We're up
at 6.00 am to get ready and to pack our last minute items– our
train will probably start boarding well before 9.00 am, and Reg wants
to make sure we get to the train station in plenty of time. Also, if
we're lucky we'll be able to get something to eat at or near the New
Orleans Amtrak Train Station.
Our taxi
driver is Palestinian. He's lived in the USA for about 35 years, and
in New Orleans for 4 years. He's originally from the Gaza Strip. He
tells us it's easy for a Palestinian to get a visa to come to the
USA; I'm not sure why that is. He has the meter on and the cost to
the station is about $8. This makes us realise we were well caught
out with our taxi from the station to the hostel – that
driver didn't have his meter on and charged us $18. Number one
lesson when travelling – just expect to be ripped off by taxi
drivers now and again, wherever you are in the world.
We find
a place to sit with all our luggage in the station, & Reg goes
off in search of something for breakfast – he's been told you can
buy “breakfast to go” at a nearby supermarket. He doesn't fancy
the burgers and baguettes on offer in the station “Subway”,
besides which, it's expensive. After some time, Reg returns with
polystyrene boxes containing scrambled egg, fried/roasted potatoes,
and something which looks like a small chicken breast, but tastes
like sausage. It's quite nice, though not that hot. We didn't fill
our flasks in the hostel (should have done), as we knew we'd be able
to get hot water on the train. We'd love a cuppa. The helpful young
woman serving in “Subway” says they only serve coffee, and don't
have tea or hot water.
“You
might be able to get hot water in the coffee machine around the
back,” she offers.
Sure
enough, when I finally work out how the machine works, I can get a
cup of hot water for $1.50. Needs must, and I take it back to our
seats, divide it into our 2 trusty plastic mugs which travel with us
at all times, and pop in our tea bags (which we also always carry).
Our
train will take us from New Orleans, Louisiana, to Benson, Arizona.
It's a 2 day journey – we will arrive tomorrow evening, so it's
another overnight trip, and when we arrive, UK time will be 8 hours
ahead of us. Because we have a sleeper, we're allowed to wait in the
VIP lounge, with a number to key in on the door, and comfortable
seats.
Finally
we're boarding the train; this time our large luggage (my gli-dy,
errant purple one and Reg's soft bag on wheels) can go in a luggage
rack downstairs in the train - our sleeping compartment is upstairs.
It's slightly worrying letting our suitcases out of our site, but
it's all part of travelling; and so much better that Reg hasn't got
to hoist them up to an 8ft high ceiling rack like last time. Our
“sleeper”
(compartment) is about the same size as before, but we don't have our
own foldaway washbasin and toilet. This isn't a bad thing, actually,
because it gives us more room – and there's a handy, clean toilet
(“restroom”) just
down the corridor. There's also a shower downstairs, with towels
provided. I will have to try this out in the morning, if only to
know what it's like to take a shower on a train that's hurtling from
side to side.
There
was so much we really liked about our hostel in New Orleans – the
socializing aspect (chatting to so many young people), the fast Wifi,
the hot shower, the cooked breakfast (which we only manage to have
once) and the fact that it is friendly, welcoming and very cheap. In
every hostel we book a room to ourselves; sometimes, as is the case
in India House, we have an en-suite shower and toilet. India House
isn't the cleanest hostel we've come across, but facilities are
cheap- it's only $1.25 to use the washing machine – with free
powder - and only $1 to use the dryer. However, nobody tells us that
one of the dryers has sharp teeth, and bites holes in clothes. The
dryer seems to prefer socks and underwear, as all of the new socks I
bought for our trip, plus some of the new underwear, and a new
t-shirt, end up with several small jagged holes in them, and
tell-tale grease marks near the holes. Luckily, my trousers and
Reg's t-shirts must be too large a prey for the predatory machine,
and they escape injury.
Before
we leave the hostel, I tell the receptionist about the shark in the
dryer, and show him our damaged items of clothing.
“What,
like this you mean?” he asks, showing me a pillowcase with a
few grease streaks over it, where the machine has caught it. “We
were wondering how that happened.”
“It's
the top dryer,” I say. “Please could you make a note of
it. I wouldn't like all those young people's clothes to be ruined.”
The
receptionist writes “TOP DRYER” on a post-it note. I
won't take the matter any further, mainly because we are moving on
today, and I only realised this morning that we had holes in so many
items of clothing. I might mention it on Trip Advisor though, in a
jokey way …..ie “I hope the dryer no longer bites holes in
clothes”.
My
first few hours on the train are spent mending pants and socks. Good
job I brought my sewing kit. Probably the lady in the opposite
compartment feels sorry for me, should she happen to glance through
our window and see me busily darning clothes …..
“ Poor
woman, can't she afford to buy new ones?”
Little
does she know, these are new....they were just unfortunate enough to
get bitten by the shark in the dryer.
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