We
share breakfast with Chris and Carole, a brother and sister who've
come to Charlottesville for the graduation weekend. They don't have a
relative who's graduating, but Carole herself graduated here as a
nurse many years ago, and she wants to re-live her experience, I
guess. It must be different from UK graduations, where only
family members can be involved in watching the ceremonies, due to
ticket restrictions.
We
have one more night in Charlottesville, but we have to leave the
lovely Alexander House Inn and Hostel today, as they are fully booked
tonight, because of the graduation weekend. It just so happened that
our visit to Charlottesville fell over this weekend; Reg did try to
book a train to our next destination, Staunton, a day early, but
there are no trains running to Staunton today. So tonight we have to
stay in a very expensive hotel, the Residence Inn, which is part of
the Marriott chain.
After
breakfast we finish packing. We have some laundry to do, so by prior
arrangement with the lovely staff of Alexander House, we leave our
suitcases at the b&b and use the bikes to visit the laundrette.
It's a huge one, at least 30 washing machines of different sizes, and
as many tumble dryers. It costs less than four dollars, and takes
about an hour to wash and dry our clothes. I'm glad to get this done
as I'm not sure when we'll next have an opportunity.
Back
at the B&B, we phone a taxi and are soon on our way to the
Residence Inn. As we roll in our luggage, two of the breakfast staff
(we learn from our conversation) stop us and chat to us. One lady is
from Germany, the other from Hungary. Reg explains that he is half
Polish. The two ladies tell us that they are on breakfast duty
tomorrow, so will see us then! Our overall impression of these two
members of staff, who are obviously very good friends, is that they
may not have very well paid jobs, but that they are happy with life
and at peace with the world.
We
check in and find our room, which fortunately is on the ground floor,
down the end of a warren of corridors. The room is massive; it's an
interconnecting suite of rooms, really, with a lounge area with
settee, coffee table and desk, a kitchen area with a massive empty
fridge, sink, dishwasher, twin hob, microwave and coffee maker (but
no kettle), a huge widescreen tv, bedroom and bathroom. It's nice,
but we miss the friendly relaxed atmosphere at the hostel, and are
glad we're only here for one night. And that we have our travel
kettle.
We
wander off in search of food and at the nearby out-of-town shopping
centre (the Marriott is near the university, some distance from
“downtown Charlottesville”, with it's picturesque shopping mall),
we find a Mediterranean restaurant, which looks promising. The staff are
friendly and really on the ball, and as we are eating our main
course, the restaurant owner approaches us.
“Is
everything ok for you?”
“Absolutely
delicious, thankyou!” I
say. Reg agrees it's one of the best meals we've had while away.
“I'm
so glad. You are welcome here anytime. You are from London?”
“Bristol.
South West England. About 100 miles from London.”
“Ah,
I knew you were English!”
There's
a huge supermarket (the first supermarket we've come across on our
travels) and we pop in to buy a couple of things. Reg wonders if
they sell “tablet computers” – we had to cancel our Amazon
order for a replacement tablet, as there was a delivery delay. We
might have left our Charlottesville by the time it arrived. Although
this supermarket is huge, it doesn't sell any electrical goods.
There is however a Wallmart on the outskirts of Staunton, and we will
be hiring a car while there, so perhaps we'll be able to replace the
tablet after all.
Reg
brought his book with him to read while we were waiting for lunch;
he's carrying it in his hand as we go through the supermarket
checkout, and accidentally puts it on the conveyor belt. He hastily
retrieves it just before the checkout operator scans it. I think
she believes him that he already had the book, as it looks less than
pristine!
On
our return to the hotel, Reg watches a blood-and-guts fast-cars
action film on the widescreen TV, but even he agrees it's not really
worth seeing. I send the promised email to Elaine, and “Whatsap”
Marianne and George. Having received a text from “3” indicating
that I was being charged for calls to the UK, I've since been able to
speak to “3” (again!). They have once more patiently assured me
that I have free calls, texts and downloads to the UK, within my
normal package – but it will cost me dear if I make a local call in
America. The text telling me I was being charged was an automatic
message sent because of the American network my phone was connected
to, and I can ignore it.
Tomorrow
afternoon we catch the train to Staunton; but in the morning, if all
goes well, we will visit the local Methodist church.
No comments:
Post a Comment