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!