, at ACU).
At 12:40 I was going to get lunch, as we will be into New Orleans not long after 4, but the café was shut. I will get it just after 1. Although I’ve only been on the train since Sunday afternoon, I have felt comfortable with conditions and very comfortable with the people I have travelled with and especially those I have met. I will be sorry to get off and finish this section of my trip.
Ron and LaVonne, Larelea, the corrections officer, the man from California and the woman from New York, the German tourist, the Carny and the woman from Louisiana, Scott and Gary (staff), Ben and Carlin have all made parts of the trip memorable.
The late afternoon was spent amusing two children who went along the carriage demanding attention from each and every adult. Finally, just after five, we pulled (well, backed in actually) in to New Orleans. I took a cab to the Hotel le Cirque, booked in, had a looooong shower, did the computer stuff and then to sleep.
At 12:40 I was going to get lunch, as we will be into New Orleans not long after 4, but the café was shut. I will get it just after 1. Although I’ve only been on the train since Sunday afternoon, I have felt comfortable with conditions and very comfortable with the people I have travelled with and especially those I have met. I will be sorry to get off and finish this section of my trip.
Ron and LaVonne, Larelea, the corrections officer, the man from California and the woman from New York, the German tourist, the Carny and the woman from Louisiana, Scott and Gary (staff), Ben and Carlin have all made parts of the trip memorable.
The late afternoon was spent amusing two children who went along the carriage demanding attention from each and every adult. Finally, just after five, we pulled (well, backed in actually) in to New Orleans. I took a cab to the Hotel le Cirque, booked in, had a looooong shower, did the computer stuff and then to sleep.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
21 January 2008
I tried to drop off to sleep with only minimal success. Occasionally I went into the observation car to look out. By about two I was fully awake and so were the others who should have been off into Tucson (well before now). They were Larelea, Ron and LaVonne and a student studying at the University in Tucson. We talked and bemoaned the fact that the train was late. With my GPS, it showed that the train was travelling at speeds up to 80 miles per hour, so they were trying to make time up. I also spoke with a software engineer working in hospital systems. We discussed health systems and pros and cons of different systems. Eventually we all tired of this and I was back to my seat by 3. We arrived in Tucson about 4 and I went out for a walk in the cool fresh air. I chatted with a conductor who worked on an “on-call” basis and his father and grandfather were both railway men (his father still was). Another (head) conductor was Spanish. Tucson station was impressive in size and appearance, but looked little utilised. Larelea was still inside, as her family were not there. She had to ring them (not surprising, as the train was now two hours late).
Back on the train I tried to drop off to sleep again, but couldn’t. Even looking at the scenery (much sparse vegetation with white patches, presumably sand, between) didn’t help. As we approached the Mexican border, many lights appeared. At some points we were less than a mile away. Vehicles and headlights appeared intermittently, bringing thoughts of illegal border crossings. Eventually I got up and had breakfast – it is served from 6:30. The first difference was being asked if I wanted coffee (tea is an afterthought, and you are asked if you want it hot?). I ordered scrambled eggs and biscuit, then found out that a biscuit is what we call a scone – in a slightly savoury form. The scrambled eggs came with a form of shredded potato and was okay. Another person came in for breakfast and sat opposite. He was originally from Trinidad & Tobago, now lives in California and had retired from being a corrections officer. He had a go at being a substitute teacher and had a degree in statistics, but was looking to go back to work as a corrections officer. His daughter was very good at calculus, so we discussed that, education and religion. When we finished, I was speaking to another pair opposite. The man was from California but had spent a lot of time in Washington. He had also travelled extensively by train and related tales of being gassed and robbed on trains in Europe, having trouble with officials on the TransSiberian and of safety in the US. The woman was from New York and extolled the virtues of visiting New York. Both rated Chicago highly. The other significant point was to take the Californian Zephyr.
Then it was back to watching the scenery. At points we passed very close to the Mexican border and there were many poor, usually temporary-looking settlements. The best reminded me of communities in central Australia – the worst were plies of pallets covered over with tarpaulins. We arrived at El Paso about 10:20. I looked out and saw a fairly modern city, whereas I was expecting Marty Robbins to be riding over the hills pursued by a posse. I did see an advertisement asking for plasma donors on the side of a local bus. After El Paso, the land varied between irrigated cultivated land (for produce – market gardens?), orchards (but no-one could tell me what grew) and desert land. For the rest of the day the land was desert, with the occasional town – very poor – and the occasional home. The topography varied from flat, to undulating, to hilly, with coverage of vegetation from complete to sparse, but never non-existent.
I had the opportunity to chat to a German tourist – travelling the US mainly by train. Most of the time was spent talking with a “carny”, who was travelling into Texas to pick up his daughter. He was interested in Australia, wanting to travel there one day, and also was interested in the country were went through. The conversation covered many diverse topics, including 9/11, modifying cars, driving, fuel prices, education, George Bush (who seems to have polarised Americans so much that they are vehement either in support or opposition to anyone who will listen), “the ugly American” tourist abroad, expressions, jokes and food. A young lady from Louisiana joined in, and between her deep southern drawl and his tighter west coast accent, it was sometimes hard to understand all the words and expressions used. During the afternoon I had a late lunch. I had decided that travelling, a good breakfast and a medium late lunch would be sufficient food, as I’m not doing much. Lunch has and will consist of a sub ham and cheese sandwich. I see no need of an evening meal at the moment.
As it got dark, we wound up our conversations and went our different ways. Overnight the train was to split, with the back half going to form the Texas Eagle and ultimately going though to Chicago. The other half went on as the Sunset Limited to New Orleans. The divorce happened at San Antonio TX, and was scheduled for the early morning. We went straight on, but the Texas Eagle waited until 7 to leave. My temporary friends were due for a smooth sleeping night. I, on the other hand, decided that a little aid would not go astray and, after settling in as comfortably as one can in a coach-class seat, took a little something to help me. At 6 p.m. I saw the scenery go, and that was it for the night. The curtain fell on my second day in the US and my third day of travel.
Back on the train I tried to drop off to sleep again, but couldn’t. Even looking at the scenery (much sparse vegetation with white patches, presumably sand, between) didn’t help. As we approached the Mexican border, many lights appeared. At some points we were less than a mile away. Vehicles and headlights appeared intermittently, bringing thoughts of illegal border crossings. Eventually I got up and had breakfast – it is served from 6:30. The first difference was being asked if I wanted coffee (tea is an afterthought, and you are asked if you want it hot?). I ordered scrambled eggs and biscuit, then found out that a biscuit is what we call a scone – in a slightly savoury form. The scrambled eggs came with a form of shredded potato and was okay. Another person came in for breakfast and sat opposite. He was originally from Trinidad & Tobago, now lives in California and had retired from being a corrections officer. He had a go at being a substitute teacher and had a degree in statistics, but was looking to go back to work as a corrections officer. His daughter was very good at calculus, so we discussed that, education and religion. When we finished, I was speaking to another pair opposite. The man was from California but had spent a lot of time in Washington. He had also travelled extensively by train and related tales of being gassed and robbed on trains in Europe, having trouble with officials on the TransSiberian and of safety in the US. The woman was from New York and extolled the virtues of visiting New York. Both rated Chicago highly. The other significant point was to take the Californian Zephyr.
Then it was back to watching the scenery. At points we passed very close to the Mexican border and there were many poor, usually temporary-looking settlements. The best reminded me of communities in central Australia – the worst were plies of pallets covered over with tarpaulins. We arrived at El Paso about 10:20. I looked out and saw a fairly modern city, whereas I was expecting Marty Robbins to be riding over the hills pursued by a posse. I did see an advertisement asking for plasma donors on the side of a local bus. After El Paso, the land varied between irrigated cultivated land (for produce – market gardens?), orchards (but no-one could tell me what grew) and desert land. For the rest of the day the land was desert, with the occasional town – very poor – and the occasional home. The topography varied from flat, to undulating, to hilly, with coverage of vegetation from complete to sparse, but never non-existent.
I had the opportunity to chat to a German tourist – travelling the US mainly by train. Most of the time was spent talking with a “carny”, who was travelling into Texas to pick up his daughter. He was interested in Australia, wanting to travel there one day, and also was interested in the country were went through. The conversation covered many diverse topics, including 9/11, modifying cars, driving, fuel prices, education, George Bush (who seems to have polarised Americans so much that they are vehement either in support or opposition to anyone who will listen), “the ugly American” tourist abroad, expressions, jokes and food. A young lady from Louisiana joined in, and between her deep southern drawl and his tighter west coast accent, it was sometimes hard to understand all the words and expressions used. During the afternoon I had a late lunch. I had decided that travelling, a good breakfast and a medium late lunch would be sufficient food, as I’m not doing much. Lunch has and will consist of a sub ham and cheese sandwich. I see no need of an evening meal at the moment.
As it got dark, we wound up our conversations and went our different ways. Overnight the train was to split, with the back half going to form the Texas Eagle and ultimately going though to Chicago. The other half went on as the Sunset Limited to New Orleans. The divorce happened at San Antonio TX, and was scheduled for the early morning. We went straight on, but the Texas Eagle waited until 7 to leave. My temporary friends were due for a smooth sleeping night. I, on the other hand, decided that a little aid would not go astray and, after settling in as comfortably as one can in a coach-class seat, took a little something to help me. At 6 p.m. I saw the scenery go, and that was it for the night. The curtain fell on my second day in the US and my third day of travel.
20 January 2008
That time finally rolled around. The alarm went off at 5:30 and I promptly went back to sleep – but fortunately only for a few minutes. After rising, getting things together, having breakfast, performing ablutions (sounds better than saying showering, cleaning teeth and all those other necessary things each morning), I was ready – and Jennifer arrived to pick me up just before I switched all the other computer gear off. I put my bags into her car, we set off and then I remembered to go back and switch everything off.
After that auspicious start, nothing could go wrong. Arrival at the airport was in plenty of time, so I checked my luggage in. The good news was my suitcase was only 20 kg. The bad news was my backpack was 3 kg over, so I had to suddenly decide what to take out and what was dispensible if my luggage was mislaid for a time. That decision was made, the suitcase went, and the very helpful attendant who couldn’t get me a window seat then told me the plane was not due to leave until 1:25 (instead of 12:20). The first (for me) that followed was I read all of the Sunday papers, both of them, cover to cover. Then it was to passport control (no problems) and the backpack was weighed again. It was marginally over, but a blind eye was turned (as I chucked the papers before I boarded the aircraft anyway). Then screening came up, I emptied all my pockets – and the new bum bag I had bought from Salamanca markets, proudly made in Australia, broke the stitching on a strap – a good idea gone west before I even boarded the aircraft. For the first time ever I went through without setting the detectors off – or without being questioned about what I had on me! The half-hour epic of previous flights became a non-event.
With a lot of time to spend in the departure lounge, I edited the travel supplements and posted off some relevant pages to Fran. I did most of the Sunday puzzles. Then I got to chatting with couple from Chicago who came out to watch the tennis and were going to do so again in two years. It was a very interesting chat with Ferry and Yolande and when the boarding call was made (for the unfortunates at the blunt end of the plane) and I went to line up, Ferry graciously gave me the book he had been reading (and, I hope, finished). On the plane, after going through three separate passport checks (I now know why unemployment has dropped in Australia – all the unemployed are now employed checking passports!) I was on the aisle, next to two young ladies – Kate, a graduate of commerce from RMIT University and her friend Sarah, a current student of commerce from RMIT University. They were off for a long holiday – but, when we swapped notes, not as long a holiday as mine. We finally departed Melbourne Airport at about 2 p.m.
What can I tell you about a flight of nearly 13 hours, in a seat designed by the Marquis de Sade to inflict insidious torture on anyone over two years of age, more than 50 cm around the waist or more than one metre in height? Nothing really – what happened on the plane stayed on the plane, but the food was edible, the ground speed exceeded 1000 km/hour for long periods and the turbulence was a) sufficient to give Sarah motion sickness, b) enough to cause all walkers to look as if they were dipsomaniacs and c) violent enough to ensure clothes packed with soap powder would have been more than “whiter than white”.
We landed in Los Angeles not long after 9 (local time) and then had to queue to get to an airbridge. The passengers had to queue to get off the plane and show passports again. We then queued to go through Immigration Control. Here an airline employee checked to make sure we had all filled out our forms fully – full marks to that lady! At Immigration a quick passport check (ok), place of residence for first night (an Amtrak Train, but I didn’t know which one yet – that caused consternation for a short time, but I couldn’t lie and put a fictitious address in, could I), fingerprints (took two goes to get it right – never done it before) and a picture (well, two goes there) and I was through. After declaring my vegemite and pins for gifts to people I meet, I went straight through after collecting my suitcase – and was out of formalities within a minute or so (and for once, my luggage beat me out!).
A quick enquiry to Travellers Aid and I waited out the front for a “Union Station” bus at the green FlyAway sign. The bus arrived within a few minutes and I was on. After pickups at the other terminals we were off.
Entering the bus was okay as I entered from the kerb, but once on the bus something was wrong – that was it, the driver was on the wrong side. No, this is the US, I just have to get used to it. For over 20 minutes we travelled along freeways and then arrived at Union Station. After paying the $4 fare I collected my baggage (I already had US currency from Australia, so that was no hassle). Despite the information from AMTRAK with my pass saying I could book at stations, the assistant there didn’t want to know so I was off to a payphone to ring. JULIE, the automated system, had trouble with my accent and requests, but a real person (Zac) was able to assist me in no time flat. I booked from Los Angeles to New Orleans, overnight, then New Orleans to Washington. I was going to go the other way, but the train had already left to Seattle for the day. I then went back to the station desk and collected the tickets and got useful information about the station and surroundings from the assistant.
I sat and read while observing those around me. LA County Sheriffs drove by in their electric buggy. The ornate and spacious Union Station waiting room was a sight in itself, but the passing parade of humanity was distracting me. A young coupe asked if I could take their photo, then reciprocated by taking mine. At just after 2, I answered the call of the Sunset Limited (and the Texas Eagle) and joined the queue (and you thought the English has a predilection for queues!) to join the queue walking to Track 10 (not Track 29, this was NOT the Chattanooga Choochoo) to join the queue for the car to New Orleans. I got a window seat (hurrah) and found it had a power point, so charged the camera batteries (which had gone flat, you guessed it, when I went to take a photo of Kate and Sarah). The window seat was upstairs (luggage, toilets, etc. downstairs) so I got more exercise taking the luggage up. Do you have any idea of how heavy 17 kg becomes when carrying it up a narrow stairway? The train eased its way out of the station at 2:30 and promptly paused as the last carriage left the platform. After that, we were on our way. I went to the observation/cafeteria car (observation upstairs, cafeteria downstairs) and observed. And took photos. And then got something to eat and drink.
I had deliberately chosen to go “coach”, i.e. seats rather than sleeper, here so I could meet real people. And so I met Ron and LaVonne, from Iowa, and we had a most interesting discussion about LA (size and appearance), motor vehicles and performance and fuel consumption and farming. The matter and tenor of the discussion changed when I was talking to Larelea from Hollywood, who was off to visit her son in Tucson.
The train then arrived in Palm Springs CA at just after 7, being scheduled to arrive at 5:06. I put my first foot on US soil here, stepping off the platform into the sand (before this, all my steps had been on paved surfaces). The station is outside the town and suggestions to walk into the centre of town are only given to those who you don’t wish to see again, as it’s in desert.
At San Antonio the train splits, with the rear two cars (one sleeper, one coach) going up to Chicago. The rest goes on to New Orleans.
One drawback of the high carriages is that sway on uneven tracks is magnified – more high turbulence conditions ahead tonight.
After that auspicious start, nothing could go wrong. Arrival at the airport was in plenty of time, so I checked my luggage in. The good news was my suitcase was only 20 kg. The bad news was my backpack was 3 kg over, so I had to suddenly decide what to take out and what was dispensible if my luggage was mislaid for a time. That decision was made, the suitcase went, and the very helpful attendant who couldn’t get me a window seat then told me the plane was not due to leave until 1:25 (instead of 12:20). The first (for me) that followed was I read all of the Sunday papers, both of them, cover to cover. Then it was to passport control (no problems) and the backpack was weighed again. It was marginally over, but a blind eye was turned (as I chucked the papers before I boarded the aircraft anyway). Then screening came up, I emptied all my pockets – and the new bum bag I had bought from Salamanca markets, proudly made in Australia, broke the stitching on a strap – a good idea gone west before I even boarded the aircraft. For the first time ever I went through without setting the detectors off – or without being questioned about what I had on me! The half-hour epic of previous flights became a non-event.
With a lot of time to spend in the departure lounge, I edited the travel supplements and posted off some relevant pages to Fran. I did most of the Sunday puzzles. Then I got to chatting with couple from Chicago who came out to watch the tennis and were going to do so again in two years. It was a very interesting chat with Ferry and Yolande and when the boarding call was made (for the unfortunates at the blunt end of the plane) and I went to line up, Ferry graciously gave me the book he had been reading (and, I hope, finished). On the plane, after going through three separate passport checks (I now know why unemployment has dropped in Australia – all the unemployed are now employed checking passports!) I was on the aisle, next to two young ladies – Kate, a graduate of commerce from RMIT University and her friend Sarah, a current student of commerce from RMIT University. They were off for a long holiday – but, when we swapped notes, not as long a holiday as mine. We finally departed Melbourne Airport at about 2 p.m.
What can I tell you about a flight of nearly 13 hours, in a seat designed by the Marquis de Sade to inflict insidious torture on anyone over two years of age, more than 50 cm around the waist or more than one metre in height? Nothing really – what happened on the plane stayed on the plane, but the food was edible, the ground speed exceeded 1000 km/hour for long periods and the turbulence was a) sufficient to give Sarah motion sickness, b) enough to cause all walkers to look as if they were dipsomaniacs and c) violent enough to ensure clothes packed with soap powder would have been more than “whiter than white”.
We landed in Los Angeles not long after 9 (local time) and then had to queue to get to an airbridge. The passengers had to queue to get off the plane and show passports again. We then queued to go through Immigration Control. Here an airline employee checked to make sure we had all filled out our forms fully – full marks to that lady! At Immigration a quick passport check (ok), place of residence for first night (an Amtrak Train, but I didn’t know which one yet – that caused consternation for a short time, but I couldn’t lie and put a fictitious address in, could I), fingerprints (took two goes to get it right – never done it before) and a picture (well, two goes there) and I was through. After declaring my vegemite and pins for gifts to people I meet, I went straight through after collecting my suitcase – and was out of formalities within a minute or so (and for once, my luggage beat me out!).
A quick enquiry to Travellers Aid and I waited out the front for a “Union Station” bus at the green FlyAway sign. The bus arrived within a few minutes and I was on. After pickups at the other terminals we were off.
Entering the bus was okay as I entered from the kerb, but once on the bus something was wrong – that was it, the driver was on the wrong side. No, this is the US, I just have to get used to it. For over 20 minutes we travelled along freeways and then arrived at Union Station. After paying the $4 fare I collected my baggage (I already had US currency from Australia, so that was no hassle). Despite the information from AMTRAK with my pass saying I could book at stations, the assistant there didn’t want to know so I was off to a payphone to ring. JULIE, the automated system, had trouble with my accent and requests, but a real person (Zac) was able to assist me in no time flat. I booked from Los Angeles to New Orleans, overnight, then New Orleans to Washington. I was going to go the other way, but the train had already left to Seattle for the day. I then went back to the station desk and collected the tickets and got useful information about the station and surroundings from the assistant.
I sat and read while observing those around me. LA County Sheriffs drove by in their electric buggy. The ornate and spacious Union Station waiting room was a sight in itself, but the passing parade of humanity was distracting me. A young coupe asked if I could take their photo, then reciprocated by taking mine. At just after 2, I answered the call of the Sunset Limited (and the Texas Eagle) and joined the queue (and you thought the English has a predilection for queues!) to join the queue walking to Track 10 (not Track 29, this was NOT the Chattanooga Choochoo) to join the queue for the car to New Orleans. I got a window seat (hurrah) and found it had a power point, so charged the camera batteries (which had gone flat, you guessed it, when I went to take a photo of Kate and Sarah). The window seat was upstairs (luggage, toilets, etc. downstairs) so I got more exercise taking the luggage up. Do you have any idea of how heavy 17 kg becomes when carrying it up a narrow stairway? The train eased its way out of the station at 2:30 and promptly paused as the last carriage left the platform. After that, we were on our way. I went to the observation/cafeteria car (observation upstairs, cafeteria downstairs) and observed. And took photos. And then got something to eat and drink.
I had deliberately chosen to go “coach”, i.e. seats rather than sleeper, here so I could meet real people. And so I met Ron and LaVonne, from Iowa, and we had a most interesting discussion about LA (size and appearance), motor vehicles and performance and fuel consumption and farming. The matter and tenor of the discussion changed when I was talking to Larelea from Hollywood, who was off to visit her son in Tucson.
The train then arrived in Palm Springs CA at just after 7, being scheduled to arrive at 5:06. I put my first foot on US soil here, stepping off the platform into the sand (before this, all my steps had been on paved surfaces). The station is outside the town and suggestions to walk into the centre of town are only given to those who you don’t wish to see again, as it’s in desert.
At San Antonio the train splits, with the rear two cars (one sleeper, one coach) going up to Chicago. The rest goes on to New Orleans.
One drawback of the high carriages is that sway on uneven tracks is magnified – more high turbulence conditions ahead tonight.
Friday, January 18, 2008
All ready
The suitcase is packed.
The backpack is packed, except for the laptop (otherwise I couldn't write this, or check my emails).
The camera is clean and ready to go, with charged batteries and spare cards (but I can't find the computer-camera lead).
The bumbag is packed.
I only have to update the iPod, disconnect extraneous appliances at home and sleep, shower and dress.
I've created a bulk email in gmail. If I've forgotten you, or put you on when you didn't want to be on, just email me.
Photos will come on as I can put them on - but don't expect any for at least a few days, as I will most likely be travelling on trains which won't have wireless Internet built in. They may have to wait until I stay in a town for a day or so.
If you try to contact me, remember the time difference and I'm a day behind.
Now I'll be ready by 8 tomorrow and chew my nails waiting for Jennifer.
The backpack is packed, except for the laptop (otherwise I couldn't write this, or check my emails).
The camera is clean and ready to go, with charged batteries and spare cards (but I can't find the computer-camera lead).
The bumbag is packed.
I only have to update the iPod, disconnect extraneous appliances at home and sleep, shower and dress.
I've created a bulk email in gmail. If I've forgotten you, or put you on when you didn't want to be on, just email me.
Photos will come on as I can put them on - but don't expect any for at least a few days, as I will most likely be travelling on trains which won't have wireless Internet built in. They may have to wait until I stay in a town for a day or so.
If you try to contact me, remember the time difference and I'm a day behind.
Now I'll be ready by 8 tomorrow and chew my nails waiting for Jennifer.
Nearly Ready
Nearly all has been packed.
All tickets and vouchers have been collected.
Lists have been made and are being checked.
Despite everything, I can't help feeling I've forgotten something.
My boots (made for walking) have been reheeled and cleaned.
All medicines (and doctor's note) have been packed.
The camera lens and viewing screens have been cleaned, as has the laptop screen.
I carry only: jacket; my backpack (computer, pens, , US adaptor, battery charger, clothing for three days - just in case); camera; bumbag (what I normally carry in my pockets - yes, it is LARGE!); suitcase (clothes, boots, electrical stuff, some reference books) and my writing folder (from school - my parting gift) with tickets, a book and some puzzle books.
A friend will be picking me up at 8:30 to go to the airport.
All tickets and vouchers have been collected.
Lists have been made and are being checked.
Despite everything, I can't help feeling I've forgotten something.
My boots (made for walking) have been reheeled and cleaned.
All medicines (and doctor's note) have been packed.
The camera lens and viewing screens have been cleaned, as has the laptop screen.
I carry only: jacket; my backpack (computer, pens, , US adaptor, battery charger, clothing for three days - just in case); camera; bumbag (what I normally carry in my pockets - yes, it is LARGE!); suitcase (clothes, boots, electrical stuff, some reference books) and my writing folder (from school - my parting gift) with tickets, a book and some puzzle books.
A friend will be picking me up at 8:30 to go to the airport.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Tassie Travels
Rather than backdate entries, I'll post as one entry.
I have learned that I must prepare each entry each day, which I will do from written notes (I will also keep a paper diary and enter in during the day and tidy up each night) and also be more vigilant at finding wireless Internet sites.
December 28
This includes the previous evening as the two run together.
We finally drove onto the Spirit of Tasmania at 7:45 after starting to board at 6:25. Not knowing the procedure, everything was new. After lining up, we had the car engine compartment and boot searched, got given a “green card” for all OK, and a security tag. Then we lined up again. At the “ticket office” I handed in the security tag, the e-ticket and my driving licence and we received our seat allocation. On board the trip hadn’t finished! We drove down into the bowels of the vessel (well, the lowest deck and right near the bow). After memorizing where DOUG was, we went up to the Ocean view recliners G25 and G26. After settling in, we had tea on board, then walked around and then settled just as the ship left Station Pier (or was that Station Pier?). We spoke to various people around the ship and we settled into our seats. I changed into a tracksuit for the evening and looked through the windows to see us go through the heads about 10:45. I went to “bed” about 11, then woke at 5 and changed. The early morning announcement came over at 5:20, when everyone else woke and got up. Just before leaving we found a toilet bag left from H26 and gave it to a member of the crew. On our call we went down to garage G1 and were into car at 6:40. It was funny that a couple sitting near us couldn’t remember where they had left their car and it ended up being the one in front of me! We were out by 7 and then went through quarantine – not a long experience! We drove around Devonport and had some breakfast at an Ice Cream Café (no, we had a cooked breakfast, not ice cream).
Before we left, I tried to get a small hard drive which was on special at Harvey Norman and I couldn’t get in Moorabbin. Guess what – they still had stock in Devonport! After that success, we did some other shopping at Woolworths and then headed to Ulverstone and booked into our motel.
After we prepared and had lunch, Fran rang her friends. WE made arrangements to meet them – one at Cataract Gorge and one at their home. We drove to Launceston, found Cataract Gorge and quickly met one family. While Fran talked, I went on the chairlift (and read it was made by the made by Arthur Seat Chairlift Co., which doesn’t have the best reputation, but AFTER I got off).
Fran wanted to show me the Penny Royal, but it was closed
We went to the home of her other friend and had an enjoyable chat and afternoon tea with them. On our way out of Launceston we called into the RACT – and they didn’t have a map of Tasmania! Although I had the SatNav to guide me, I wanted to mark the roads we travelled as a souvenir. As daylight saving added quite a lot of daylight at the end of the day, we went to the Devil’s gullet and Fran took her first extended walk. It wasn’t too bad. On our way back to Ulverstone we had tea at the Mole Creek Hotel and filled with petrol at Devonport at a cheaper price than Melbourne. After that it was back to the motel and to bed by 11.
Observations from the first day:
am means anti-morning not ante meridian
an “easy walk” means different things
Many people asked me about “DOUG”
The McDonalds Devonport is open 24 hours.
December 29
On our first real day in Tasmania, we woke at 7 and then were woken again by Fran’s alarm at 7:30. Fran didn’t know how to switch the alarm off, so guess what happened each morning? No, I’m not going to tell you, you will have to read it for yourself. We were finally up before 8 and my breakfast was the leftover cold pizza and coke. After normal ablutions, we were packed and left the motel about 9. We shopped in Ulverstone and were able to buy Melbourne papers and specials at the local IGA the same as anywhere else – a pleasant revelation. We left to go to Penguin and spent some time looking around and taking photos on the waterfront. Then we were off to Burnie and had a good look around. We only had a brief look around Wynyard and then drove straight to Smithton. After booking into our motel we unpacked and went down the street and had lunch in a small café in town. While Fran finished her lunch, I wandered around and got some tablets Fran had not been able to get in Adelaide. We then drove back to Stanley, had a look around the town and then drove to the Nut. We went up the chairlift, did the walk around the top (very windy and cool, despite being warm at seal level) and went back on the chairlift. At the shop there, a woman from Belgium was working, so we had a brief discussion on what to see in Belgium – unsurprisingly, each person recommends their own home area. This was followed by a scenic drive around Stanley district and the town. We headed off to Dip Falls (the Big Tree walk was uninviting) and had a look around these very scenic falls. I started into mum’s habit of haranguing the locals and extracting as much information as I could – the falls were very dry, grandparents were taking their grandchildren there and friends were expected for a barbecue that evening, at the falls. After driving back to Smithton, we had a driving look around the town before returning to the motel, put washing on, prepared and had our tea and I did some computer work while watching TV. Most places seemed to have only dial-up Internet, which was useless to me as I wanted to download a lot of photographs. After finishing the washing (complementary), I wrote some postcards (no-one has yet said they have received them!) and was into bed by 10.
December 30
After waking about 7, we left just after 8 and drove down the road to Woolnorth. At the Wind Farm, there was a bus about to do a tour (it’s on private land, so we took it) and because there were some booked no-shows – we were able to participate. We saw the Wind Farm up close, an explanatory display and later went through the old settlement and had morning tea there. We also went to Cape Grim and Cape Woolnorth so we really saw the north-west of Tasmania. We got back to DOUG about 12:30. Then we drove along to Marrawah and had lunch in the pub. This time it was Fran’s turn to interrogate the locals, who we found cam from – Melbourne! We visited Golden Point beach and camping area, then had a leisurely drive back to Smithton via Dismal Swamp. Contrary to its name, the place was not dismal and certainly wasn’t a swamp. A feature was the covered slide, a 115 metre slope which could be slid down (limit of three slides each in the entry price – put on after one child made 28 slides one afternoon – remember he had to climb back up via the path to slide again). The café there was very good, and the view from the toilets grand! After returning to Smithton and a quick shop at Woollies, we had afternoon tea, walked across and along the river and back before having a light tea, and watching the TV news. After that, I shrank my photos and cleared the memory card in the camera (I had forgotten to bring a card reader) and then went to bed and to sleep.
December 31
We woke about 6 but now Fran’s alarm on mobile went off about 6:45. We packed the car and were off by 8. After settling the account, we shopped at Woollies and filled with petrol (Coles Express – Woolworths didn’t have a discount outlet, but there was no Coles store in Smithton – work that one out!). We were off down the Western Explorer! The first part was retracing our steps through Marrawah and straight through to Arthur River. Here I took photos at the bridge (mistake – I covered my trouser legs with seeds) and then went to the “End of the World” – a point very windy and with the “Roaring Forties” really roaring. Here I met a family from Hoppers Crossing who used to live just down the street from me. From them I had the wisdom of booking things reinforced.
We the drove on along Western Explorer proper – generally very good, though it had a few large metal and corrugated sections and a few tight corners with loose metal (one panicked Fran – I need to get the floor pan put back into its correct shape). We arrived at Zeehan about 1:30 but no suitable lunch place was found. We continued into Strahan, confirmed cruise and got paper tickets. It was very hot (36°) so we got lunch and ate it in the car as we headed off to Queenstown. Here an error with mapping in the SatNav was reinforced, as the street numbers were actually the reverse of those programmed into the SatNav. We did eventually find the motel, booked in, unpacked, had a quick walk around the main street of town (it still very warm, found the Herald Sun but not The Age) and then we had tea. Again I had to clear the camera memory card after downloading the pictures and shrinking them (for downloading to Flickr) and then we were off to sleep.
January 1
I awoke suddenly at 6:25 – no alarm went off. That was a false alarm as it went off soon after. We set off early as the cruise was off at 8:30, and we had already found that cruise operators do not wait for latecomers and, with the curving road to Strahan, if we got behind a slow vehicle, we could not pass. We had a good run to Strahan, although at first I panicked as we were behind a small SLOW blue car (but he stopped to look at something and we could pass safely). A problem arose because the ticket parking machine was not working. Fran purchased a parking sticker, then later in the day we found none of the parking machines was working that day. We boarded by 8:10 and were one of the first few, but buses and walkers quickly filled up most seats. We departed at 8:35 and had a very smooth trip. During the cruise we met a couple from Mexico, woman and her son from Warrnambool and family from Gympie. It was a well-narrated tour and there were plenty of opportunities to go out the front, back and on upper decks to take photos or just look around.
AS was my luck, the batteries in my camera went flat just at an historic landing near a boom, so I didn’t get any pictures of it. LESSON – change batteries each day! We walked around at the World Heritage area, then had lunch on board as we returned. During the return trip I chatted with a Scottish man – he and his wife had been out to Australia twice, once up the east coast and now to Tasmania. I fold him about the Nullabour and the Ghan and Indian Pacific train trips. Back at the wharf, we walked around Strahan as Fran not feeling well and had an ice cream. We ran into a Sydney family again, who we initially met at the Woolnorth Wind Farm. Then we drove back to Queenstown through Zeehan and Rosebery, having a good look around each town. We had tea, then walked around town and I took photos. We saw pet and wild rabbits and talked to some locals.
Back at the motel, it was to sleep after organising our Tasmania travel folder.
January 2
After waking at 6:30 and having a cup of tea and breakfast, I wrote up my diary from the last few days. We were packed and ready to leave the motel by just after 8, then filled up with fuel at BP. The drive out was slow, partly because of the winding road and partly because of the other traffic. The scenery was magnificent, especially while we were in the Wilderness Area and we had a good run through to Derwent Bridge (after crossing the Franklin River). We had a stop at Tarraleah and then at Hamilton. Here I managed to get an ice cream and spill a counter display of lollies everywhere while getting a local map. Fran wouldn’t acknowledge me until we left the shop! We then drove up to Strathgordon and, after much searching, eventually found toilets and the information centre. After getting some brochures we headed up further (there really wasn’t too much further to go) and had lunch while looking out over Lake Pedder, at about 2. We went to Gordon Dam, got some photos and I walked across part of the dam wall after doing the 190 steps down and then up. After that, we went through New Norfolk to Hobart. The SatNav sent us to the wrong place (but the correct road) but as a consolation we found cheap fuel. After finally getting to the motel and booked in, we unloaded. We were soon out and had a quick drive around Hobart to get our bearing, then went back to Hungry Jacks at Glenorchy for tea. The next operation was to do a dry run out to Cambridge Airport to suss out for the trip tomorrow morning. It took about 30 minutes. Back at the motel I charged batteries, transferred photos and wrote up diary before going to sleep.
January 3
We were awake at 6:25 and, after ablutions, went over for breakfast. We left at 7:30 to get out on time for our flight with Par Avion – and found that peak hour traffic in Hobart isn’t, by my standards, so we were out well before 8.There were very few others there, so after being weighed, we waited and read. The terminal filled before the flight finally left not long after 8:30. Three planes went out to the same place – Melaleuca Inlet. Three (including us) were on the half-day tour. Four were on the full day tour (which included a four hour walk). The rest were in for either a week or longer, and their packs were HUGE (as there are no supplies of any sort available unless they are flown in). Most were just walking, but one group was a Ph. D. student, his supervisor and the supervisor’s son. They were out for ten days collecting samples for a thesis. One did wear a floppy hat, but none were called “Indiana”, Jones or otherwise. All three planes left full and we flew south over Bruny Island, then along the south coast. At the Inlet, we had morning tea in a bird hide and an orange-bellied parrot arrived outside on cue, followed by his mate. We set off across the airstrip (the topsoil removed to expose white bedrock) and went on a cruise to Bathurst Harbour. This included some dramatic sights. Our return flight was more direct, showing us rugged peaks, tarns, much wilderness and then clearfelled areas of controlled forest. After landing, we went to visit a friend of Fran’s. While Fran chatted, I fixed up my photos and then downloaded quite a few. It was embarrassing then, when the son arrived home and announced that they didn’t have a wireless point – I had just sent about a gigabyte of data through, and now I knew it was through someone else’s connection! We left soon after, went back to the motel, had tea and went to bed, going to sleep while watching TV and after writing up my diary.
January 4
After waking at 6:20 and having breakfast at 7 (we were the first at breakfast most mornings in Hobart), we left at 7:40 to head down south. We had a very good run through Hobart (even though it was peak hour traffic) despite sharing the main roads in Hobart with logging trucks and then had a good run down to Hastings (there were a few houses and very little else there) and on to the caves. There we only a few there, so we booked our cave tour for 10:15 and then walked down to Thermal Pool. This was very nice, an oasis in the forest with excellent surroundings; some families were already in having a swim. We drove slowly down to the caves and then had to wait about 15 minutes before the tour started. Susan was our tour guide (she has only been doing it three weeks) and took our group of 23 through. The cave had nice formations, covered about 400 m to walk, most was up and about down and included 290 steps. We were out by 11:25. On our way out, we chatted with a German family from near Maitland in NSW (they are also coming back on the Spirit of Tasmania on the evening of 11 January). Back at the centre we found it was packed. Morning tea was hot chocolate and then we drove out south down to Cockle Creek, the most southerly point which can be driven to on public roads in Australia. The were many small camps by roadside and a lot of small settlements. We spent a little time at the actual centre of Cockle Creek, then drove back to Geeveston and I got the Melbourne papers and our tickets for the Tehume Airwalk. We looked over the museum of timber there and then drove to the Airwalk. It was very hot, more like Western Australia in summer than Tasmania, so we did the Airwalk and then caught the shuttle back to the centre. After an ice cream and hot chocolate there, we drove out. We went back to Hobart, showered and changed, then went to the Hog’s Breath for tea with the family of Fran’s friend. We had an enjoyable tea and chat, realising that Hobart buildings are designed for cool rather than warm climates. After the meal we drove up to the top of Mt Wellington. Here it was cool and very windy – a dramatic change to the weather only a few minutes before. I walked to the very top, then took some photos from the viewing area. We went back to the motel and changed for bed. It stayed very warm overnight.
January 5
Today was a relatively relaxed day, with rising being delayed until 7:30. It was time to put washing on and have sufficient clothing clean for the rest of the holiday. We had breakfast while washing continued. I wrote up my computer diary and worked on photos while waiting for the clothes to dry. We eventually left about 9:30 and drove into Hobart. After finding a parking space in Macquarie St, we walked to markets. Hot! It was very hot and certainly made things uncomfortable. We walked around and did a little shopping, for ourselves and for others. Like all markets, after a while the thrill wore off and the mundane took over. We drove out to Richmond, had an ice cream and photographed the old bridge. Here we met up with another family from the Spirit of Tasmania. We looked around the town for a model village Fran was after (no success) and bought some other souvenirs. We returned through New Norfolk, did some shopping at Northgate and then went to Fran’s friends for tea and a pleasant evening on a Sandy Bay verandah. Having our hosts water their garden was an experience we on the mainland have not had for years now. We left about 9:30 to return to our motel and retired to sleep.
January 6
After getting up at 6:30 and having our now usual breakfast, we were off to Bruny Island. We arrived at Kettering about 9:30 and were about sixth in line. We paid our $25 ferry fee and then waited until next crossing. I got a paper in the kiosk while waiting (but couldn’t get Melbourne ones) and chatted to others also waiting. I drove on and then got out while crossing. Fran couldn’t get out as the cars were packed in and she couldn’t open her door. The crossing was 15 minutes and we left the ferry as the second vehicle and drove to Dennes Point. The coastal road gave excellent sights as we went across the neck and looked at the penguin rookery and beach. We visited Allonah; there was little there but it had an excellent historical society display. There was no food outlet, so we went on to Lowawannah. We had light lunch there and proceeded down to Cape Bruny lighthouse. It was very windy and cool outside – no cars were in the car park when we arrived but five were there when we left. A pleasant and slow drive through the forest to Adventure Bay gave us a good look around. We headed back to the ferry and had to wait for a return trip (between the scheduled crossings) to get back. We were again on the upper deck and there was enough room for Fran to get out and look around as we crossed. During this time I had a chat with a Lion from Clarence. We should have been about tenth off, but the vehicle in front got a flat on the ferry and the spare he put on was also flat when he went to drive off. The master got him to move up a few metres so all of us in the starboard line could get off. By the time we got back to Hobart it was too late to get the Melbourne papers, but filled up with petrol and got a final car wash as DOUG had accumulated more dust from driving over unsealed roads. Fran rang and changed our bookings so we will stay in Hobart another evening to minimise our driving on Tuesday. Once we were back at the motel, we had tea in the dining-room and then spent some time fixing up pictures, completing diary entries, doing some magazine competition entries and then watching a video on my laptop before going to sleep.
January 7
We followed our now established routine of up at 6:35, breakfast at 7 and leaving about 7:40, heading for Port Arthur. We arrived at 9:10 and moved through quickly, parking in the lowest parking area (the parking bays are far too small) and converting our prepaid tickets into day tickets. We set off on a walking tour almost straight away; this was very good, but very different from the talks when we were there as students in the early 1960s. We looked over the monument at the Broken Arrow café, which was very moving as the events were certainly still fresh in my mind. We went on the harbour cruise at 11. We spent over an hour wandering around and through the buildings and eating lunch and then watched a performance of players behind the penitentiary. We left after putting in a suggestion about water saving. Stops on the way back included the Blowhole (where I gave parents suggestions about how to embarrass young schoolchildren), Tasman’s Arch, Eaglehawk Neck and the Tessellated Pavement (which we did walk down to). Once back in Hobart (Glenorchy) we picked up the Melbourne papers and then went back to our motel. We went over to the dining room for our last tea there (the meals were generous and reasonably priced), then back and packed before going to bed.
January 8
We woke at 6 and got up at 6:45. We packed, had breakfast, settled bill (surprisingly low given the time we stayed and the meals we had) and then left to go to Cadbury’s (only about five minutes away) and parked, then divested ourselves of all extraneous things. Once in, I paid for the tour and we only had to wait a short time before we started. Everyone had to put on paper hats and those with beards also had to put a snood on. The tour was quite good, but not as comprehensive as the last time (1971 with Sunshine West High). We left after buying a few (okay, quite a few) seconds and samples. DOUG was filled with fuel, we got the Melbourne papers and we set off through Sorell for our run up the east coast. We had a look at Swansea, when Fran had been before, and then through to Coles Bay and Freycinet. We looked at the Visitors’ Centre, but the walks were too long for Fran. We returned and looked at Friendly Beach, and went on to Bicheno. We had a quick look around after booking in for a penguin tour for tomorrow night (no spaces available for this evening), I had a milk shake and then we went on to St Helens, where we booked into our motel. After unpacking we had a look around, then did a little shopping and had a rest for a while before having tea at the hotel bistro. I met and chatted to a father and two children from near Midland (WA) and Fran chatted to a woman from Nandaly (near Wycheproof) – small world! The motel has a pool in the centre of the rooms we are in. We had tea at the motel and walked along the beach after, went to bed and watched TV before falling asleep.
January 9
We woke at 6:45 to Fran’s alarm (she still doesn’t know how to stop it!) and then the telephone alarm, which some kind previous resident had left set. I got up and showered and dressed, then walked along the street to the newsagent to get the papers. We had breakfast while reading the papers. We left about 8:40 and drove north to Binalong Bay. It is a typical small seaside settlement – small, cosy and spread-out. We drove out to see some lookouts and at Skeleton Point a couple told us of an exhausted dog which had followed them out of the bush. They left and I got the dog to follow us until there was mobile phone signal. Fran rang the local St Helens newsagency which gave us the local council number. We rang them and gave them the tag number. Five minutes later the owner rang and said she would drive out and pick him up – his name was Boof. In the meantime he drank nearly a litre and a half of water. When she arrived, he readily jumped into her car and went home.
We went to St Marys to see the local scenery and then enjoyed pancakes at Elephant Pass. After that we explored Bicheno and saw our first penguin chick there, only a few metres from the water and next to a public path. We had tea and then I downloaded some pictures at the local café. Then we waited for the penguin tour. We were waiting for “no-shows” so we could join an earlier tour, and made it to a 9:10 tour. It was good as we saw the penguins walk around our feet and there were at least a few hundred that we saw. It was a slow trip back to the motel at St Helens as I avoided a few wallabies and a possum with a baby on its back.
January 10
We slept in a little as time was not so critical now. After a shower and dressing, I walked down to get the papers, then had breakfast. A little shopping at the local Chickenfeed store and we were ready to go. We took the highway to Scottsdale and visited the visitor centre. There was some useful information there, so we digested that and headed off to Bridport. This was another seaside town, but with more commercial fishing. We went back inland and visited the local lavender farm (Bridstowe) – another example of a person with money indulging a hobby and at the same time providing enjoyment for many and employment for a few.
We took the East Tamar Highway and visited George Town – a very pleasant town. After sightseeing, we travelled south and called in to see friends on the outskirts of Launceston. Semi-retired, they live on a few hundred acres in a new home they designed. Then we headed into Launceston and found our motel, booked in and then had tea. After some calls, we headed out to visit friends of Fran’s in the suburbs, then went back for our final night in Tasmania.
January 11
We rose a little later so we could visit the Macaque monkeys in the park opposite where we stayed. After booking out and making sure nothing had been left, we parked at the park and saw the monkeys doing their “monkey” things. Then we drove out of Launceston, picking up the papers on the way. We went along the West Tamar Highway and called in at Brady’s Lookout, then at the museum at Beaconsfield. This was interesting as it was next to the still-operating local gold mine (famous from the recent tragedy). We went to Greens Beach to visit other friends of Fran in their holiday shack (which they are renovating) and had morning tea with them, on the beach (about 40 metres from their front gate, through the bush).
We left, had lunch, and then leisurely drove to Devonport. After a little browsing in the local shops, and then a relaxing time under the trees on the esplanade, we had an early tea and went to the Spirit of Tasmania by 6. After the quick inspection, we lined up and then boarded the ship not long after 6:30. This time we were on G6, so expected to get off more quickly. Our seats were A21 and A20, so we had the entire window view of the stern to ourselves. The forecast was for a slightly rougher night, but in the end the voyage was quite smooth and we entered the heads not long before 5 and docked on schedule at 6. We were off before 6:20, filled the car with fuel at the foot of West Gate and then headed off to Adelaide to drop Fran off.
Our Tasmania holiday was over.
I have learned that I must prepare each entry each day, which I will do from written notes (I will also keep a paper diary and enter in during the day and tidy up each night) and also be more vigilant at finding wireless Internet sites.
December 28
This includes the previous evening as the two run together.
We finally drove onto the Spirit of Tasmania at 7:45 after starting to board at 6:25. Not knowing the procedure, everything was new. After lining up, we had the car engine compartment and boot searched, got given a “green card” for all OK, and a security tag. Then we lined up again. At the “ticket office” I handed in the security tag, the e-ticket and my driving licence and we received our seat allocation. On board the trip hadn’t finished! We drove down into the bowels of the vessel (well, the lowest deck and right near the bow). After memorizing where DOUG was, we went up to the Ocean view recliners G25 and G26. After settling in, we had tea on board, then walked around and then settled just as the ship left Station Pier (or was that Station Pier?). We spoke to various people around the ship and we settled into our seats. I changed into a tracksuit for the evening and looked through the windows to see us go through the heads about 10:45. I went to “bed” about 11, then woke at 5 and changed. The early morning announcement came over at 5:20, when everyone else woke and got up. Just before leaving we found a toilet bag left from H26 and gave it to a member of the crew. On our call we went down to garage G1 and were into car at 6:40. It was funny that a couple sitting near us couldn’t remember where they had left their car and it ended up being the one in front of me! We were out by 7 and then went through quarantine – not a long experience! We drove around Devonport and had some breakfast at an Ice Cream Café (no, we had a cooked breakfast, not ice cream).
Before we left, I tried to get a small hard drive which was on special at Harvey Norman and I couldn’t get in Moorabbin. Guess what – they still had stock in Devonport! After that success, we did some other shopping at Woolworths and then headed to Ulverstone and booked into our motel.
After we prepared and had lunch, Fran rang her friends. WE made arrangements to meet them – one at Cataract Gorge and one at their home. We drove to Launceston, found Cataract Gorge and quickly met one family. While Fran talked, I went on the chairlift (and read it was made by the made by Arthur Seat Chairlift Co., which doesn’t have the best reputation, but AFTER I got off).
Fran wanted to show me the Penny Royal, but it was closed
We went to the home of her other friend and had an enjoyable chat and afternoon tea with them. On our way out of Launceston we called into the RACT – and they didn’t have a map of Tasmania! Although I had the SatNav to guide me, I wanted to mark the roads we travelled as a souvenir. As daylight saving added quite a lot of daylight at the end of the day, we went to the Devil’s gullet and Fran took her first extended walk. It wasn’t too bad. On our way back to Ulverstone we had tea at the Mole Creek Hotel and filled with petrol at Devonport at a cheaper price than Melbourne. After that it was back to the motel and to bed by 11.
Observations from the first day:
am means anti-morning not ante meridian
an “easy walk” means different things
Many people asked me about “DOUG”
The McDonalds Devonport is open 24 hours.
December 29
On our first real day in Tasmania, we woke at 7 and then were woken again by Fran’s alarm at 7:30. Fran didn’t know how to switch the alarm off, so guess what happened each morning? No, I’m not going to tell you, you will have to read it for yourself. We were finally up before 8 and my breakfast was the leftover cold pizza and coke. After normal ablutions, we were packed and left the motel about 9. We shopped in Ulverstone and were able to buy Melbourne papers and specials at the local IGA the same as anywhere else – a pleasant revelation. We left to go to Penguin and spent some time looking around and taking photos on the waterfront. Then we were off to Burnie and had a good look around. We only had a brief look around Wynyard and then drove straight to Smithton. After booking into our motel we unpacked and went down the street and had lunch in a small café in town. While Fran finished her lunch, I wandered around and got some tablets Fran had not been able to get in Adelaide. We then drove back to Stanley, had a look around the town and then drove to the Nut. We went up the chairlift, did the walk around the top (very windy and cool, despite being warm at seal level) and went back on the chairlift. At the shop there, a woman from Belgium was working, so we had a brief discussion on what to see in Belgium – unsurprisingly, each person recommends their own home area. This was followed by a scenic drive around Stanley district and the town. We headed off to Dip Falls (the Big Tree walk was uninviting) and had a look around these very scenic falls. I started into mum’s habit of haranguing the locals and extracting as much information as I could – the falls were very dry, grandparents were taking their grandchildren there and friends were expected for a barbecue that evening, at the falls. After driving back to Smithton, we had a driving look around the town before returning to the motel, put washing on, prepared and had our tea and I did some computer work while watching TV. Most places seemed to have only dial-up Internet, which was useless to me as I wanted to download a lot of photographs. After finishing the washing (complementary), I wrote some postcards (no-one has yet said they have received them!) and was into bed by 10.
December 30
After waking about 7, we left just after 8 and drove down the road to Woolnorth. At the Wind Farm, there was a bus about to do a tour (it’s on private land, so we took it) and because there were some booked no-shows – we were able to participate. We saw the Wind Farm up close, an explanatory display and later went through the old settlement and had morning tea there. We also went to Cape Grim and Cape Woolnorth so we really saw the north-west of Tasmania. We got back to DOUG about 12:30. Then we drove along to Marrawah and had lunch in the pub. This time it was Fran’s turn to interrogate the locals, who we found cam from – Melbourne! We visited Golden Point beach and camping area, then had a leisurely drive back to Smithton via Dismal Swamp. Contrary to its name, the place was not dismal and certainly wasn’t a swamp. A feature was the covered slide, a 115 metre slope which could be slid down (limit of three slides each in the entry price – put on after one child made 28 slides one afternoon – remember he had to climb back up via the path to slide again). The café there was very good, and the view from the toilets grand! After returning to Smithton and a quick shop at Woollies, we had afternoon tea, walked across and along the river and back before having a light tea, and watching the TV news. After that, I shrank my photos and cleared the memory card in the camera (I had forgotten to bring a card reader) and then went to bed and to sleep.
December 31
We woke about 6 but now Fran’s alarm on mobile went off about 6:45. We packed the car and were off by 8. After settling the account, we shopped at Woollies and filled with petrol (Coles Express – Woolworths didn’t have a discount outlet, but there was no Coles store in Smithton – work that one out!). We were off down the Western Explorer! The first part was retracing our steps through Marrawah and straight through to Arthur River. Here I took photos at the bridge (mistake – I covered my trouser legs with seeds) and then went to the “End of the World” – a point very windy and with the “Roaring Forties” really roaring. Here I met a family from Hoppers Crossing who used to live just down the street from me. From them I had the wisdom of booking things reinforced.
We the drove on along Western Explorer proper – generally very good, though it had a few large metal and corrugated sections and a few tight corners with loose metal (one panicked Fran – I need to get the floor pan put back into its correct shape). We arrived at Zeehan about 1:30 but no suitable lunch place was found. We continued into Strahan, confirmed cruise and got paper tickets. It was very hot (36°) so we got lunch and ate it in the car as we headed off to Queenstown. Here an error with mapping in the SatNav was reinforced, as the street numbers were actually the reverse of those programmed into the SatNav. We did eventually find the motel, booked in, unpacked, had a quick walk around the main street of town (it still very warm, found the Herald Sun but not The Age) and then we had tea. Again I had to clear the camera memory card after downloading the pictures and shrinking them (for downloading to Flickr) and then we were off to sleep.
January 1
I awoke suddenly at 6:25 – no alarm went off. That was a false alarm as it went off soon after. We set off early as the cruise was off at 8:30, and we had already found that cruise operators do not wait for latecomers and, with the curving road to Strahan, if we got behind a slow vehicle, we could not pass. We had a good run to Strahan, although at first I panicked as we were behind a small SLOW blue car (but he stopped to look at something and we could pass safely). A problem arose because the ticket parking machine was not working. Fran purchased a parking sticker, then later in the day we found none of the parking machines was working that day. We boarded by 8:10 and were one of the first few, but buses and walkers quickly filled up most seats. We departed at 8:35 and had a very smooth trip. During the cruise we met a couple from Mexico, woman and her son from Warrnambool and family from Gympie. It was a well-narrated tour and there were plenty of opportunities to go out the front, back and on upper decks to take photos or just look around.
AS was my luck, the batteries in my camera went flat just at an historic landing near a boom, so I didn’t get any pictures of it. LESSON – change batteries each day! We walked around at the World Heritage area, then had lunch on board as we returned. During the return trip I chatted with a Scottish man – he and his wife had been out to Australia twice, once up the east coast and now to Tasmania. I fold him about the Nullabour and the Ghan and Indian Pacific train trips. Back at the wharf, we walked around Strahan as Fran not feeling well and had an ice cream. We ran into a Sydney family again, who we initially met at the Woolnorth Wind Farm. Then we drove back to Queenstown through Zeehan and Rosebery, having a good look around each town. We had tea, then walked around town and I took photos. We saw pet and wild rabbits and talked to some locals.
Back at the motel, it was to sleep after organising our Tasmania travel folder.
January 2
After waking at 6:30 and having a cup of tea and breakfast, I wrote up my diary from the last few days. We were packed and ready to leave the motel by just after 8, then filled up with fuel at BP. The drive out was slow, partly because of the winding road and partly because of the other traffic. The scenery was magnificent, especially while we were in the Wilderness Area and we had a good run through to Derwent Bridge (after crossing the Franklin River). We had a stop at Tarraleah and then at Hamilton. Here I managed to get an ice cream and spill a counter display of lollies everywhere while getting a local map. Fran wouldn’t acknowledge me until we left the shop! We then drove up to Strathgordon and, after much searching, eventually found toilets and the information centre. After getting some brochures we headed up further (there really wasn’t too much further to go) and had lunch while looking out over Lake Pedder, at about 2. We went to Gordon Dam, got some photos and I walked across part of the dam wall after doing the 190 steps down and then up. After that, we went through New Norfolk to Hobart. The SatNav sent us to the wrong place (but the correct road) but as a consolation we found cheap fuel. After finally getting to the motel and booked in, we unloaded. We were soon out and had a quick drive around Hobart to get our bearing, then went back to Hungry Jacks at Glenorchy for tea. The next operation was to do a dry run out to Cambridge Airport to suss out for the trip tomorrow morning. It took about 30 minutes. Back at the motel I charged batteries, transferred photos and wrote up diary before going to sleep.
January 3
We were awake at 6:25 and, after ablutions, went over for breakfast. We left at 7:30 to get out on time for our flight with Par Avion – and found that peak hour traffic in Hobart isn’t, by my standards, so we were out well before 8.There were very few others there, so after being weighed, we waited and read. The terminal filled before the flight finally left not long after 8:30. Three planes went out to the same place – Melaleuca Inlet. Three (including us) were on the half-day tour. Four were on the full day tour (which included a four hour walk). The rest were in for either a week or longer, and their packs were HUGE (as there are no supplies of any sort available unless they are flown in). Most were just walking, but one group was a Ph. D. student, his supervisor and the supervisor’s son. They were out for ten days collecting samples for a thesis. One did wear a floppy hat, but none were called “Indiana”, Jones or otherwise. All three planes left full and we flew south over Bruny Island, then along the south coast. At the Inlet, we had morning tea in a bird hide and an orange-bellied parrot arrived outside on cue, followed by his mate. We set off across the airstrip (the topsoil removed to expose white bedrock) and went on a cruise to Bathurst Harbour. This included some dramatic sights. Our return flight was more direct, showing us rugged peaks, tarns, much wilderness and then clearfelled areas of controlled forest. After landing, we went to visit a friend of Fran’s. While Fran chatted, I fixed up my photos and then downloaded quite a few. It was embarrassing then, when the son arrived home and announced that they didn’t have a wireless point – I had just sent about a gigabyte of data through, and now I knew it was through someone else’s connection! We left soon after, went back to the motel, had tea and went to bed, going to sleep while watching TV and after writing up my diary.
January 4
After waking at 6:20 and having breakfast at 7 (we were the first at breakfast most mornings in Hobart), we left at 7:40 to head down south. We had a very good run through Hobart (even though it was peak hour traffic) despite sharing the main roads in Hobart with logging trucks and then had a good run down to Hastings (there were a few houses and very little else there) and on to the caves. There we only a few there, so we booked our cave tour for 10:15 and then walked down to Thermal Pool. This was very nice, an oasis in the forest with excellent surroundings; some families were already in having a swim. We drove slowly down to the caves and then had to wait about 15 minutes before the tour started. Susan was our tour guide (she has only been doing it three weeks) and took our group of 23 through. The cave had nice formations, covered about 400 m to walk, most was up and about down and included 290 steps. We were out by 11:25. On our way out, we chatted with a German family from near Maitland in NSW (they are also coming back on the Spirit of Tasmania on the evening of 11 January). Back at the centre we found it was packed. Morning tea was hot chocolate and then we drove out south down to Cockle Creek, the most southerly point which can be driven to on public roads in Australia. The were many small camps by roadside and a lot of small settlements. We spent a little time at the actual centre of Cockle Creek, then drove back to Geeveston and I got the Melbourne papers and our tickets for the Tehume Airwalk. We looked over the museum of timber there and then drove to the Airwalk. It was very hot, more like Western Australia in summer than Tasmania, so we did the Airwalk and then caught the shuttle back to the centre. After an ice cream and hot chocolate there, we drove out. We went back to Hobart, showered and changed, then went to the Hog’s Breath for tea with the family of Fran’s friend. We had an enjoyable tea and chat, realising that Hobart buildings are designed for cool rather than warm climates. After the meal we drove up to the top of Mt Wellington. Here it was cool and very windy – a dramatic change to the weather only a few minutes before. I walked to the very top, then took some photos from the viewing area. We went back to the motel and changed for bed. It stayed very warm overnight.
January 5
Today was a relatively relaxed day, with rising being delayed until 7:30. It was time to put washing on and have sufficient clothing clean for the rest of the holiday. We had breakfast while washing continued. I wrote up my computer diary and worked on photos while waiting for the clothes to dry. We eventually left about 9:30 and drove into Hobart. After finding a parking space in Macquarie St, we walked to markets. Hot! It was very hot and certainly made things uncomfortable. We walked around and did a little shopping, for ourselves and for others. Like all markets, after a while the thrill wore off and the mundane took over. We drove out to Richmond, had an ice cream and photographed the old bridge. Here we met up with another family from the Spirit of Tasmania. We looked around the town for a model village Fran was after (no success) and bought some other souvenirs. We returned through New Norfolk, did some shopping at Northgate and then went to Fran’s friends for tea and a pleasant evening on a Sandy Bay verandah. Having our hosts water their garden was an experience we on the mainland have not had for years now. We left about 9:30 to return to our motel and retired to sleep.
January 6
After getting up at 6:30 and having our now usual breakfast, we were off to Bruny Island. We arrived at Kettering about 9:30 and were about sixth in line. We paid our $25 ferry fee and then waited until next crossing. I got a paper in the kiosk while waiting (but couldn’t get Melbourne ones) and chatted to others also waiting. I drove on and then got out while crossing. Fran couldn’t get out as the cars were packed in and she couldn’t open her door. The crossing was 15 minutes and we left the ferry as the second vehicle and drove to Dennes Point. The coastal road gave excellent sights as we went across the neck and looked at the penguin rookery and beach. We visited Allonah; there was little there but it had an excellent historical society display. There was no food outlet, so we went on to Lowawannah. We had light lunch there and proceeded down to Cape Bruny lighthouse. It was very windy and cool outside – no cars were in the car park when we arrived but five were there when we left. A pleasant and slow drive through the forest to Adventure Bay gave us a good look around. We headed back to the ferry and had to wait for a return trip (between the scheduled crossings) to get back. We were again on the upper deck and there was enough room for Fran to get out and look around as we crossed. During this time I had a chat with a Lion from Clarence. We should have been about tenth off, but the vehicle in front got a flat on the ferry and the spare he put on was also flat when he went to drive off. The master got him to move up a few metres so all of us in the starboard line could get off. By the time we got back to Hobart it was too late to get the Melbourne papers, but filled up with petrol and got a final car wash as DOUG had accumulated more dust from driving over unsealed roads. Fran rang and changed our bookings so we will stay in Hobart another evening to minimise our driving on Tuesday. Once we were back at the motel, we had tea in the dining-room and then spent some time fixing up pictures, completing diary entries, doing some magazine competition entries and then watching a video on my laptop before going to sleep.
January 7
We followed our now established routine of up at 6:35, breakfast at 7 and leaving about 7:40, heading for Port Arthur. We arrived at 9:10 and moved through quickly, parking in the lowest parking area (the parking bays are far too small) and converting our prepaid tickets into day tickets. We set off on a walking tour almost straight away; this was very good, but very different from the talks when we were there as students in the early 1960s. We looked over the monument at the Broken Arrow café, which was very moving as the events were certainly still fresh in my mind. We went on the harbour cruise at 11. We spent over an hour wandering around and through the buildings and eating lunch and then watched a performance of players behind the penitentiary. We left after putting in a suggestion about water saving. Stops on the way back included the Blowhole (where I gave parents suggestions about how to embarrass young schoolchildren), Tasman’s Arch, Eaglehawk Neck and the Tessellated Pavement (which we did walk down to). Once back in Hobart (Glenorchy) we picked up the Melbourne papers and then went back to our motel. We went over to the dining room for our last tea there (the meals were generous and reasonably priced), then back and packed before going to bed.
January 8
We woke at 6 and got up at 6:45. We packed, had breakfast, settled bill (surprisingly low given the time we stayed and the meals we had) and then left to go to Cadbury’s (only about five minutes away) and parked, then divested ourselves of all extraneous things. Once in, I paid for the tour and we only had to wait a short time before we started. Everyone had to put on paper hats and those with beards also had to put a snood on. The tour was quite good, but not as comprehensive as the last time (1971 with Sunshine West High). We left after buying a few (okay, quite a few) seconds and samples. DOUG was filled with fuel, we got the Melbourne papers and we set off through Sorell for our run up the east coast. We had a look at Swansea, when Fran had been before, and then through to Coles Bay and Freycinet. We looked at the Visitors’ Centre, but the walks were too long for Fran. We returned and looked at Friendly Beach, and went on to Bicheno. We had a quick look around after booking in for a penguin tour for tomorrow night (no spaces available for this evening), I had a milk shake and then we went on to St Helens, where we booked into our motel. After unpacking we had a look around, then did a little shopping and had a rest for a while before having tea at the hotel bistro. I met and chatted to a father and two children from near Midland (WA) and Fran chatted to a woman from Nandaly (near Wycheproof) – small world! The motel has a pool in the centre of the rooms we are in. We had tea at the motel and walked along the beach after, went to bed and watched TV before falling asleep.
January 9
We woke at 6:45 to Fran’s alarm (she still doesn’t know how to stop it!) and then the telephone alarm, which some kind previous resident had left set. I got up and showered and dressed, then walked along the street to the newsagent to get the papers. We had breakfast while reading the papers. We left about 8:40 and drove north to Binalong Bay. It is a typical small seaside settlement – small, cosy and spread-out. We drove out to see some lookouts and at Skeleton Point a couple told us of an exhausted dog which had followed them out of the bush. They left and I got the dog to follow us until there was mobile phone signal. Fran rang the local St Helens newsagency which gave us the local council number. We rang them and gave them the tag number. Five minutes later the owner rang and said she would drive out and pick him up – his name was Boof. In the meantime he drank nearly a litre and a half of water. When she arrived, he readily jumped into her car and went home.
We went to St Marys to see the local scenery and then enjoyed pancakes at Elephant Pass. After that we explored Bicheno and saw our first penguin chick there, only a few metres from the water and next to a public path. We had tea and then I downloaded some pictures at the local café. Then we waited for the penguin tour. We were waiting for “no-shows” so we could join an earlier tour, and made it to a 9:10 tour. It was good as we saw the penguins walk around our feet and there were at least a few hundred that we saw. It was a slow trip back to the motel at St Helens as I avoided a few wallabies and a possum with a baby on its back.
January 10
We slept in a little as time was not so critical now. After a shower and dressing, I walked down to get the papers, then had breakfast. A little shopping at the local Chickenfeed store and we were ready to go. We took the highway to Scottsdale and visited the visitor centre. There was some useful information there, so we digested that and headed off to Bridport. This was another seaside town, but with more commercial fishing. We went back inland and visited the local lavender farm (Bridstowe) – another example of a person with money indulging a hobby and at the same time providing enjoyment for many and employment for a few.
We took the East Tamar Highway and visited George Town – a very pleasant town. After sightseeing, we travelled south and called in to see friends on the outskirts of Launceston. Semi-retired, they live on a few hundred acres in a new home they designed. Then we headed into Launceston and found our motel, booked in and then had tea. After some calls, we headed out to visit friends of Fran’s in the suburbs, then went back for our final night in Tasmania.
January 11
We rose a little later so we could visit the Macaque monkeys in the park opposite where we stayed. After booking out and making sure nothing had been left, we parked at the park and saw the monkeys doing their “monkey” things. Then we drove out of Launceston, picking up the papers on the way. We went along the West Tamar Highway and called in at Brady’s Lookout, then at the museum at Beaconsfield. This was interesting as it was next to the still-operating local gold mine (famous from the recent tragedy). We went to Greens Beach to visit other friends of Fran in their holiday shack (which they are renovating) and had morning tea with them, on the beach (about 40 metres from their front gate, through the bush).
We left, had lunch, and then leisurely drove to Devonport. After a little browsing in the local shops, and then a relaxing time under the trees on the esplanade, we had an early tea and went to the Spirit of Tasmania by 6. After the quick inspection, we lined up and then boarded the ship not long after 6:30. This time we were on G6, so expected to get off more quickly. Our seats were A21 and A20, so we had the entire window view of the stern to ourselves. The forecast was for a slightly rougher night, but in the end the voyage was quite smooth and we entered the heads not long before 5 and docked on schedule at 6. We were off before 6:20, filled the car with fuel at the foot of West Gate and then headed off to Adelaide to drop Fran off.
Our Tasmania holiday was over.
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