Saree, What Did You Say?

Groom looking skeptical about donning a wedding turban. Got vetoed. Too bad.

Groom looking skeptical about donning a wedding turban. Got vetoed. Too bad.

 

Once we were settled at the hotel, shopping for the wedding began! The first day we shopped for the men and got them pretty much outfitted in one go. Done and done.

Unbeknownst to the female American contingent, our Indian hosts had purchased wedding sarees, bangles, and matching jewelry for us before we arrived; they were all very beautiful and it was a great honor to receive them as gifts. However, most of us needed to buy additional clothes for the mehndi (moderately formal) and the wedding night dinner reception (evening formal), and the bride needed to buy several sarees for different parts of the wedding. Interestingly, some were later formally presented to her as “gifts” after she chose them–relatives gave money for them in what seems to be in Indian version of the wedding trousseau.

We girls soon discovered we were in for a more labor-intensive shopping experience than the guys. Saree shopping for the bride took us to several different stores, plus shopping in India requires stamina, determination, and the ability to keep calm while surrounded by store personnel….and I do mean surrounded.

Clothing stores in India have more floor personnel than the Apple Store–no exaggeration–and they swarm around new customers, especially those that appear to be looking for high-ticket bridal wear. I got boxed into an aisle by three employees while I was browsing some shawls; that made me a bit claustrophobic and reluctant to do any further shopping for the rest of the trip.

Most of us Westerners felt the same way about this highly attentive approach. I assume this is just employees competing for commissions, but Americans used to some autonomy and space while shopping, so having a salesperson or five on your six felt really high-pressure. This tactic ended up (in our case, anyway) being counterproductive, as most of us backed out of the shopping fray as soon as possible–no income from impulse buys here.

 

Saree Counter @ Kajree Clothing Store, Pune

Saree Counter @ Kajree Clothing Store, Pune

 

Though you can get “pre-made” sarees, the majority of them are sold as flat layers of fabric, two of which are then tailored or “stitched” into the choli (blouse) and petticoat. These sarees are six yards in length (a traditional Maharastran saree is nine yards–we saw a few older rural women wearing them), with inner layers of different colors and some edging to be stitched into the blouse. The fancy edge on top of the saree is the pallu, which ends up draped over the shoulder.

You can’t just pull sarees down off the shelves yourself and start pawing through the layers, however. Salespeople flock and a flurry of flopping fabric starts filling the counter in front of you. Other employees start folding and reshelving the rejects when the pile gets too high.

Most of the interactions occurred in Marathi so we didn’t understand what was being said, but we could understand the process pretty well. It helps to be an absolute shopping diva like the bride’s mom. I was in awe of her ability to get what she wanted without dithering or fuss. It was clear to me that if you don’t grab the steering wheel of the saree shopping bus, you’ll get run over–or suffocated in a pile of prospective purchases.

At one of the stores we went into a special room to be shown hand-woven silk sarees. These were the most beautiful fabrics I have ever seen. We took off our shoes to enter and sat on the edge of a cushioned mat as saleswomen started pulling sumptuous, luscious iridescent fabrics out of the closet behind them; glorious colors and textures that seemed to glow with a light of their own.

 

Handwoven silk sarees. Yum.

Handwoven silk sarees.

Glorious.

Glorious colors, all changing under the light.

More handwoven silk sarees, all iridescent and finely embroidered.

More handwoven silk sarees, all iridescent and finely embroidered. Peacocks and flowers are popular motifs.

Very hard to choose. I think this one made the cut.

Very hard to choose. I think this one made the cut.

 

A few days later, we went to the seamstress to be measured so our blouses could be stitched. We were handed pattern catalogs to choose the style we wanted:

 

Pattern catalog for saree blouses.

Pattern catalog for saree blouses.

 

More blouse patterns.

More blouse patterns.

 

Most of us older guests wanted the longest blouse with the most coverage possible. It took some looking, and we only had a couple days for many blouses to be stitched so we were urged to choose simpler designs (which was fine by us).

 

At the seamstress, looking at sarees before measurements were taken.

At the seamstress, looking at sarees before measurements were taken.

 

A day or two before the wedding we tried on our blouses, but we didn’t get to try on our full ensembles until the wedding day. Saree wrapping is a little complicated and there are many styles, but thankfully some of the female relatives volunteered to help get us USians dressed.

Though the positioning of the pallu is critical to the look it was explained to me that the pleats in the front were the most important part–the most difficult to fold and also the hardest to maintain all day. I was admonished to tie my petticoat very tight so the pleats would stay tucked in. During the day I kept hitching them up so I wouldn’t walk on them, and various female Indian family members would stop to pull them down. You wear these things right down to the floor–no ankles allowed–and have to be mindful to lift the pleats when you go up and down stairs so you don’t step on and unravel them.

And yes, it’s fair play to use safety pins. I am told Indian women use them too.

Unfortunately Samuel wasn’t around to film my wrapping process and I couldn’t call him (don’t even get me started about the multiple SIM card comedies that beset our group all through the wedding week) but if you want to see how complex it is to properly wrap a saree, this video may give you a clue:

 

 

I know you’re dying to see the final result. Here it is:

 

Pleats, pallu, mehndi, bindi.

Pleats, pallu, mehndi, bindi.

Me and my palloo.

Me and my pallu.

 

Thankfully it seemed we were all well wrapped, as none of us had a dreaded wardrobe malfunction during the event. All the members of the American contingent were to take a turn at a “ramp walk” to show off our clothing at the post-wedding reception and talent show, and thanks to the excellent taste of the bride and the bride’s mom–and their monster mad shopping skillz–we were greeted with hearty applause.

 

The bride's handwoven silk saree at the evening reception, plus bangles.

The bride’s handwoven silk saree at the evening reception, plus bangles.

Water, Water Everywhere (But Don’t Count On It)

One of the most important items I forgot to mention re: being prepared for India is WATER. It’s an entire logistical problem unto itself, both for the traveler and Indian nationals–especially since this year’s monsoon rains were late and sparse, seen as a sign of global warming with possible permanent impacts on India’s rural subsistence farmers.

Rural pawpaw stand and trees, Aurangabad-Pune highway, India

Rural pawpaw stand and trees, Aurangabad-Pune highway, India

Water is an issue here. As a tourist, one is advised to not only to avoid drinking from taps or opening one’s mouth in the shower, but to be mindful that one hasn’t been rooked into buying bottled water in a refilled bottle sealed with SuperGlue (apparently a big business). Due to rivers, wetlands, and rains, mosquitoes abound, so malaria prevention becomes a mandate. High-volume rainstorms bluster in quickly so raingear and camera bags need to be kept handy–a novelty for those of us from SoCal, where “rain” is just drizzle that makes your car sticky and dusty-looking.

Once one has drinkable water, one has to drink it. Obvious, but it’s easy to get dehydrated in the 90+ degree heat with equally high humidity, especially when sightseeing. I got caught short without enough water when we toured the World Heritage Site temple caves in Aurangabad and paid for it for the next twelve hours. Dehydration is a painful drained feeling that’s hard to describe, a combo of headache, lethargy, and nausea, and it can take a long time to recover even after water is administered.

Our hotels provide two small water bottles for free each day, but we realized after this event we needed to pony up for more. Samuel now nags me several times a day to drink more, especially when we’re running around in the heat.

The monsoon is technically over (though we were rained out of a lovely outdoor dinner the other night) so Indian wedding season has begun and billboards featuring wedding sarees and jewelry are everywhere. Tonight is the mehndi party, the official beginning of the wedding itself, where the women’s hands are painted with ritual designs.

We’re trying to get our act together–it’s a fairly formal evening affair, and Samuel’s new party outfit has gone astray between here and the tailor. We need to retrieve it somehow in the next few hours or Samuel will need to wear his wedding kurta to the mehndi, evidently an Indian party foul.

It’s tough to communicate with our hosts with sim-card craziness and constant schedule shuffling, plus now being into the wedding events proper we don’t want to cause a bother. Will let you know if we solve the Mystery Mehndi Clothing Problem soon!

india truck with cattle saree billboard small

Dust, Dancing, Shopping, and Sugar: Our First Days in India

Howdy (or Namaskaar, or Namaste) y’all:

We’ve been here a week and have been too busy/exhausted/sick to post, but today we have a free morning and I’m taking a minute to post an update so you don’t worry we’re dead.

The flight from L.A. was long and (for me) particularly brutal as I got a Big Banger of a headache that lasted pretty much the whole way. Overpreparer that I am, I had Advil and protein bars at the ready in my carry-on, so I was able to take the pain down to a dull roar for most of the flight. I regretted not bringing a neck pillow, as “sleeping” cramped in a coach seat was frustratingly uncomfortable; once our section was finally asleep, everyone was awakened by a loud, long conversation in the aisle right next to us. Many were more than grumpy but no one said anything, mostly because we weren’t sure what would be effective.

Between the sleepless crankies, the headache, and United’s crappy selection of hundreds of mediocre movies, the flight became a floating steel-encapsulated living Hell. This was not an auspicious start to our adventure, but we tried to remain as upbeat as our exhaustion allowed.

———–

We were late into Mumbai, arriving at about 9:30 pm, but our hosts were awaiting us at the airport with flowers nonetheless, along with drivers to take us to our hotel. We had to wait another couple hours for the bride and groom’s flight, also late; we finally staggered into the van headed for Pune around 1 am.

After 24 hours in air transit you’d think 3-4 hours more on the road would be a mere annoyance. IT WAS TERRIFYING. Everything you’ve ever heard about driving in India is true–probably even worse than you’ve heard.

Most drivers start their journeys at night (due to the heat, most trucks are not air-conditioned) so the road was packed, with dust and exhaust fumes swirling in the headlights as we careened towards our hotel.

Soon my airplane headache was compounded by carsickness and the dreadful certainty that we would die. In India, lane markings are simply ignored. Trucks cut traffic between lanes at high speeds while honking repeatedly to cue other vehicles to edge away. Motorcycles zip from one lane to another while larger vehicles brake and swerve with mere inches of clearance. Cars, trucks, and motorcycles stop randomly in the middle of the road for a smoke-o while others drive on the dirt shoulder at full speed to get around them. We were not surprised to learn that India has the highest traffic mortality rate in the world. We were surprised we didn’t end up as part of that statistic.

Note: I managed to get some footage to be used as forensic evidence should we all die en route, but sadly I won’t be able to upload it until I get back due to an operating system issue. Look for exciting action-packed commuting videos on Facebook after our return!

We got into our hotel around 4 am and slept a little. Trying to negotiate a developing nation on a couple hours sleep is no picnic. Still, we had a schedule so we did what we had to do.

Bleary-eyed, we poked around the hotel in the morning as a) we were exhausted and b) had been warned not to go anywhere without an Indian escort (if you think driving in India is bad, try crossing a street). We’re staying at what’s considered a mid-level hotel, but some words of advice if you should attempt India in future:

1. In addition to providing flowers, our hosts put a gift basket in our hotel room with cookies and Indian snacks like moong dal, or deep-fried lentils. This was helpful, as the hotel restaurant was open limited hours and access to food/caffeine was restricted.

2. Food access becomes an issue if you are taking Malarone (anti-malarial pills) as the drug messes with your gut during its entire transit through your system. ‘Nuff said.

3. Speaking of guts: bring your own toilet paper, bar soap, toothpaste, sewing kit, shampoo, etc. Most of the stuff you take for granted at a motel in the States you’re not assured here even in a “business hotel.” Thankfully our rooms had Western-style toilets, not the case at many of the historic sites we visited.

3. Indian food contains a lot of grease and starch and can make one feel pretty bloaty, an effect amplified if you are (wisely) avoiding raw food. Most places have tons of “veg” items; you’re not going to see beef or pork anywhere–only chicken, lamb, and sometimes fish.

Hotels serve alcohol but most places won’t have it as it’s strictly regulated (and many religiously observant folks don’t drink). You can find Starbucks in the bigger cities, but most coffee you’ll encounter is instant. Tea is normally served mixed with hot buffalo milk so it’s also quite rich.

Finally, Indians love their sugar but their treats have different tastes and textures than ours (especially the chocolate, so bring your own if you know you’ll have a craving for a specific something). I can leave most of the pastries alone–there are English style cookies, thanks to Empress Victoria and the Raj, wot wot–but I have fallen in love with chikki, the Indian version of peanut brittle made with jaggery, or unrefined sugar.

4. Our room was fitted with a “magic eye,” i.e. a video camera that allows women who are staying alone see who is knocking at the hotel room door. This is helpful in a country notorious for violence against women–and recently, for horrible rapes of foreigners–and for religious females (like the one on our plane who requested to be reseated because she was sitting between two men).

5. Reading the locally-produced newspaper is helpful for starting conversations with the locals, who are usually happy to contextualize news items you’re interested in. They usually appreciate your interest in their country and culture too. It’s sad how many tourists resist getting their feet wet, culturally speaking (though often they end up doing so in Asian “starting block”-style toilets. Bring your own TP for those too.)

6. Tech here is really, really spotty. Our hotel had a “business center” and wireless service in-room, but the connections weren’t reliable and download speeds very slow. Part of the reason we’ve not been posting is that every page download takes forever.

As a result, most hotel records are kept on paper; we had to provide passport and visa copies a couple times upon arrival even though they had been submitted in advance.

7. Indians are for the most part friendly, polite, and gracious, but if you’re out in public you have to watch your wallet and belongings like a hawk (we keep our documents and cash in a neck wallet under our clothes; our hosts thought this was such a good idea they bought their own).

Also when you’re in public expect to have people stop you and ask to take your picture–they often just take your picture without your permission anyway. Then expect to have anyone else in the vicinity to pile in for their own photos, delaying your progress.

—————————-

SHOPPING, DANCING, PHOTOS

The next day we went wedding clothes shopping for the groom and male guests. It was intense and exhausting. I took a lot of photos before I noticed the “No Photography” sign in the store (they’re in most clothing stores)–whoops. My hostess said nobody really cares, but I hate giving the nationals more contempt for stupid Americans. I got a few nice photos in exchange for the dose of embarrassment, I guess.

It was also the last day of Navratri, a nine-day festival celebrating the victory of the goddess Durga over the demon Mahishasura. On that night is the Dandiya, a colorful folk dance from Gujarat, where you dance with sticks and clack them together as you whirl around. Large dances are organized with competitions for the best dancers. We saw much great happy clattering and spinning around, and some of us were invited to join in. The young dancers we encountered were all very sweet and seemed to have fun teaching us the moves.

The tenth day of the festival is Dussehra, where businesses and tools of trade are decorated with leaves and garlands.

Here are some photos of those holiday doings, and I’ll post more about our recent adventures soon. We’re in Aurangabad now but have to get up really early to get back to Pune tomorrow for the final wedding preparations (Mehendi!)

View from our hotel. The blue barrels catch rainwater, and we could see the women fetching buckets to take indoors in the morning.

View from our hotel. The blue barrels catch rainwater, and we could see the women fetching buckets to take indoors in the morning.

Political rally. State parliamentary elections are next week and it's fierce. Women marched separately from men.

Political rally. State parliamentary elections are next week and it’s fierce. Women marched separately from men.

Roadside stand selling garlands and flower petals for the holiday.

Roadside stand selling garlands and flower petals for the holiday.

Poster for wedding kurtas for men.

Poster for wedding kurtas for men.

Western style meets Desi wear. Note ornamental "pocket square" for wedding kurta.

Western style meets Desi wear. Note ornamental “pocket square” for wedding kurta.

More wedding kurtas for men.

More wedding kurtas for men.

These two ladies work at the clothing store and have just completed this beautiful mandala made with flower petals and sand. Many businesses create these at the entrance for holiday blessings.

These two ladies work at the clothing store and have just completed this beautiful mandala made with flower petals and sand. Many businesses create these at the entrance for holiday blessings.

Motorcycles in front of the store decorated with garlands (most cars, trucks, and entrances to businesses are garlanded too).

Motorcycles in front of the store decorated with garlands (most cars, trucks, and entrances to businesses are garlanded too).


Dandiya. I think I have film of this too, but will know after I get home. See the sticks? It was fun.

Dandiya. I think I have film of this too, but will know after I get home. See the sticks? It was fun.

A group of young dancers who graciously invited us into their circle and taught us the moves. The dance and the attire come from the state of Gujarat, to the north of our present position in Maharashtra ("The Great State").

A group of young dancers who graciously invited us into their circle and taught us the moves. The dance and the attire come from the state of Gujarat, to the north of our present position in Maharashtra (“The Great State”).

Roadside shrine to Durga, set up by neighborhood groups with local donations. There were large shrines too with long lines outside.

Roadside shrine to Durga, set up by neighborhood groups with local donations. There were large shrines too with long lines outside.

Some neighborhood have overhead signs, like gateways, at their entrances. Not sure this one was permanent but it sure is festive!

Some neighborhood have overhead signs, like gateways, at their entrances. Not sure this one was permanent but it sure is festive!

India 2014: No Rails, New Adventure

We’re both in the midst of packing anxiety and have started a few days early measuring suitcases, copying ID documents, and making props for our shadow puppet show. In reality we started months ago getting shots, watching documentaries, and getting together visas/rupees/clothing for this journey, but now as our flight looms the frenzy begins.

It’s a long journey: first to Newark, then on to Mumbai, then 3-4 hours by private bus to Pune, and I’m anticipating the first couple days after we land will be brutal. We’re going for a friend’s wedding–a pair of friends who were initially wedding clients that I married civilly here, and who are now journeying to the bride’s ancestral home for a more traditional Indian ceremony. It was a tough decision whether to go–I’ve always wanted to go to India and it seemed a huge advantage to go with someone who knew the country, rather than a tourist jaunt–but work, allergies, a sick kitty, money, etc. made us pause. We decided to go for it, damn the expense, and our poor Daphne passed away before we had to worry finding good care for her while we were gone.

So today I’m getting this blog and my laptop set up–I’m going to have to continue to work as best I can, and that means retrieving email–and doing a preliminary packing job to see if there are any big problems. I’m hoping my suitcase will be fairly empty so it can come back full of saris, gifts, and tea (we’ll be buying our wedding clothes there, plus bringing home a few items for friends and neighbors).

Things I’m most apprehensive about:

Getting there. The initial transit will be more than 24 hours, and exhausting, plus worries about more nutjobs setting fires at airports and Ukrainian missiles and Icelandic volcanoes delaying or canceling our flights. This isn’t such a big deal going over, but coming back I have a wedding three days after I get home, so that makes me a bit anxious though a delay that long is exceedingly unlikely.

Being there. We’ve been warned: keep tight hold of valuables. Don’t smile at people. Don’t go anywhere alone, or out at all at night if you can avoid it. Don’t drink bottled water unless you’re certain it’s the real stuff from the factory, not resold bottles refilled at taps and glued shut (a booming industry, we understand). Don’t eat street food. Plus, the emotional strain of being immensely privileged in the midst of intense poverty.

For me, one more big fear: breathing. I just had sinus surgery three weeks ago and though I’ve been cleared by my ENT for travel (and he goes regularly to Rajasthan to operate on kids with cleft palates there) both he and my hostess raised concerns about dust and dryness. I bought three cotton/silk scarves at the thrift store today to wear as emergency dust masks.

Getting home on time. For work, as I mentioned. There’s an additional part of this trip planned at a wildlife sanctuary, but we couldn’t take the extra two weeks off. In a way, I’m relieved–the group will be taking an overnight train ride to another state and it may be a harrowing experience. Those of you who have traveled to Rough Guide countries know the kind of thing: sleeping with your head on your valuables, locking and tying down as much as you can, etc.

Things I’m most looking forward to:

The wedding rituals. I’ve never had mehndi (the hennaing of delicate patterns on the hand and feet before a wedding) though many of my clients have sported it at their weddings. I’ve been invited to participate in that, as well as shopping for Indian wedding wear (! those of you who know me know that shopping is something I abhor). We Americans are performing at the wedding reception, a traditional Indian practice where guests present songs, dances, and sketches in honor of the bridal couple. I’m sure we’ll suck, but if you can’t give your overseas hosts something to mock you for as an American, surely you are failing a basic principle of your U.S. citizenship.

Mehndi. Photo by John and Colette Photography, used with permission.

Mehndi. Photo by John and Colette Photography, used with permission.

The wedding itself. It will be educational and interesting to see a real Hindu priest perform the real deal in real India (though I’ve been warned the ceremony is long and sort of informal by American standards, I’m thrilled!)

Having my mind blown. It’s been a long time since I’ve traveled to a country that turns my routine thoughts and habits upside-down. Though it will be difficult to process the profound suffering one can’t help but see, India will be a whirl of new ideas, images, feelings, and people….and though I’m sure I’ll be overwhelmed physically and mentally by it all, I can’t wait. —eliz.

The Final Summary: Please Wave At Trains, and Other Travel Advice

I like that people wave at trains–not just kids do it, but lots of grown-ups too.  Right after we departed Los Angeles on our first day, a few miles out from Union Station, a construction guy climbing on a cement freeway pylon turned from his work and waved to us.  It made us feel good, and seemingly him too.  It was a sweet thing to do for people who were just passing by.

Waving at trains is a gesture of camaraderie and support, a momentary ticker-tape parade saying “Hooray for Adventure!”  There’s something very companionable about it: a welcome to the community (no matter how quickly the visitor may rumble through) and an expression of good wishes for their journey.  How often do we take a sec to say, “Hello, and best of luck!” to a perfect stranger?  Waving at trains is a way to high-five as we roll along our merry way to the future, whatever it may be.

I encourage you to wave at trains, to take a moment to signal your approval to the lonely traveler.  And who knows? That traveler may stop and become your neighbor–a wave may become a handshake, or something more.

If nothing else, waving at a train is a benediction, a gift; glimpse the lives passing by and raise your hand in peace and solidarity with them.  Life is short and full of trouble, so why not offer as many people as you can this brief blessing as they go by?  It costs nothing, and to quote Langston Hughes (painted on our room wall at McMenamin’s) “dig and be dug in return.”  So bless, and be blessed, as you go on your way.

Mummers Museum, Philadelphia PA

DOS AND DONTS FOR TRAIN TREKKING ACROSS THE USA

I’ve made a list of things to keep in mind should you want to take a train trip of your own.  Feel free to drop a line if you have questions….

DO assess what kind of weather, events, and level of population density you like before you block out time and make your plans.  We thoroughly enjoyed empty towns in the cold weather of April, even if we missed a few cool attractions that weren’t open for high season yet.  We dug the rough weather and came prepared for it, but if you’re a “Spring Break in Fort Lauderdale” type, the cold, rain, and snow we deliberately encountered might be your nightmare.

If you’re going to want to be in the heat and the thick of offerings like Mardi Gras, Riverwalk, and The Dells, find out when big events are happening and plan around them.  Bear in mind that the North stays cold longer than the South, so their events and attractions don’t get rolling until June.  Obviously you won’t be the only one who enjoys summer fun, so book well in advance (and take sunscreen.)

DON’T try to book your Amtrak schedule online!!!   The interface is a malinformative, frustrating mess.  Call the Amtrak phone reps (and call back, if you get someone inexperienced) to make your reservations and purchases by phone.  It’s the least agonizing way but still won’t be easy.  You have to book EACH PERSON’S TRAVEL SEPARATELY! even if it’s the same itinerary.  Moronic, yes, but what it is.  Be patient and eventually you’ll get ‘er done.

DO stay at inns, B&Bs, and mom ‘n’ pop joints instead of big hotels if you want the full-on American immersion experience.  TripAdvisor.com is useful in figuring out the locations and amenities, though be prepared to spend substantial time researching and emailing.

If you prefer to be far from the madding crowd rather than part of it, you might want to make reservations at the larger, more impersonal hotels (or just have your travel agent do it for you if you don’t have time to investigate other options.)

DON’T expect a luxury experience with Amtrak.  It’s not an elegant way to travel–in fact, in some ways the opposite, kinda downmarket, and the bathrooms get kind of gross on the second day of a segment.  Trains aren’t a good choice if you’re a germphobe.

However, if immersion is what you’re looking for, you’ll get it–both in the landscape of our country and the people that live there.  You’ll see the poor side of town from your train window, and you will have to socialize with other train passengers during meals unless you invest in a roomette and order your meals “to go” from the dining car (which you can do, and your attendant can even deliver them on request.)

If you dream of the luxurious days of wood-paneled railroad cars with buckets of champagne and caviar inside, skip Amtrak entirely and contact one of the private railcar associations: http://www.aaprco.com/ or http://www.rpca.com/, or search for one of the many historical train enthusiast societies.  You may be able to hitch a ride on an antique traincar or even charter one for yourself; otherwise, you’ll have to content yourself with a copy of your favorite train porn, be it “Murder on the Orient Express” or “On The Twentieth Century,” while squirreled away in a corner on the Amtrak train.

DO bring “train shoes,” i.e. slip-ons with rubber soles.  Amtrak requires that you wear rubber-bottomed shoes while walking around the train, but it’s likely during a long segment you’ll want to get out of your street shoes into something more comfortable.  Train shoes let you walk to the restroom or cafe car without having to lace up the boots again; I bought some slippers at a CVS in New Orleans that worked just fine as an alternative to my high-tops.

DO bring healthy snacks and think about alternate meals if you’re not into eating the way America eats: that is, high-fat, high-salt, high-sugar cafeteria-style food.  That’s what Amtrak will give you three times a day–it’s included in your fare if have a roomette or suite–and on long segments it’s hard not to eat the stuff just out of boredom.  Plan ahead if you have special dietary needs, because Amtrak can’t accommodate much deviation from the pre-processed microwaved meals it serves.

DON’T pack your schedule.  Give yourself ample time to arrive and settle in at each destination, and take a few hours to wander around in your surroundings.  Some of the best stuff we saw was off the beaten path and FREE (like the Forevertron.)  In most towns we enjoyed hanging out just having coffee and people-watching–well, if it was good coffee, like in New Orleans or Portland–much more than we enjoyed some of the much-vaunted “must-see” tourist rip-off sites.

DO invest in good wireless technology if you need bandwidth, or leave the gadgets at home if you can get by with intermittent stops at internet cafes at your destination.   Our cellular USB modem thingy by BroadbandToGo worked great on the train when there was cell network available outside, but there was NO connection in most of Texas, Alabama, Mississippi, North Dakota, Montana, or while traversing mountain ranges or expansive nature preserves.  Amtrak doesn’t offer wireless, sorry–and the way their budget is, they won’t be anytime soon.  Amtrak roomettes do have an AC plug though, so at least you can charge your phone or laptop while you’re traveling.

BTW, general travel note: we found out a lot of the smaller hotels/inns that offer free wireless as part of their amenities also block Port 25 so you can’t retrieve email (and they often will have no clue what you’re talking about if you mention it.)  Fortunately I brought my tech support with me and he was able to tunnel into my email account when the need got urgent, but don’t expect to be so lucky if you need email access while you’re out of town.

DO bring all necessary drugs, even over-the-counter ones, since you may not be able to go purchase them when you need them (Amtrak’s cafe car has aspirin and Pepto Bismol for sale, but that’s about it.)  Be sure to stock up on girl-meds and allergy reducers, and also your chosen caffeine.  You get spoiled here in L.A. when it comes to joe (and super-spoiled in New Orleans and Portland if you like wicked dark and gritty high-octane coffee like I do.)  Be forewarned you’ll get paltry, headache-inducing coffee on the train as well as most train stations, small towns, and all of Texas.  Pack your own brewsticks if good java is important to your well-being; sleeper cars have hot water available (though don’t expect ceramic cups anywhere onboard except the Coast Starlight line.)

And smokers beware: Amtrak trains are smokefree, and you can only smoke on SOME station stops, normally only once or twice a day.  Nonsmokers beware too: if you step off the train to get a breath of fresh air during a stop, you’ll get a dose of second-hand smoke instead.  You’ll have to breathe when you get to your destination, so be sure you plan accordingly if you like clean, pure O2.

DO tip your porter–excuse me, railcar attendant–and dining car servers. Though don’t ask us how much….this came to us as a bit of a surprise and we probably way overtipped because that’s how we roll.  At least I hope we did.  We didn’t get negative feedback about it, anyway.

The attendants vary in how attentive they are; they will help you stow your luggage when you get onboard and normally convert your roomette into nighttime bunks, and will get you meals or water if you ask.  Some travelers tip when they first meet the attendant (I guess to assure prompt service) and some when they deboard.  Your call.

So enjoy your journey along with your vacation, and here’s the entire “Motto” by Langston Hughes, thanks again to the artists at McMenamin’s:

I play it cool
And dig all jive
That’s the reason
I stay alive.

My motto,
As I live and learn,
is:
Dig And Be Dug
In Return.”


Great advice for living both on and off the rails, don’t you think?

"Motto" @ McMenamin's

Safe travels, y’all….and don’t forget to wave.

Elizabeth Oakes

May 9th 2010, Los Angeles, CA

PS Love and props to Samuel, who planned this trip and without whom it would have been a meaningless morass of miles.  xoxxo <3

Portland Envy; Cascading Home

We stayed at one of the many McMenamin’s inns in the Portland/Greater Oregon area; these crazy brothers have made a mint buying historic buildings all over the Northwest (like the Kennedy Elementary School where we stayed, or Masonic lodges or movie theatres or castles) and repurposing them into event/traveler complexes with microbrew pubs, movie theatres, live music, cafes, hotel rooms, and all sorts of artistically arrayed nooks and crannies.  The vibe is casual and social; the rooms are artful and fun–our “classroom” entry hall was lined with chalkboards upon which the staff had scrawled hotel messages and doodles.  Not luxuriously appointed (shower was a plastic cubicle, no TV so you go and socialize at one of the minimicropubs) but quirky and comfy.  There were six micropubs at the Kennedy school, a couple of which only seated five or six people each, my favorite being the converted principal’s office where one could go for “Detention”:

Detention Micropub at McMenamin's: Where the Bad Kids Go

McMenamin's Kennedy School, South Hallway

Entry to our room @ McMenamin's Kennedy School Inn

We had resolved to take it a little easy and not run around too much.  After some consternation we figured out Portland’s intricate but comprehensive bus/train/trolley system and made a pilgrimage to Powell’s Books, then to the huge Washington Park, home of the International Rose Test Garden where they were testing almost exclusively closed rosebuds at the moment….that is to say, we were a little early for the annual blossom explosion, but we knew we might be.

International Rose Test Garden, Portland OR

It’s a huge and beautiful city park and we could have easily spent the day there despite the non-performing roses, but we had a coffee date with an old friend who had moved up to Portland six years ago.  It was a great convo–he loves it up there, as do I…I am always filled with regret when I have to leave the Northwest.  We have many friends who feel the same way, who would move up to Oregon or Washington in a heartbeat if they could find a way to make a living there.  Portland is a wonderful, livable city, but it’s a comparatively small city (why it remains livable, you see) and not the economic engine most of us require to pay the bills.  Ah well.  It’s nice to know it’s there, waiting for us, when we finally retire to wear flannel and write novels while drinking thick black coffee while the dousing rain batters the rhododendrons outside.  Sigh.

The next morning, after one last breakfast and deep draught of McMenamin’s French press coffee–dark and gritty as mud and full of motivating caffeine–we boarded the train for home, the renowned Coast Starlight (where your coffee and wine are served in real glasses and mugs!)  From Portland it would be an overnighter to L.A. through the Cascades and into California’s Central Valley to home.

And it was splendid, real ceramic mugs notwithstanding.  The Cascades were rugged and as we ventured higher in altitude the world went all Christmas, white-out snow along the tracks, caught in the arms of the sharply-etched trees.

Our train chugging through a Cinco de Mayo snowstorm high in the Cascades

Klamath Lake, from the window of the Coast Starlight

I had been hoping to have some wireless connectivity during this last leg of our journey since I had articles to post, but thankfully there was none through these majestic mountains.  Samuel and I huddled together and enjoyed the view (when we weren’t trying to frantically photo the otherworldly snow tableaux that emerged at every turn of the tracks.)

There was a snowy sunset, and we slept.

Coming home through California the next day was a bit of a downer, the journey drawing to an end and the realization that a frantic Re-Entry Mambo would start as soon as we got home from the station.  There was haze in the air, starting pretty much in Northern California, and the sprawl began spreading into the horizon as we drew further south.  I had pretty good connectivity though (except through Vandenberg Air Force Base, where they nix that) and got some work done–my way of being in denial that Playtime Was Over.

When we got to Union Station, we detrained and were met (surprise!) by Samuel’s parents, whom we didn’t know were planning to pick us up.  We had already made arrangements with another friend for transport, so we all hung out in the loading zone and tried to acclimate to the L.A. high-blood-pressure pace once again.

Oddly, some production company was shooting a TV thang in Union Station when we arrived and they had changed the signs to say, “Le Havre, France.”  Would that it were so and the journey were starting anew! except there was like, a mime in a beret.

(…..guess….I’ll….be…..heading…..home…..then…… Run away, run away!!)

So we got to the house about 10 p.m. and it was bit of a shock–all was well, no house fire this time–and the sweet peas and poppies and roses and grape vines were so overgrown we could hardly see the front of the house (which was a little wonderful.)  Walking into the house and seeing the scene we left behind three weeks ago, strewn with signs of frantic repacking and last-minute trip prep, seemed incongruous and surreal once the ride was over.  We put our packs down, started hooking tech devices back up, culling email, piling laundry, etc.   We were home and needed to massage some life back into our L.A. existence before we went to bed, with much more to be done the next day/weekend/week, and so on.

The trek is over but the journey continues–stories and scenes still being pondered, digested, and contextualized.  We thank you for letting us share our rail adventure with you, and for being part of our greater adventure in life.

The ultimate journey is return, they say.  We have returned for now.

Home, Overgrown

Thumbs Up: Dr. Evermor’s Forevertron

It’s hard to put into words how The Forevertron made me feel when I first saw it–a cross between admiration and heartbreak–and how those feelings kept unfolding in every corner of the junkyard complex that houses this gargantuan scrap-metal work of art.

The Forevertron and its attendants are also impossible to photograph in a way that convey its wistfulness and wonderfulness, but here are a few paltry attempts of my own (and some better ones here.)

The Forevertron, central chamber

Forevertron, another inadequate view

Forevertron Telescope

Forevertron Love Cannon, which disables enemies with love

Flower in the Forevertron GardenProcession of Aliens?  Defenders? near Forevertron

As one wanders the Forevertron grounds and inspects the intense detail–saw blades layered by the hundreds to make tails for huge rusting birds, gears lovingly sized and welded around the mouth a gigantic piston housing as a floral border–the sense of awe and also sadness grow.   The amount of work required to assemble this structure (and the Victorian fairy tale of time/space travel upon which its aesthetic hangs) out of discarded metal is mind-boggling; the realization of the amount of waste in our world, and the expressed yearning for a better place to live and explore, is also writ large in its monolithic pipes, tubes, and engine parts.

Orchestral Chime Bird, Forevertron

The artist Tom Every is now in a nursing home, and there’s little information about him on the Interwebs or around Spring Green, WI (it is rumored he had a nasty falling-out with Alex Jordan, builder of House on the Rock–Every’s influence on certain portions of the House on the Rock seems clear, but you won’t hear anyone mention him there.)  I suggest taking the time to read the newspaper clippings hung up on swinging boards near the entrance to the Forevertron, since these give the most complete and intimate accounts of Every’s life and the Forevertron.  This PBS piece describes his transformation into “Dr. Evermor”:

“Every’s shift from wrecker to preserver of wreckage led to his “rebirth” as Dr. Evermor. Through this new identity, he would build the Forevertron. Dr. Evermor recalls this important period: “I became Dr. Evermor around 1983 when we started to build the Forevertron. I was a bit upset with the world, not so much the economic conditions as the judicial system and things like that, and I wanted to perpetuate myself back into the heavens on this magnetic lightning force field.”

Love Beam (detail), the Forevertron

Thus: Dr. Evermor’s Forevertron, a time machine with central transport compartment, a Gravitron (which lightens the traveler before traversing space), a telescope for skeptics to witness a traveler’s flight, and an elevated white wrought iron gazebo for the comfort of visiting royal observers.  The Forevertron is surrounded by an array of creatures and gizmos, and nearby one will find an army of hybrid animal/musical instruments and a garden constructed of pliers, springs, and bowling balls.

Victoria and Albert's Observation Gazebo, the Forevertron

Butterflies, the Forevertron

Bowling Ball Shrub, the Forevertron

For a stuck-up city kid, it’s worth pondering how so much creativity packed itself into a tiny town in Wisconsin–Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin (Spring Green, WI was his hometown), Alex Jordan and his House on the Rock–and the Forevertron just hollering distance away in Sumpter, WI.  Three completely different lives and visions, in the middle of dairycow country.  It’s a little humbling, but maybe it’s all that wide-open, fertile space that allows the sort of large dreams that distinguished these artists’ work (or maybe it’s something in the cheese.)

Anyway, if you find yourself wandering Wisconsin’s Dairyland, stop by the Forevertron and have your mind blown.  And leave a donation–this is work from the heart, and the salvage store that hosts the Forevertron doesn’t charge admission (unlike the ungodly sum one pays to get into the broken-down House on the Rock.)  Adventurers, Away!

Toolheads--Warriors or Dancers? or Both?

More Wisconsin Cheese, and Empire

More jello molds.  It’s a Wisconsin thang.  I like the rainbow one, in case you can’t decide on just one of the many colorful flavors.

The Other Stuff That Comes From Cows, Wisconsin

A Cheese Store, Wisconsin

We proceeded to Spring Green, home of Frank Lloyd Wright‘s Taliesin (also closed–opened for the season the day we left, dammit–Strike Two!) and were made extremely damp by a couple torrential Midwest storms, lightning and rain and thunder and thunderous rain and awe-inspiringly intense.  We stayed at a FLW style inn–as close as we got to Frank Lloyd Wright this trip, though I overheard one guest who was checking in say she had read “Loving Frank” and that’s why she came to see Taliesin.

The Usonian Inn, Spring Green WI. Strong coffee, weak network.

Our innkeeper was Romanian and very stressed and very friendly and very friendly about how very stressed she was (technical issues; we understood, as in addition to the digital TV errors she was complaining about to us, the inn’s advertised wireless internet didn’t have the signal strength to reach our room–our USB wireless network thingy wasn’t picking up any local bandwidth either–so we were SOL and had to sit in the lobby if we wanted to retrieve email.)  The inn had a great modernistic mechanized Miele coffee maker though–best coffee we had in Wisconsin, I would say, and so stylishly made.  It’s fun to watch machines do things, which would become a theme for the rest of the day.

Since Frank wasn’t available, we went to see Spring Green’s other crazy architect attraction, the House On The Rock.

Main house, House On The Rock

The Infinity Room, House On The Rock

It’s hard to describe Alex Jordan‘s maniac design aesthetic and dusty, decadent decor–some of the concepts for which may have been stolen from local artist Tom Every, creator of the Forevertron–but it was an entertaining day meandering through the labyrinth of collected stuff.  It’s not that there were rare or authentic items–much of the collection was knock-offs, chintz, and mass-produced–but there was a LOT, a never-ending chain of dimly-lit rooms like opium dens, filled with sequins, brass, costumed mannequins, and hoarded stuff.

Tea stuff, House On The Rock

Mechanical puppet show, "The Death Of A Drunk"

"The Gladiator," a room-sized music machine

I was disappointed because the majority of the advertised mechanical music collection–Regina disk-operated music boxes, bandwagons, calliopes and the like–were non-operational OR WORSE, were rigged to play a tape-recording while the machine was moving and some of the percussion pieces pounded.

"Mikado" music machine, fakey!! (but the guy in the middle beats the drum and raises his eyebrows)

Still, some of the exhibits–oversized walk-in dioramas like “The Organ Room” or the Carousel–were breathtaking, mostly because they were so HUGE and SO CRAMMED with LOTS OF THINGS.  It’s hard to imagine SO MUCH STUFF packed tightly into ONE MASSIVE DIMLY LIT BUILDING IN WISCONSIN, but there you have it.

WordPress won’t let me center this video and YouTube wouldn’t let me upload the better res version so you could see the figures clearly,  but here’s a quick glimpse of the huge percussive Carousel in motion:

Dimly lit detail, Organ Room

Pouring Rain As We Left House On The Rock

Someday I would like to get back to Baraboo to see Circus World, and muse on the many hills and dales which are–for real–filled with green grass, cows, and red barns with silos.  Until then, We’ll Always Have Cheese.

Red Barns--Yep, Here's Where We Grow 'Em

THE EMPIRE BUILDER, OR

TWO AND A HALF DAYS FROM BADLAND TO PORTLAND

Our Baraboo/Dells/Spring Green adventure done, we drove back to Milwaukee and boarded the Amtrak Empire Builder for Portland.  It was two days of badlands and snow–yes, snow!

Snow, North Dakota

The train got more and more sticky and trash-laden as the days went on–we saw babies being changed on coach seats (yeccch) and stinky bags of trash accruing in the baggage areas waiting to be discarded.  We were grateful we could afford a “roomette” again for the trek–you really didn’t want to be in the coach car for the long schlep.

Samuel, May Day Flowers--both tired

We lunched with a pair of sisters traveling to Portland to care for their brother with cancer, and one time when we were walking through to the dining car we overheard one woman telling her three young children, “…he can’t know where we live when we move.”  Yikes.

We met an uncanny number people who worked in the aerospace industry during our trans-country train lunches, and it reeeeaaallly makes you wonder why these people aren’t traveling by plane.

Many of the other passengers were clearly too poor or decrepit to fly; you can really see how class plays into who gets on the train, and who gets to sit where with or without amenities.

Cows, Storm, from the window of the Empire Builder

The last part of the Empire Builder trip was through Montana’s Glacier Park, and it made all the stickiness and trashiness pretty worth it.  More snow, exquisite scenery.  We’d like to railroad back to a lodge out there sometime and enjoy the natural beauty while standing still (while being mindful not to get et by grizzlies, which can happen up here sometimes.)

The Continental Divide (see obelisk)

Day Two, Montana's Glacier Park

Sleep’s not something that really happens on a train, even in the privacy of a “roomette;” you lie in your bunk and roll around all night as the train shudders past rough switches or grinds into a midnight station.  After two nights of not-sleep and not-shower, one can feel a bit put upon.   However, Amtrak cleverly put the best scenery for last on The Empire Builder, so you are distracted from your misery a little and forget the long miles that came before.

That final morning, we passed through The Dalles (OR) on approach to Portland; a rainstorm and a rainbow greeting us when we crossed the state line like a promise that we’d never have to endure such a grueling train ride again:

The Dalles

The Rainbow

We arrived at Portland late morning and as soon as I deboarded I immediately became nostalgic for my old stomping ground in Seattle.  The rhododendrons and dogwoods were in full bloom and the air was cold and felt nutritious to breathe; it was rainy and glorious, and we had nothing planned but a little R&R (rose garden and renovated hotel) before we ventured home.

Next: McMenamins, and The Starlight Express Home!

Thoughts on Traveling with Amtrak

Before departing on this journey, I was filled with excitement (yes, and trepidation) by the transportation aspect: what would it be like to travel around the country on Amtrak trains? After all, I’ve traveled on trains throughout Britain and Europe, as well as in India, Thailand, Malaysia, and Japan, and the experience varied dramatically. Train travel can be a futuristic, hi-tech experience (like the Shinkansen in Japan), an interminable, disgusting, crowded, and smoky experience (like a train I once took from Vienna to Beograd), or pretty much anything in between.

Train

Amtrak Cafe Car

Still, I didn’t know exactly what to expect on this journey. Elizabeth and I had taken a short Amtrak trek up to San Luis Obispo about ten years ago, and enjoyed it, but that was a few hours, while on this trip we’d be spending days on the train. Would we suffer from cabin-fever? Would we get to our first stop in San Antonio, and start the search a divorce lawyer? Or would it be a romantic adventure?

Station Stop, North Dakota

Station Stop, North Dakota

If you’ve been reading this blog, you know the answers to those questions.

We found that traveling by Amtrak is, in many ways, a more civilized means of transportation. You don’t have to go through the abuse that you would at the airport. They dispense with the security theater. As one car attendant said to me “terrorists would have a hard time hijacking a train and crashing it into the World Trade Center”.

Train trips have always been a good source for stories. I think this is a natural outgrowth of the social aspect of trains; somehow, and I don’t really understand how, trains invite social interaction in a much more profound way than airplanes do. I’ve been on many transcontinental flights where I haven’t exchanged more than “excuse me” to any of the people sitting in my row. I don’t think I’ve ever been on a train where I haven’t had at least a short conversation — and often much more than that. I’ve been lectured on the moral imperatives of marriage and personal hygiene by an Indian businessman en route to Agra, and gotten drunk with soldiers on a Thai train. I’ve had strange, laughter-punctuated pidgin communications with people where we shared no language other than hand gestures and simple drawings. I’ve talked tech, compared cell phones, and traded snacks or paperbacks with people on trains. I’ve heard life stories, business tales, political views, and ghost stories.

Amtrak

Amtrak Sleeper

On Amtrak, you meet other people in the passageway, possibly in the lounge car, and always if you eat in the dining car. You may get bounced into them as you walk by in the coach car. You find yourself having a lot of conversations.

The slower pace of transport also seems to result in more natural conversation with train employees. There’s not a focus-tested greeting or script for each interaction. Conductors will tell you something about the upcoming station, or talk about the weather. Sleeping car attendants will talk about the circus train that they saw the previous day.

Just as trains are more social than airplanes, they also occupy an interesting place in our national psyche. People love trains. We attach a mystique to them in a way that we do with few other modes of transportation. Some of this is clearly historical: just as we now find horse-drawn hansoms and hackneys romantic, we think of trains as quaint. But there’s more to it than that. People wave to passing trains — all kinds of people, not just children. As we were pulling out through eastern Los Angeles County, we saw a construction worker pause from his labor to wave at us as we went by.

Montana

Station Stop, Montana

But what of the nitty gritty details of Amtrak travel? Here’s where there’s both good and bad.

The Ride
Unlike trains in, say, Japan, there is a lot of physical motion on an Amtrak train. There is side-to-side motion when the train is switching spurs or going over crossings, there is leaning when going around curves or on certain stretches of track, and there is back-and-forth jerking. As far as I know, most of the rails in the United States are still bolted segments rather than the welded track used in western Europe and Japan. This contributes to the roughness of the ride (although, to be fair, there are reported to be as many miles of rail in California alone as there are in Japan).

Depending on which route you’re on, the ride may be anywhere from “mostly smooth” to “roller coaster.” Presumably, this has a lot to do with the quality of the track and the speed at which the train moves. We found that the smoothest route was the Coast Starlight route along the West Coast.

Track

Track

Business Class versus Sleeper versus Coach
On routes that don’t go overnight, trains are generally divided into coach and business class coach. There are evidently also “quiet cars” where conversation, cell phone usage, and probably children are prohibited. We only did a few of these shorter routes, and always in ordinary coach class, so there’s not much I can say about it.

For overnight routes, sleeper cars effectively become the business class. Sleeper passengers have their dining car meals included in their fare, and are given priority treatment. You can opt for a full room (which we did not do) or a “roomette,” which is a mini compartment that has two facing seats that transform into an upper and lower bunk. There are nice touches like bottled water waiting for you in the roomette, coffee and juices available at the end of the car, and, on some of the long-haul routes, a welcoming mini-bottle of champagne or cider.

Sleeper cars have communal restroom and shower facilities. Some sleeper cars have their own, in-roomette toilet and sink, which doubles as the step to the upper bunk. As there is no separation at all in the roomette, using these facilities is contingent upon you being on very intimate terms with your travel companion. They’re also contingent upon you having good balance when over rough track.

Coach cars have rows of seats that are like more comfortable airplane seats and with better leg-room. They often have fold-out footrests, which people try to use as makeshift beds on overnight routes. When the train was not especially full, it appeared that people had reasonable success sleeping by curling up and using two neighboring seats.

Unlike the roomette compartments, which have their own doors and curtains to isolate them from the rest of the train, the coach car has no means of shutting off noise, light, or odors between neighbors.

All Aboard

All Aboard

Sleeping
We never tried sleeping except in a roomette on a sleeper car. The fact is you can sleep on the train, but you may not sleep well.

The problem with sleeping is less the motion of the train (although on particularly jerky routes, it may be a factor), but is more to do with the maintenance of the cars themselves. It’s clear that Amtrak tries to keep things in good order, but the cars are heavily used, and many of them are old. As a result, there’s a lot of irregular ambient noise, primarily squeaking and clanking. There’s also squeals of wheels on some curves, the sound of the train whistle (depending on how close to the locomotive you are, and how many roads cross the tracks), and light, noise, and hubbub from station stops. In some cars, the curtains no longer close very tightly, so light leaks in. In other cars, the door latches are broken or worn, so the compartment door thumps around from the motion of the train. And in some cars, the heating/air conditioning is temperamental.

Of course, sleeping is obviously affected by the quantity of wine or coffee consumed in the lounge or dining car.

Train

Train

Food
With the sleeper car ticket, meals are free (except for alcohol). You make your lunch and dinner reservations with the attendant who walks through the train; sleeper passengers get priority over coach passengers for making reservations, but you may end up at a table with people from either group.

The dining car has tables with cloth tablecloths and vases with fresh flowers. You get real silverware. On some routes, you get real plates and cups too.

The menu is not exactly the same across all routes, but by and large there is a similar pattern. Breakfasts are eggs, potatoes, toast, and meat or an omelet or famous “railroad french toast” or a continental. Lunch is some hot sandwich, a hamburger, a veggie burger, or sometimes a salad. Dinner is a vegetarian pasta, roasted chicken, some kind of fish or seafood, or some kind of steak. Dinners come with salad and a roll and have an option for dessert (typically cheesecake, brownie, or ice cream). For most meals, there is a daily special as well. You can get a lot more specific detail on the Amtrak site.

Food is institutional, but it’s definitely better than the average airplane meal. Quantities are generous. It’s not gourmet, but it was certainly good enough. In my experience, the less exotic things were the best: the steak was pretty good.

Track

Track

Miscellaneous
As mentioned in other posts, traveling by train exposes you to parts of the country that you wouldn’t see otherwise. It takes you through spectacular scenery, and it takes you through the uglier side of town. I don’t think that there’s any other way of getting an impression of so much of the country in so short a time.

Photography from a train can be frustrating — the windows are not especially clear, there’s a lot of reflection, and you’re often moving too fast to get The Shot.

Amtrak has some nice extras like wine and cheese tastings in the lounge car on the longer routes (Empire Builder from Chicago to Portland/Seattle, Coast Starlight from Seattle to Los Angeles). Elizabeth won a bottle of Pinot Grigio in the trivia contest, too!

I think Elizabeth summarizes it well when she points out that Amtrak has something of an identity crisis. Is Amtrak’s aim to serve tourists and rail aficionados, or is Amtrak a Greyhound bus on rails? There’s definitely an effort to make for a high-quality tourist experience: the routes go to tourist destinations (like Glacier National Park and the Grand Canyon), some routes have guides describing the places you pass through, and the services seem to be designed to cater to tourists. On the other hand, some trains are clearly commuter trains. To some extent, this is an East Coast / West Coast split, with the western trains being more oriented towards tourists and the eastern trains more for moving people efficiently, but it’s not that simple either (for example, the Florida/New York auto-train is definitely for snowbirds).

Amtrak’s fortunes follow politics. One car attendant told me that the Bush administration considered Amtrak an unnecessary expense (effectively subsidizing rail buffs), while the Obama administration sees Amtrak as part of an overall national rail infrastructure which will be increasingly important. Regardless of the reasons, Bush proposed cuts for Amtrak’s budget, while Obama has increased it. Amtrak is not profitable, and the consistent operating losses may be one reason for the continued non-operation of the New Orleans to Jacksonville segment.

Columbia River Bridge

Columbia River Bridge

Bottom Line: Would We Do It Again?
Yes.

We’re already mulling around ideas of a Pacific Northwest journey for some future Summer. We’ll keep you posted!