Friday 27 June – Better late than never!

We both feel better this morning after at least some sleep on the moving train. We are travelling from Chicago (which we loved) to Boston; we're due to arrive in Boston at 9.30 pm this evening, but we know that the train will almost certainly be some hours late; it was 2½ hours late leaving Chicago, due to “technical difficulties”. We open our cabin curtains to lush green countryside and farmland – so different from the arid Western states of USA where they are in the midst of a serious drought.

The elderly couple who sit opposite us at breakfast (lol! We know we are no spring chickens!) don't talk to each other at all; in fact the woman smiles but says very little except “how wonderful!” when the husband asks about our journey and we tell them about all the places we've visited. The husband says that he didn't sleep at all on the train.

“Were you on the top bunk?” I ask.

“Yes, my wife is disabled.”

“That must have been difficult for you to climb up there,” I say, thinking, “I know I wouldn't have found it very easy”.

“Yes, it wasn't easy,” he replies.

Also, he would of course have had to climb down and then back up again if, like us, he needed the loo in the night. I guess there are advantages to having the James-Bond toilet that doubles as a step up to the top bunk, and the fold-away washbasin in your cabin. This couple are going to Vermont to visit their daughter and their grandchildren.

After breakfast I write the blog in Open Office, to copy and paste into the Blogger when we get to our hostel in 2.30 pm. Unlike other trains we've been on, the car assistant doesn't come around individually to the sleeping car passengers to ask us what sitting we would like for lunch; we can just go when we like within the time period. We think this a bit strange, as wouldn't that mean that everyone might come to lunch at once and there wouldn't be enough room in the dining car?

This is exactly what happens. We go for lunch at 1.15 pm, and there's quite a queue outside the dining car. We read our kindle (me) tablet (Reg) while queuing in the slimline train corridor, every so often having to breathe in as passengers leaving the dining car squeeze past us.

When we do eventually get seated, there is no real choice of menu left for lunch; this is an extremely crowded train and they are running out of food supplies. It's either Angus beefburger or veggie burger; we have the Angus beefburger. It comes with salad and icecream (or icecream afterwards). Beefburgers are usually very good in America. Very often the menu states that they are made with top quality “Angus” beef. Nevertheless, we are trying not to have too much fast food, but it is difficult!

We have a lovely young couple sitting opposite us at lunchtime, and by a fluke the same couple are opposite us at dinner; so we have the chance to get to know them a little bit. If they are reading this, the young woman with the beautiful eyes and long dark hair is Jasmine, but we're so sorry, we've forgotten the name of your partner, the good-looking young man with the slicked back hair and candid (blue?) eyes. We tell them about our “star-spangled-journey”, and our Bristol to Singapore journey 2 years ago. We give them our blog address. This couple have done quite a bit of travelling themselves – Jasmine is a potter and they met in Mexico, when she was working there and her partner was travelling.

Up until now they've lived in Vancouver, Canada, while he completed his Masters Degree in Philosophy. They've now sold up in Vancouver and are moving to Boston, where Jasmine's partner is going to do his PhD in philosophy. They have ALL their worldly goods with them on the train (several large suitcases of checked-in luggage). They sold up most of their possessions before moving, but will still need a large taxi when we arrive in Boston to transport them and their luggage to their B&B! They are confident that they will be able to find rented accommodation in Boston over the next couple of weeks – I feel that is such a positive attitude and involves a real step of faith!

We have a really interesting discussion about religion and philosophy, and I tell them about the mega-church we visited last Sunday in Albuquerque. Jasmine's partner is just finishing reading a book (a novel) which he thinks I would enjoy; he says he'll pass it on to me before the end of the journey. We really engage with this couple and at the end of the journey Reg's passes them our email address, should they want to get in touch. Jasmine and your partner – we would love you to email us, and contact us if you ever come to England again!

During our journey I've caught up on a little correspondence, again in Open Office, to be copied and pasted into Hotmail when we arrive at our hotel.

Dinner is even less choice than lunch was; we have to have it in the cafe, rather than the dining car, as the train was split into 2 trains at Albany, part-way through the journey. We are by now running 4 hours late; we can't start dinner until the train has split; the part of the train with the dining car (and much of the food, it seems) is heading for New York. We head for the café car for our dinner at about 8.45 pm.

I've mentioned that passengers who book cabins in the sleeping cars get meals included in their ticket. In fact sleeping car passengers are very much prioritised on Amtrak; it's like travelling first class on British trains. In fact, it feels uncomfortable, walking through several carriages of non-sleeping car passengers, to get to the restaurant car at lunchtime, and the café car at teatime. Here you have the families and individuals who make themselves as comfortable as they can in the reclining seats of the (very comfortable actually) day-travelling sections of the train. You walk passed people wrapped up in blankets with just a head showing, and you manoeuvre around legs and feet sticking out across the aisle. It just doesn't seem right somehow, that we're marching down the carriage aisle for a hot meal, and they aren't. They are able to buy meals in the café if they want; but at the moment it is closed to them, as the café are serving us, the priority sleeping-car passengers. The waitress keeps shooing day-passengers out of the café.

“I'm sorry, the cafe's shut at the moment. Didn't you hear my annoucement? Please leave the cafe car, thank you.” (The passenger views all the sleeping-car passengers enjoying their meal – the bits and bobs of food that are left on this journey, anyway.)

“When will you be open again?” enquires the passenger, tentatively. This larger-than-life buxom African American cook/waitress is not someone to be meddled with.

“I dunno when it'll be open again!” she says in frustration. It's been a very long shift. “I'll let you know over the tannoy, alright?”

The passenger slinks away, obediently. This process is repeated several times during our meal, as various hungry passengers observe us being fed.

“I ain't had nothing to eat meself yet,” says the cook/waitress. “Ais bin on the go the whole time.”

She shares a joke with us though; she is obviously the life and soul of the Amtrak café.

As we settle down to sleep for an unexpected part-of-a-second-night's sleep in the bunk beds, I think about those passengers who are having to cope with children in the day carriages, for a second unexpected night on the train.

Reg and I are both sound asleep when the voice comes over the tannoy.

“2 minutes everyone! The train will be pulling in to Boston station in 2 minutes!'

It's 1.30 am; the train is 4 hours late. Outside the station, we're relieved to see a line of waiting taxis. Soon we're at our hostel, but it takes us quite a while to get back to sleep in yet another different bed.