Tuesday 27 May – A change of scenery

We're on the train from New Orleans, Louisiana, to Benson, Arizona.  We both sleep “off and on” during the night, although the beds are really quite comfortable. Reg is worse off on the top bunk, as there isn't much room between the bed and the ceiling. However he gallantly offers to take the upper level as he is more adept at hoisting himself up there than I am.

In the morning we open the curtains and the scenery has completely changed from lush grassland to arid desert. We're now passing through Texas, and will shortly pass through New Mexico; both these states border with Mexico, which at times can be seen through our train window, as for a while, the railway runs close to the border. There are tufts of grass here and there, and craggy rock formations; mostly though the landscape is really flat. Now and again we pass through a dusty town or settlement.

I go downstairs in the train to take a shower, get undressed in the miniscule area, then can't get the shower to work. It's obvious that someone has recently had a shower, so I struggle with the shower control for a few minutes; then, disgruntled, I put my clothes on again, and move to a nearby “restroom” (toilet and washbasin), undress again in a tiny space in a jostling train, and have a wash down. As I return to my seat, I see the car attendant.

“I can't get the shower to work,” I say, a little crossly. “Perhaps it's run out of water.”

“Oh, we have plenny of wader,” replies the car attendant. “You must be doing something wrong. Would you like me to come back to the shower with you and help you to turn it on?”

“No, it's alright, thank you,” I say, really annoyed with myself that I couldn't get the shower to work, but not willing to go through the whole process again, now that I'm washed and dressed.

I return to our sleeper, in a bit of a huff.

“Right, I'm off to have a shower,” says Reg with a grin.

“Well, I'm coming to see how it works,” I retort, crossly. I go with him, and although the shower control is a bit stiff, it does move with a little effort. I return to our sleeper, and

in a short while Reg returns bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

“Oh, that shower was lovely,” he croons. “What's that smell, though? Someone hasn't had a shower this morning.” He continues to sniff the air at intervals, while I either studiously ignore him or, occasionally, give his leg a slap.

We choose the continental breakfast – it's yoghurt, plus cereal or porridge, fresh fruit (strawberries and grapefruit), and croissant, or “wheat biscuit” which Reg chooses – this looks rather like an English scone. I can feel my waistline expanding with all this good Amtrak food – we feel we should take full advantage of it, though, since it's included in the price of the ticket if you book a sleeping car.

Reg accidentally catches the lead of the red notebook computer in his foot while I'm using it – this causes it to freeze, and turning it off and on again doesn't fix it. Eventually, Reg manages to make it work again. He shows some diligence in doing this, as he knows that if and when the trusty little red notebook conks out completely, I will have to share the tablet to write the blog.

At lunchtime in the restaurant car, we are told that several of the menu choices are unavailable, because the train has been travelling for 5 days. So it's either burger in a bun, or salad. I choose burger, but won't be sorry not to eat another of those for a while. We get talking to an older lady and her daughter, and spend some time comparing the American health care system, and what “Obamacare” means, and our own National Health Service, which is steathily being privatised in parts. We know how lucky we are to have a National Health Service, and hope people will fight to preserve it. Even with health insurance in America, it can still cost $350 for a simple visit to the doctor.

We're very confused about what time it is on the train. Our watches say 3.10 pm, though we know that in Benson the time will be 2 hours behind this. A kindly fellow passenger explains; at the station we've just visited, the time changed to 2.10 pm – we went back an hour – because of a change in time zone. That explains putting our watches back one hour. However, when we arrive in Benson, that will be in the same time zone, but we'll be in “Mountain Standard Time”, not in “daylight saving time” (rather like British Summer Time) – which all the other states are in - so we go back yet another hour. However, when we leave Arizona, and enter California, we'll be in “daylight saving time” again, and our watches would go forward an hour – except that it's a new time zone (which means we should put our watches back an hour) – so the time stays the same. Confused? You and me both!

We have time to go to the early dinner sitting on the train before disembarking. Benson appears to be a sleepy little outback town; not big enough to have taxis waiting at the station which is just a platform near the road. The temperature is 31 degrees c. Reg leaves me with the luggage in the shade of an icecream parlour, while he goes into the petrol station opposite to enquire about taxis. There are no taxis available, but the man in the petrol station offers to take us to our hotel (no hostels in Benson) when he finishes his shift in half an hour, as he says it's on his way home. Reg offers to pay the man, but he won't take any money.

The hotel is really nice – it even has a swimming pool, though unheated. Reg organises a hire car for tomorrow. We've come to Benson so that we can visit Tombstone – an historic “cowboy” town.