4 February

An interesting day dawned. The alarm went off, but I couldn’t find it. Eventually I did, under a book. The two had slid off the bed during the night. I got myself ready to face the day, then went to the AMTRAK station to see what the news was. We had been told that we could check back at 7, but even by 7:30 there was no sign of life inside, but plenty outside. A queue (funny about that) had formed outside with members discussing the various shortcomings of AMTRAK and customer service. Finally at about 7:40 the doors opened (but from the other end to the queue, so the system was mucked up before it started).
The assistant made an announcement: “There will be a bus leaving at 7:55. It is nearly fully booked already – it may look empty but there are reservations from people along the way. Some of you may be able to get onto it. There will be special buses leaving at about 10. One will go to Sacramento. It will stop at points along the way. The other two buses will take passengers to points beyond there.” I asked about the train and was told I could get on, but it was 11 hours late and not due until 6. In one way I hope it gets further delayed (or makes up a lot of time) so I can see this famous pass in light.
I returned to my hotel and put the next part of my plan into action. Souvenirs and brochures, by now somewhat heavy and bulky, were to be posted to Fran, so she could get the souvenirs for herself and the boys out and see other things I had collected. I put them all together, removing cards which bore the names and addresses of those I would contact while travelling. I headed off to the Post Office, a four storey imposing building – with ONE clerk on duty. We worked out the cheapest way to send them, so I managed to get them into the parcel size and then stood in line again to actually post it. Here I met my first “conspiracy theorist” – she was convinced the government was reading all her mail, checking all she spent and generally trying to maintain surveillance while also trying to drive her mad. I didn’t know what to say, so I just ummed and ahhed non-committally. When I put in the address tag (because I couldn’t list an address here and it seemed pointless to have the US Post Office deal with me when I wasn’t at home), I went to show my passport to explain why I couldn’t put an address and also to establish my bona fides – but it was not required. At a cost of $37, it was far better than trying to carry all these T-shirts (except the one I had to wear in Chicago) and brochures and maps around and then having to pay excess baggage charges when flying (or buying another bag to put everything into). I wandered back to the hotel, but called into a casino to have breakfast. I accidentally chose the same place as I had my meal the night before. The same cook was on, but changing over. The new cook took my order and chatted to me (business was quiet). He had been to Perth (with the USMC, on exercises) years ago, and had worked in many places around the US. The linguistic variety of the states amazes me and he made it more interesting by not only describing but also using the different words and accents. I found that Boston, Washington and St Louis were the only self-governing cities in the US. I also found that even hamburgers are different depending upon where in the US you buy them (McDonalds and Burger King not withstanding).
I finally got back to my hotel to find I was missing a glove. Considering all I have with me and the times I have had to put things down and pick them up, I don’t consider that too bad. I will get a new pair of gloves when I am in the car – the shopping list grows.
So far I have to – look at a SuperWalMart; find what biscuits are equivalent to what I would have at home (after describing Teddy Bears, Tim Tams and others, I fond myself really missing them, even though I wouldn’t normally have eaten them); buy good and warm gloves; get some soap powder (as the washing is high on the list, having only about five more days changes left) and then find a Laundromat; get some bread, toast it and have real toast and vegemite; get some more postcards to send to people at home (I’ve got two ready, but I now have to find a place to post them and the blue US Post Office letter receivers are not as easy to see as red ones (nor as plentiful)) and look at what real prices are because I’ve only travelled in the centres of cities where the cost of living is never cheap.
Some observations are:
no dual-flush toilets – little idea of water-saving;
seen many places with shingles (the little wooden tiles on roofs, not the painful nerve disease);
cars in snow-bound areas have a lot of damage;
most people are very polite and courteous.
Some differences are that:
service personnel are not treated equal by customers and do not have an egalitarian attitude to their customers;
there are an incredible number of people doing menial jobs;
AMTRAK is starved of funds and cannot do its job properly (but then I was told that if it does its job properly and makes money, it has to be sold as the US government is committed to not running successful enterprises against free enterprise);
people are publicly tolerant of bad service but privately intolerant;
married people refer to their spouses as “she” or “he” despite the fact they are sitting next to them, rather than by their name;
so far people in public places have been incredibly honest in relation to other people’s property.

At not long after 11:30 the waiting room was completely empty and the last bus was due to leave. Rick had gone on the bus as, at the moment, it looks as though our travel through the Sierras will be in darkness. This large public space is heated to a comfortable 20°C with only me in it (it holds forty seated and would comfortably accommodate up to 200). What a waste of energy! Other public spaces are heated to at least as much, and employees work in their shirtsleeves, while the public disrobe after entering and robe again before leaving (so outside feels colder than it really is).

I managed to write three letters to post (you know, using a writing implement on a smooth thin white sheet called paper, then placed in a folded and glued larger piece of paper and again written on and having a small adhesive piece of very expensive paper called a stamp put in the corner) and finished them by about 2, with minor interruptions of showing people where the toilets (whoops, restrooms) were and a toddler being shown trains by his nanna. For variety, I went downstairs to the other waiting room which was warmer (I would have said too warm). After a few minutes, some ladies going east (I’m the only one going west) looked after my luggage and I walked to the Post Office and posted the letters. Now, at 3:40, I’m entering my second phase of waiting.

As an aside, I really do enjoy writing real letters. The only problem is they take a lot of time and only one at a time can receive them. But the sheer pleasure of knowing that you have enriched the life of another (unless they take one look at the letter and scrunch it up and put it into the rubbish) is worth it. Which is aesthetically more pleasing – scrunching or pressing the delete button?

There have been more freight trains through, although one is standing in the station at the moment. The line must be clear, but the backlog of traffic will take some time to clear. In this waiting room, level with the tracks (no platforms here), were are about 30 feet below street level, so I can’t even hope to find an open wireless network to see if I can hitch a ride on it.

I listened to the iPod for a little time but then got engaged in discussion about Australia with the lady who had offered to keep an eye on my luggage. I showed her a range of photos and then the others joined in. The east-bound train (Number 6) arrived in at 5:30 and so my temporary companions left. I was only in solitary for a few moments as others had arrived and I started talking with them. It was a family group including a grandfather who had been given the trip as a Christmas present. We chatted away on a variety of topics until Niel and Patricia, the sports people from yesterday, arrived. The conversation became more interesting and intense and the time melted away until at about 10:40 the train finally arrived. We were fooled because it was being drawn by a freight locomotive. The delays were from cumulative delays due to freight, engine problems, a different engine being substituted and the crew being out of shift time and the changeover crew having to drive from Reno down to Sparks. I got on to the coach cars (apparently I should have rebooked, but the station staff just said to use the same ticket), and after finishing writing this up, I went to the lounge car and then finally to sleep.