When I originally checked the path of the California Zephyr Amtrak train, it just gave the larger stops, so I had looked forward to stopping at Denver for half an hour. I wanted to have the luxury of peeing on a non-moving surface, have a look at the surrounding area and buy toothpaste. The first two items were easy enough, the purchase of toothpaste proved to be impossible. I associate train stations in Europe with run-down areas, cheap shops, seedy hotels, but not Denver (nor indeed, later, Chicago). The surrounding area had very upmarket shops. I had expected the station itself to have one of those shops that sells sweets, newspapers, crisps and travel essentials like toothpaste. But there were simply two comfortable upmarket restaurants and a couple of stores selling childrens toys and clothes, neither of which had prices visible. I wouldn’t have had time to have a high-end eating experience anyhow, but it makes me wonder about who they are catering for. The people who are in first-class, with sleepers, were paying a great deal more than me, so maybe they are popping in for a better meal than the train supplies, while on a break from travelling. Or maybe railway stations have become destinations for the non-travelling public. Not something I can imagine in Ireland – but you never know whats coming – anyone for a Heuston Station gourmet experience?
A really fast train leaving Denver, more than an hour late, hopping off the (uneven) tracks, so bumpy that it woke even a stalward sleeper like myself, more than once. They had said that they’d make up the time, and they sure tried. We covered almost the whole of Nebraska during the night, and woke as the train filled up at Lincoln. A mixed bunch of Nebraskans, including a group of Amish (I think), the women all wearing long outfits and bonnets or scarves, older women in black, the younger ones in pale blue or white scarves, and I even saw a babe-in-arms wearing a little black bonnet with veil. The men all have huge beards and pudding bowl haircuts, the underage boys are clean-shaven but have the same Jack of Clubs look. They wear shirts and waistcoats (vests) and wool trousers, and are serious, no frivolity thanks. One just passed by, bald on top, with a pudding bowl haircuts of what’s left. I guess it looks grand once you have the large-framed black hat so beloved of them.
The weather was dull and overcast, the scenery endless farmland, brown as far as the eye can see, with tinges of green coming through. I can’t really vouch for Nebraska, but for the bit I saw, it was very similar to Iowa. Flat brown farmland, an occasional house to be seen, but not an animal nor human several hours. The prairie/fields would be 20, maybe 50 acres each, either ploughed or with the remnants of last year’s cornstalks. Coming in to Osceola, there were several farm machinery outlets, and Casey’s gas station, O’Reilly Auto Parts. The Irish got here too. Lots of low-rise housing with heaps of rusting vehicles or rubbish around the back of the house. Nobody has anything resembling a garden, just brown patches of grass in the yard. Iowa was the first state that had obvious solar farming. I did wonder about that while travelling up through California, but reading further, I guess they do the sensible thing and put the solar farms in the desert in Southern California, where there’s sun year round. “And now, swampland on the edge of town turns into forest, huge bare oak, Christmas trees, the ghost of a creek. Finally, birds – a flock settles on a huge grain silo. Just had a nap and woke to more brown fields. I wonder are the cattle indoors because of weather. Back in Nevada and Utah, we saw cattle grazing scutch and scrub in the desert, wild deer, wild turkey. Here, not an animal to be seen in the last four hours (since daybreak). Still, lots of bare trees and shrubs, must be lovely in summer.
And eventually, industrial production – a huge factory pumping out toxic fumes, a big scrapyard with ancient cars lined up for spare parts. I’m taking a trip to the Observation Deck, where I realised the Amish are speaking a funny mixed dialect of German, and Swiss German”. Stopping at Ottumwa, trailer park, farm machinery outlets, low-rise buildings, Ministry Center. An opportunity to get outside for 5 mins. I had made friends with the smokers at this stage, and we cracked jokes with the Amish men, who stepped out en masse to smoke. All of them missing teeth – I wondered if they were allowed modern dental care. Looking it up, I found out that the cost of insurance usually stops them from going to the dentist, and many of them actually choose to have their teeth removed and wear dentures, in preference to having ongoing dental problems. A couple of the Amish women also came out to the platform, but neither spoke nor smoked, and indeed, weren’t interested in catching a few steps like myself.
The approach to Chicago was tremendously exciting for me. I was planning to check bags at the station, walk up to the Art Institute for a browse, then meet Claudia for the first time in 10 years. When I was on Erasmus in Berlin in 2013/14, I looked after her lovely children, Zora, 10, and Alexander 7, who are now 20 and 17 respectively. Stopping at Naperville station, not too far from Chicago, I realised that tiny snowflakes were falling. The train was late, of course, and it was nearer 4pm than the planned 2.45pm when we arrived and I got myself organised, walking past an impressive String Quartet playing in the Great Hall of the Chicago Union Station. I slid my way into the centre of Chicago through snow and sleet, a most impressive looking city, the first one in the USA, perhaps in the world, to build skyscrapers. It took me an age to actually find my bearings, but I did find the Art Institute, just closing, and eventually the fabulous Palmer House Hotel, an amazing structure built by Potter Palmer for his bride Bertha Honore Palmer at the end of the 19th century. Here I found my friend Claudia, and we took a chunk of time to talk, catch up, drink tea, enjoy our lovely surroundings. Though Claudia had to return to the conference, I found a corner and took a great break from train life. Back down to the train for 9.30, the slush had melted. We waited in the Grand Hall to be called, and queued airport-style, till we were allowed onto the train in batches. Here we were assigned seats by a bossy woman. We were late, of course, again. We organised our little corners for sleep – me thanking my lucky stars that I still had nobody in the other seat, for the present. The train wasn’t half as spacious as the California Zephr, which made it less comfortable. The toilets weren’t as clean, there was no cafe til the morning. In fact, the passengers were mostly working men, maybe in construction, perhaps having a long commute to a job in New York, or Chicago. I slept okay while we passed through Ohio and Pennsylvania, waking to eat the last of my picnic for brekky and early lunch. When we moved into Upstate New York, the scenery and the houses got prettier, but the snow started to fall in earnest. There was a problem ahead so all those bound for Syracuse had to get off at Rochester and be bussed there, including all the Amish group, who’s eventual destination was somewhere in Oklahoma – though it seemed a roundabout way of getting there.
Coming into Albany, there was thick snow, and I dreaded that I’d have a difficult time getting around New York City, but as the train travelled down from the heights to the city, the snow disappeared, and after appropriately named Hudson town, that great river was beside us all the way into the city. We caught glimpses of the Empire State Building in the distance, and passed through Yonkers but mostly, we had a view of the other bank, which is New Jersey. We got in to Penn Station about 45 minutes late, and it took a further 20 minutes or so to locate Kimmy, but I had arrived! And New York City didn’t disappoint.
Berlin Erasmus 
Sounds like the trains and tracks need upgrading. In my selling travel days, Amtrak never had a great reputation