Spruce Pine is a little town in the mountains in North Carolina.
They have Oak St, which is the main street.
But off of Oak St is Low Street, which is just what its name implies, lower down the mountain slope.
And even lower than Low Street is the Riverside Park.
We were there in Riverside Park on a Friday, and stumbled upon a drum circle. I guess they were inspired by the famous one in Asheville. I have seen the Asheville one once, years ago, but I didn’t really like it, actually. It was super crowded and loud and it was quite late at night. At least, this is true if the big commotion I saw actually was the drum circle, and not some other frantic conclave that Asheville likes to do.
The Spruce Pine version, on the other hand, is just a group of people, sitting on wooden beams, in a gentle park, on sunny afternoons, and tapping out rhythms. Everyone brings their own drum; or actually, some people brings lots of drums, so they have extras to share if passersby want to join in.
Everyone just drums to their own beat, but it still sounded really nice! I think their ears are all attuned to listening to each other, and they seem to moderate and speed up all as a unit.
They call themselves the Riverside Rumble, and they asked me to share my photos on social media. So here I am!
Riverside Park in general is very nice. There’s a very high thin bridge over it — you climb a giant staircase to get to it, and then it takes you across the valley with the river and the railroad station, and when you get to the other side, you are “high” enough to be on level with “Low” Street 🙂
The bridge is quite romantic. But we also thought that maybe it could benefit from some of Biden’s infrastructure funds.
We went to the Dellinger Mill. It’s “in the middle of nowhere” but nowhere is very beautiful, very lovely. It’s in the North Carolina mountains close to Tennessee; it’s on a long winding road and nestled in trees. And it’s been there since 1867.
The man who owns it, Jack Dellinger, is 94 years old and was standing in pride of place at the very spot where corn meal pours out from a chute, explaining all about it. He held onto the wood beams around him as he stood there and reminisced.
I always thought that a mill would be a huge enterprise, but no, this one is so small and simple. And it’s the exact same structure, the exact same tools as when the mill was first built by Jack’s granddaddy Reuben in 1867. Or was it great-granddaddy? Mr. Jack pointed out to us a beam running under the platform — it was huge, and it came from an American chestnut tree — a species that’s now extinct. He said that once, a man showed up and offered 140,000 dollars for that beam, but Mr. Jack wouldn’t part with it. It would ruin the mill.
The mill uses still the same grinding stones as it did in 1867; and the same wheel; and the same belts to pull the wheel. The water is diverted from the Cane River, slipping through a wooden path built over our heads like an elevated avenue. It’s really cute, like a little roller coaster track, or like a secret tunnel (except we can all see it) where Cinderella’s mice go scurrying in the night. The mill wheel — which is really big — just needs a little bit of water in order to turn it, so the avenue for the mice is not watertight — underneath the chute it goes drip-drip-drip all along in rivulets.
Mr. Jack said that his great-granddaddy Reuben was married to Mary Jane. There’s an entry in the diary of Reuben’s brother, who lived just next-door, dated from 1869. It goes, “Mary Jane was smashed flat.” What happened was, the millers’ wives all had to help their husbands with the work, and as Mary Jane was working, her long skirts got caught in the grinding stones and she couldn’t get loose. She was only 31 😦 What an awful end.
Mr. Jack himself was always good in math at school, but he didn’t pursue that right after he finished with high school. Instead, he joined the army. They sent him to Alaska, where they could see Siberia upon take-off or landing of the Air Force plans (this part reminded me a bit of something Sarah Palin once said) and from there they sent him to Japan. This was during the Korean War.
When he was out of the army, he went to NC State to study electrical engineering on the GI Bill. And when he was done, I think he maybe went back to work in the army. But the army was paying 110 dollars a month, whereas an industry engineering job got you 5000 a year — and some engineers, depending on which company they worked for, got over twice that. He got an interview to be part of a submarine outfit, but he realized he didn’t fancy being in a tiny cabin underwater. So he passed on that, and it was lucky, because the next place he got an interview at was IBM. They told him, “we like your record, but we don’t have an opening for an electrical engineer. How would you like to be a computer software engineer instead?”
Jack said, “what’s that?” But he got the job anyways. This was 1958.
A few months later, he found himself up in Poughkeepsie, New York, freezing cold through the winters, working for IBM. His first assignment was working for a spy outfit. He needed a top level security clearance for that, so the FBI showed up in the NC mountains and interviewed everyone that Mr. Jack had ever known. They didn’t say why they were asking nosy questions about him, so everyone assumed he must be in trouble. We knew he’d come to no good.
Back in Poughkeepsie, Mr. Jack kept talking about how much he missed the South. His bosses didn’t understand what anyone would miss about the South, but to placate him, they finally transferred him to the Maryland office (that was the furthest south they could imagine anything being).
Maryland was not much better, though, with the cold winter, and the DC traffic was a nightmare. He kept asking his supervisor about an opening even further South, and finally, one day, a notice went up. It said, “volunteers wanted.” Usually when they asked for volunteers, that wasn’t good, but in this case, it said that IBM had won a 25 million dollar contract to help NASA land people on the moon (it was 1961 or 1963.) And they wanted people to go to Huntsville, Alabama, in order to work on that. Mr. Jack ran into his supervisor’s office right away, and right away, he was put on the team. He ended up on a team of seven engineers, and they wrote the computer program for the spacecraft that landed Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin on the Moon. According to Mr. Jack, after it was all said and done, he had four Sprites with Neil Armstrong (it wasn’t actually Sprite, I’m just sanitizing.)
So that is the story of the Dellinger Mill in the North Carolina mountains.
One day I was riding around in the mountains, and we passed a sign for “Crossnore, 5 miles.” I sat and thought, Crossnore, Crossnore … where have I heard that before?
The only thing I could think of was reading the book “The Suitcases” in middle school, which I had really, really loved, and re-read many times. But I don’t think I’ve re-read it now for many years. It’s the story of three girls who are half-orphans. Then their father abandons them in the middle of the Great Depression, and they have to make their own way after that.
I loved that book so much that I wanted to have three dolls, or three girls, or three something, that I could also name Betty, Anne, and Caroline.
Any case, in the book, the girl Anne ends up going to a boarding school for orphans. Except I couldn’t exactly remember if this was truly the case, because I remembered for sure that the three girls finally end up with a good and protective foster mother … and if that was the case, why would Anne have left and gone off to a boarding school? Plus, I was getting confused because there’s another book I’ve read, long ago — also re-read many times — which also involves some sort of neglected girl and she ends up at a college in Kentucky — I’m pretty sure it’s Berea College. And OMG — I can’t even remember what the name of this book is at the moment! Any case, I was certain that Berea College had figured in stories about neglected girls — so was there room for another at Crossnore?
We ended up driving through Crossnore and what gave it away was the big sign saying “school and children’s home.” I also later looked it up and yes, indeed — Crossnore was where Anne went to boarding school. I couldn’t believe it. It was a book I’d loved so much, and here I was seeing the place where Anne spent a few years of her girlhood (Anne is a real person).
And I saw not just the school …
but also the church …
and this beautiful set of statues of children:
It’s a really cute village. They have art installations, apparently, and a bookstore and coffee shop and a second-hand store, and I would have gone into them all but for COVID.
There is one intersection in the town, and then the school is set up the hills behind. In the middle of the intersection is a stone fountain and a bench. Isn’t it sweet?
AGU is a conference held in December each year, about a week before Christmas. AGU stands for American Geophysical Union. It’s more interesting than it sounds, promise! Usually it’s held in San Francisco. I’ve been a couple of time.
This past December, I had three talks at AGU. Two were invited. I felt very special.
Then from Los Angeles, I took mostly an overnight bus north. Overnight so I wouldn’t waste a day traveling. The bus literally does run all night long, and at long last, just after sunrise (it was winter, so the sunrise was kind of late), we arrived in San Francisco. I stayed for a week, gave my 3 talks, and it was great.
I think bus #84 is my favorite in Houston. It goes to many comforting places: two movie theatres, the Ikea, and the Houston Arboretum.
To be fair, it doesn’t exactly go past the Ikea. It goes instead to the Northwest Transit Center. The Northwest Transit Center always struck me as a lonely, ugly, heartless spot. But then I discovered that you can walk — and there’s a sidewalk the whole way — to the Ikea from there in like 15 or 20 minutes. It’s so nice! And on the way to Ikea, you pass one of the movie theatres.
So you can get candy from Ikea, and look at all the furniture, and then go back and watch a movie and eat popcorn, all in one go, and without having to drive.
If it’s a super hot day, and you don’t want to walk 20 minutes to Ikea, just transfer to either bus #49 or #39 at the Northwest Transit Center. Those two buses will take you to Ikea in about 2 minutes (the third stop).
As long as you bought your bus ticket through a mobile app or through a “q-card”, you don’t have to worry about paying extra money for the transfer. In fact, you have three hours in which to make the transfer.
Before bus #84 gets to the Transit Center (its very last stop), it trudges through all these neighborhoods in Houston. I took that bus a couple of times in November. Some of the streets we passed through were lit up in a splendid burst of golden Christmas lights — it was magical.
After it leaves the city neighborhoods, bus #84 goes zooming out onto a freeway. This freeway is of course packed with cars, and in common Houston standards, is all an ugly succession of concrete pillars and dull asphalt and pollution. But do you know what this freeway is acting as a border to? To a nice, lovely piece of greenery in the city — a large plot of land — miles across and throughout, so I’m sure you could get lost in it and forget the city. This plot of green is made up of Memorial Park and the Houston Arboretum. I’m not exactly sure where one ends and the other begins, but if you get off on the right bus stop on the freeway, you just have to walk about 11 minutes down a side road, and you get to the Arboretum. It’s a “natural” arboretum — so it’s not full of manicured lawns and flowers. Instead, they’ve tried to recreate natural ecosystems — forests in one area, swamps in another. On Saturday mornings, you can get a free guided hike on one of the trails. So I just love the idea of first catching the bus there (so you don’t have to deal with a car or pollute), and then being dropped off on the side of the freeway, and then letting your footsteps take you from the din of traffic to the peace of the park (except not really, because the sound of the cars follows you there), and being all surrounded by nature and people who care enough to volunteer to show you around the trees.
My only complaint about bus #84 is that it comes by only every 30 minutes on weekends. I had to take another bus to get to the Buffalo Speedway intersection where I could board bus #84. Sometimes, the first bus arrived like a minute after bus #84 had already whizzed through. So I’d have to wait a whole ‘nother half hour until the next one arrived.
Sometimes bus #84 is late getting to the stop at Buffalo Speedway. When that happens, the bus driver goes a little beserk, speeding through town, and somehow incredibly managing to arrive at the Northwest Transit Center right on the dot of the top of the hour, or the half hour, so you can run to your transfer bus before they all depart.
One more nice thing about the Transit Center: from it, you can catch a bus all the way out to Hammerly. It’s as far out as the buses go in the northwest direction of Houston, if you ride the bus to the end of its line before it turns back to the Transit Center. You end up in a place that still is all commercial and filled with zooming traffic; but there’s also tracts of trees, and it’s a little quieter. It just feels a little more soft and secluded than Houston proper.
I once wrote about finding Carl Larsson cards in Berkeley, California, and in Davis, California.
Well, I have found some more Carl Larsson artifacts in the US.
First, you can go to Solvang, California, and there’s a store there that sells magnets with Carl Larsson paintings on them. I don’t want to mention the name of the store, because I a little confused as to whether I want to bring them more business, because they seem to have a lot of bad reviews for rudeness. Also, I don’t 100% remember, but I might have bought all the Carl Larsson magnets they had, anyways. I bought thre. It was so glorious!! As the store reviews predicted, the women at the register were surly. And then, like an idiot, right after paying for the magnets, I left them there at the counter and walked out the store without them! And they closed about a minute later! And it wasn’t until about 30 minutes later that I was frantically searching my purse and came up empty-handed of my Carl Larsson magnets. We went back to the store, but the lights were out, and it was empty. I was heart-broken all night. The next morning, I called them, though, and they had indeed found the magnets, and they shipped them for free to North Carolina. So that was actually very nice of them. I mostly took the train home from California to North Carolina, with a 3-day stop in Chicago, but actually I beat the magnets home by a day.
The second Carl Larsson place for artifacts is the gift shop of the Swedish-American museum in Chicago. Maybe it’s just a winter thing, but they were selling Carl Larsson winter cards. And for far cheaper than if you ordered them online from Pomegranate. I bought a box so that I’ll have it ready for next year. It was great!
I wrote once about the first time I ever found bokmärken in the US. It was such a wonderful occasion.
I went back to Payn’s Stationary story when I visited San Francisco again in December 2019 for a conference. He was still selling bokmärken, and there were different varieties than the last time I’d been there a year and a half previously. It was delicious! I bought a whole bunch, and the guy at the register, who I guess maybe was the owner, told me: oh, I’m going to have to order more of these now!
He said that he orders them from some whole-saler who imports them from Europe. He just orders more as he needs them. Yes, you keep doing that.
And then about a week later, I visited Solvang in southern California. This town is built as a “traditional Danish settlement”, though I don’t know exactly how much real Danish history that town has. Whatever the case may be, there’s lots of stores there that sell trinkets, and among them was a store entirely dedicated to Christmas stuff. It was called Jule-something. Amidst all the Christmas ornaments and decorations, I found a shelf drowning in bokmärken! It was so wonderful. And they were selling for cheaper than at Payn’s! Like half-price. I bought all I wanted (maybe 6 sheets), and although I got some Christmasy ones, I also got frogs, and fairytales, and flowers, and all sorts.
However, the sad news is that according to the cashiers, their supplier of bokmärken is no longer selling them or something. So I think that stash on that shelf might be the last of them. Maybe they’re just slowing going to wean themselves off of that particular piece of merchandise. It’s a shame.
I actually only saw the end of this one, but there were three things to mention:
1) On this day, there were 853,000 cases globally. In Sweden, there were 4947 cases. Out of those, 512 people had become sick during the last day. There were 393 people in the intensive care. Anders Tegnell, the national epidemiologist, stated about this: our curve is starting to look steeper. There were 239 dead.
2) For the first time, one of the people doing the sign language was a man:
3) At the end, when they were back in the studio, they were analyzing whether or not the list of recommendations from the government was too long, too much too follow … were all the measures and communications clear? The reporter in the studio gave her opinion: I think the recommendations have all been very clear …
… and I think she said that in response to people who tweet like this, who seems quite honestly super annoying. This tweeter seems like someone who moves to a new place and goes, OMG, OMG, OMG, please recognize what a great person I am, OMG, and in order to prove that I don’t actually care what you think, let me breathlessly list all the ways you’re failing.
There’s a little town called Solvang in California, about an hour from Santa Barbara. It bills itself as an original Danish settlement, and gets a lot of tourists coming to its quaint shops and cafes and all. But a lot of people call it a bit overdone and kitschy.
I went with a friend during my swing through California by bus and train last winter. And we stumbled onto the set of a movie. I guess it’s not surprising, we were 2 or 3 hours from LA, but I’m not used to that kind of thing!
The movie was meant for either Hallmark or Lifetime. Let me tell you what happens. There’s a tall, handsome man called Sawyer, and there’s a shorter, very blonde, long-haired, pretty woman — I believe she was called Ms. Lane. Well, they are going to fall in love and get married (lucky guess), but we didn’t see that part. We saw the part where they were having an argument. Sawyer is from Solvang, or lives there, and is very attached to the town, and he is showing Ms. Lane around. Ms. Lane is a journalist and is writing a book. The argument starts because Ms. Lane denigrates what Sawyer has been showing her — she wants the real Solvang, not the tired tourist traps. And Sawyer gets mad. “You know what! I don’t think I could ever show you the real Solvang! And it’s not Solvang’s fault! It’s because your heart is closed off to the true meaning of Christmas!” (It was just before Christmas, and the town was decked out!)
Then Sawyer turns on his heel and marches away. Ms. Lane sends a flabbergasted look after him.
They were filming all this right between the entrance of two stores with an extra dash of Christmas lights and decorations glistening over the doorways. During takes (they did at least 15), all the real tourists like us either had to stay inside the store we were in, or had to wait outside. So we waited and waited, switching our position between the two stores, and then playing audience outside, so we caught the scene from all angles.
In between takes, Ms. Lane, who was very fashionably and thinly dressed the better to catch her slim figure, covered up from the cold in a bulky puffy winter jacket. So really, what you see on TV is not real!!
I’ve been on the two-day California Zephyr between Chicago and San Francisco; the two-night/one-day Sunset Limited between Houston and Los Angeles; and the two-day Southwest Chief between Los Angeles and Chicago.
So, in terms of your basic needs (sleep, food, using the bathroom, and, if you like, prayer), how will you survive??
First, know the layout of the train. The trains are pretty cute because they have all these nice touches — like the bathrooms and luggage storage are neatly on the first floor of each carriage, and then you climb these cute little stairs — and it makes you feel like you’re tiptoeing into a new land, past this realm and into the next — and then you’re on the second floor of the carriage, and that’s where the seats are [**if you don’t really think stairs are that cute because you might have trouble climbing them, then no fear — some of the carriages are arranged with seats for disabled or elderly passengers on the first floor]. Across each window are curtains that you can pull back and forth. Then you can walk through your carriage, and the next and the next, and you’ll finally get to a nice big carriage that’s the observation car. There’s no regular seats, just lounge chairs and tables. It’s like your parlor. Below is a cafe car with turkey sandwiches, yummy grapes, and ginger ale, and cheese pizzas, and cheese and crackers, and vegan burgers (quite a nice kitchen).
This account, by the way, is for passengers, like me, too poor to buy a sleeper car. You have only enough to buy a coach seat. Technically, that means you are entitled to exactly one seat, but just listen here. There’s a very good chance you can nab a seat with no one sitting next to you, and if that’s the case, you just stretch out on both seats at night when it’s time to sleep and you’ll be very comfortable. Especially so, because the seats have these massive leg-rests that you pull out from right underneath. It makes the seats twice as wide. So if you lie down, and you have your knees curled up and jutting out a little, they’ll still be supported underneath.
Depending on what train and when you get on, there’s some strategies involved for having two coach seats to yourself all night long:
Strategy #1: you board the train in the middle of its journey. That, at least, has been my experience. This is what I mean. I boarded the California Zephyr at its starting point in Chicago. I was assigned a seat next to someone else. Likewise, I boarded the Southwest Chief at its starting point in Los Angeles. Again, I was assigned a seat beside someone. On the other hand, I boarded the Sunset Limited in Houston. The Sunset Limited had already been chugging all day coming out from New Orleans. Well, all of us passengers boarding in Houston were placed in an empty car, and there were so few of us that everyone (except families who wanted to sit together) got their own seat. It was so comfortable! And throughout the rest of the journey, really no newly boarding passengers were introduced into our carriage, so we stayed the same amount of people and never had to share seats the whole way.
Strategy #2: go get yourself a new seat. So suppose you are in fact boarding the train at its very first stop, and the Amtrak workers herd everyone into a single car. This is exactly what happened to me when boarding the Southwest Chief in Los Angeles. There was a horde of passengers who boarded in LA. Also, they segregate you based on your final location. So everyone who was going from Los Angeles to Chicago had to sit together in the same car, and we filled up the entire thing (and there are like 60 seats per car). I had to sit next to this 70-year-old man who told me, yes, his 50-year marriage had been long, nice, but happy? Um … Well, any case, he was really nice, but by the second night onboard, I really really wanted to stretch out. Every time I took a stroll up and down the train, I would pass through these other carriages where the passengers were not crammed together side by side. Everyone had two seats to their credit, and there were even some empty seats. Those were the lucky passengers who had boarded at stops beyond Los Angeles — they had more room just to themselves, just like I’d had when I boarded the Sunset Limited midway in Houston. So I just took it upon myself, in the evening of that second night, to move to one of those empty seats. I took the little ticket tag that the Amtrak attendants leave hanging over your seat assignment, and re-inserted it at my new seat of choice. It was bad luck, because the Amtrak attendants had cleverly written what my seat number was in the old carriage (seat 8). Well, seat 8 was taken in the new carriage, so I couldn’t do the thing seamlessly, but I found that seat 58 was empty, so that seemed the best bet. Well, no one said anything at all. I had the nicest night ever, lying down and curled up under my blanket and coat, and the next morning, in fact, the Amtrak attendants had swapped out all the ticket tags anyways with new ones. I now fit right in.
Now, this does not always work, but it was my experience on the Sunset Limited, the California Zephyr, and the Southwest Chief. I will add that I did all three of these train trips in December, anywhere from three weeks to one week before Christmas (the time of your trip might affect the crowds).
I have seen other people sleep on the floor of the large bathroom for people with disabilities. You open up the door, and surprise! Someone’s spread out in front of you. It kind of gave me a fright. I do not recommend this.
Once, I was on a 1-day, 1-night trip from San Francisco to Portland, Oregon. That train was miserably crowded. It’s called the Coastal Starlight. There’s not much of the magic and mystery of starlight onboard that train, believe me, both times I’ve been on it. I could not find any empty seats anywhere, but I was able to find 2 or 3 seats free to sleep on in the Observation car. So go check that out if you have nowhere else to go.
Last but not least, bring a blanket and a coat so you can be toasty and warm.
You are going to be doing a lot of sitting, so you don’t need a lot of food. Also, the bathroom situation is not as comfortable as you’d probably like, so the less you eat, the better from that aspect.
On the other hand, you will want to eat because what’s cozier than stuffing your face as you watch the vast landscapes of the country unfold out the window? Here’s how I managed. For breakfast, the best cost-benefit analysis seems to be to go to the dining car and eat their scrambled eggs. It’s pretty good, and it comes with a side of potatoes (or grits, but yuck), and a small croissant. Slather everything with butter (I end up using like 8 of those little butter tubs, which are free and available), and that will be quite nice and filling. It’s $8.50, and that’s about the price of scrambled eggs and potatoes in most cafes, no? And it will last your stomach a long time. That is honestly the only thing I recommend you get from the dining cars. I do not recommend the dining car menu for lunch or dinner. First, the food doesn’t sound all that good — and the stuff that did sound good had pork sausage in it, or something, so I couldn’t eat it anyways. There was stuff like seafood, which I don’t really like. And for dinner, there’s an option of a big steak. Now, this is the last thing you should eat onboard a train when the bathroom situation is so dire. When I was on the Sunset Limited, everyone who ate the steak woke up the next morning complaining about how many times they’d had to use the bathroom, and how crummy they felt. You don’t want this to be you. They do have this nice pasta dish for dinner — but it’s $16 and I don’t think it’s worth it.
But you can’t survive all day on just scrambled eggs, so what to do? Well, instead of the dining car, go to the cafe car for lunch and dinner. The offerings are pretty good. There’s chicken sandwiches, turkey sandwiches, and you can grab as much mayo and mustard as you like; there’s small cheese pizzas and vegan burgers and fruit and crackers and cheese and chips and big juicy grapes and chocolate and other comfort food. Now, the prices are quite high for what you’re buying, but cheaper than the dining car. They also sells all sorts of sodas, but I don’t recommend buying those — empty calories, and more bathroom trips, and too expensive.
And last but not least, bring lots and lots of snacks with you. I think about a third of my suitcase was just snacks — both salty and sweet. I had:
I had 12 little packets of tiny fudge-dipped oreos, yum, yum, yum, except I don’t know if these packets were a good idea. Each one only had like 7 cookies in it. Maybe buy a few of the larger packets instead
three apples as a way to clean out my refrigerator
eight packs of wheat-and-cheddar sandwich crackers, each of which had 6 little cracker sandwiches in it
and something else I don’t remember.
These were nice choices because everything was so individually packaged; so eating one little packet in one go would not result in any contamination of the remaining packets. Nor, like if you bring a big bag of chips, for example, would you have to leave it partially uneaten, leaving it open to the possibilities of spills or messiness. One the other hand, the individual packaging is not good for the environment. On the other hand, you’re on the train instead of the plane, so you’re already doing (almost) the most good you can.
I ate the snacks whenever I wanted; and had scrambled eggs for breakfast; and would buy one single sandwich from the cafe car at night; and one night I was feeling kind of full, so instead of a sandwich I had juicy grapes; and that was it! The snacks lasted two cross-country train trips, several overnight bus trips, and the various stays along the way — it was three weeks in total.
Also, if you are on the Sunset Limited, there’s a certain stop — but I don’t remember which — was it El Paso? — where someone called the burrito lady is standing outside the train tracks, and has a sack full of warm burritos in all flavors, and sells them. The vegetarian ones were only $2. They weren’t that great, to be honest. But very popular. We stopped in El Paso for like 30 minutes, so there was time for everyone who wanted to buy one. She will sell it to you and then give you a Christian blessing.
If you are on the Southwest Chief, the station in Albuquerque has a restaurant with burgers and pizza. That was very popular, too, though again, I’m not sure if greasy food is the best choice for your train trip. And that brings us to the next topic:
The way the trains are set up, the bathrooms are all on the first floor of the train, and the seats are all above on the second floor, once you slip behind the bend of the little magic staircase. It’s nice that way, because although you can get up those stairs, the smells of the bathroom mostly don’t seem to follow.
Now, what about the bathrooms themselves? There are about 5 per first first floor, all smushed into one half of the car, and they are tiny closets mostly. Actually, way smaller than most closets. I’m small-sized, and really there was not enough room for me between the door, the toilet, and the sink. It’s kind of gross. But there’s three other options:
1) at the very end of the hallway with the bathrooms, there’s one more door, with a slightly different sign. It’s a “lounge”. You go into the lounge, it has two sinks in it and a cushioned bench and a big mirror. You can brush your hair and do your make-up here, if you like, or freshen up. And there’s one more door inside the lounge, and that goes to one more closet-sized bathroom. It’s still small, but it should mostly be women using this bathroom. So less traffic and a little neater. I recommend it.
2) the bathroom for handicapped people and elderly. This is a large bathroom present on the first floor of the cars. But not all the cars. Sometimes, the first floor is split between racks for luggage on one side, and the bathrooms on the other side. Other times the first floor is split between seats for elderly and disabled passengers one side, and bathrooms on the other. If the cars has the seats for the elderly and disabled on the first floor, then it also has a large bathroom, with plenty of room to move around in. The trick is, if your particular car does not have this bathroom, then just go to the next car over. Is it wrong of me to recommend that people who are able-bodied use this handicapped bathroom? Hmmm, that actually only just occurred to me. Just don’t stay in there too long in case someone who actually cannot use the regular bathrooms is in need.
3) if the closest-sized bathrooms in your car are really dirty, then again, go over to the next car and see if those bathrooms are any better.
I will write another post about prayer on the train, stay tuned.
Think of the train ride as part of your trip, and enjoy it. Most likely, you’ll get to talk to some friendly, interesting people, and be alone with your own thoughts. Don’t count on having wifi. Enjoy the scenery. Enjoy the escape. Just cuddle up on your seat, alone with yourself and your thoughts, and let the train rock and hold you tight.