High up, looking down from the north side of the Monongahela River from Mount Washington, I reflected on the quality of American cuisine. It doesn't matter how you cut it, it's not good. Downtown, the culinary scene in Pittsburgh (and most other places in the USA) is dominated by sports bars, fries and burgers, the word 'chipotle' annoys me too, and after a while I start to feel almost nauseous at the thought of going out for dinner as I know what it will mean. It's not worth ordering dessert because it's going to be big and it's going to be sickly. Add to this mess an edgy week and you might begin to understand how I was feeling. Perhaps I never really recovered from the jet lag. I mean, I never really dealt with it; I simply went to bed, woke up six hours later in the dead of night and then stayed up, fretting about this and that, mostly travel hassles. But now, looking out over the city of Pittsburgh, with a bird's eye view of all three rivers: the Monongahela, the Allegheny and the Ohio, I'm beginning to feel at peace with the world.
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| The view from the terrace of the Coal Hill steakhouse, Mount Washington |
I'm sitting on the terrace of the Coal Hill Steakhouse, recommended to me by Darryl, the hotel's bell captain, admiring the view with a bowl of tomato and basil soup in front of me, a good book (Will Self's
Psychogeography) and a beer (non-alcohol) and I'm starting to chill out for the first time in almost a week. My chilled soul was beginning to thaw, let's say. As I sat there listening to the noise of distant motorcycles racing around the downtown below me, I thought of my colleague who is flying home from New York tonight. When I wake up in the morning, he'll be home and for him, that word 'chipotle' will be but a distant memory, along with the fries and the stodge. It's no wonder that some Americans are obese, it's their diet. Somebody tell them.
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| Another great view... |
The hotel shuttle took me up to Mount Washington, but I came down on the Duquesne Incline railway, a steep drop down the side of the 'mountain'. If whatever was holding the car snapped, it would be awful, truly terrifying. I mentioned this to a young couple travelling down with me and they shuddered at the thought. They both hailed from El Paso, a good four to five hours of flying away, they said, and two flights: one to Houston and then to El Paso. It's hard to comprehend the size of the USA, but suffice it to say it's huge, and especially the state of Texas. After bidding goodbye to the young couple who, it turned out, didn't eat at the Coal Hill Steakhouse - they were ignored by the waiter so they upped and left - I found myself down by the river walking nonchalantly towards the Sheraton, past a floodlit football pitch where different groups of boys played the beautiful game. The light was fading and I was glad to be reaching the hotel.
Was the food at the Coal Hill Steakhouse any good? No, it wasn't and it was far too pricey for what it was. I sympathised with the young couple who decided to leave and suggested they tried a place called Eleven, where I had enjoyed lunch (and a dessert) although it was a cut above the average restaurant in town and I knew it well from a previous trip to Pittsburgh. It's been a good three years, but it's still going strong, which is good to know.
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| Amtrak station in Pittsburgh PA |
When I got back to the room I started to pack things up and organise myself for tomorrow's trip, packing stuff away and making sure I hadn't left anything behind in the room. I've not allowed myself any time to recover from the initial jet lag and with all the worry associated with what happened, I started to get a little panicky. I thought I'd lost my Amtrak ticket (I hadn't, but I thought I had). So I took a cab to Penn Station (I think that's what it's called) and got issued with another ticket. I didn't want to take any chances. Now I have two tickets. When I got back to the room I found it, where I left it, in my case. After what happened I'm not taking any chances.
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| Luxury train travel at its best... |
When the taxi turned up to take me to the station I noticed there were two black women, one driving and one in the passenger seat. "I don't like draavin' alone at night," said the driver and went on to explain that the city 'ain't that safe'. She has eight children, four boys, four girls, from different fathers and lives out Homestead way. One of her daughters kept calling her. "Tell her mom's busy earning money," she told her friend of more than 20 years. I said it must be great driving around at night with your best pal. She waited for me to sort out my ticket and then drove me back to the hotel.
I slept until around 0400hrs (which has been the norm all week) then I finished off the packing, checking that everything was out of the room before I left. This week I've been jinxed with bad luck so I wasn't taking any chances. I checked out and Nate was on the front desk so we exchanged pleasantries. He apologised again for the hassles I'd had and I said it wasn't a problem (it was a big problem, but I was being polite). The shuttle ran me up to the station and after standing around for a short while we boarded the train.
The train is luxurious: plenty of legroom, comfortable seats, curtains, power points, it's absolutely wonderful and definitely my preferred mode of transport. I'm riding all the way to New York, 11 hours, and I'm looking forward to this like you wouldn't believe. Despite all the grief I'd had, I managed to get all my work done and, as I write this, the train's about to make it's first stop. I think it's Greensburg. I've just had breakfast (vanilla yoghurt with blueberries and granola and a mint tea) and I can't tell you how chilled I am right now. This train's going to make 16 stops before it reaches New York and right now that's fine with me. We're now edging out of Greensburg and it's great to be able to see some of the towns on the outskirts of Pittsburgh. The train's picking up speed and we're leaving the town behind. There's another stop in about 10 minutes and I'm just hoping that it doesn't get too crowded, I'm sure it won't.
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| Coal Hill Steakhouse |
There's something relaxing about train travel and I love it. I've always wanted to take the train in the USA, but the opportunity has never arose, until now, although I didn't really have much option. Without a passport I couldn't take the plane as I don't have any photo ID and I spoke to somebody at the convention who said it's a hassle traveling without a passport, and besides, I don't want to take any chances. Furthermore, going by air to NY would be pricey and there's always the cab into town at the other end. The train goes straight into Manhattan.
I wouldn't say it was a completely smooth ride. The train jolts and rattles its way into the next stop, Latrobe, another pleasant little town surrounded by woodland. I guess that 'nothin' much happens round here'. The next stop is Johnstown, in about 45 minutes. We pass a parking lot with mustard yellow school buses sitting around doing nothing and then we dive into the woods. The sun is trying to break through and it looks like being another great day.
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| The ride down to the river was great fun... |
Americans love their verandas. Every house has one, or seems to, and there are dream catchers and chairs, sometimes barbecue equipment, all out front, and let's face it, it's probably quite pleasant on a summer's evening, sitting outside with friends and family chatting and eating as the night sets in.
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| It's a long way down... |
The train's got free WiFi that works well. No signing in, it's just there and that's good. No faffing around. There's a restaurant car (where I'll be headed at lunch time, but it's only 0737hrs as I write this, so there's plenty of other things to do.
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| Looking out of the window... |
There's a massive river out of my window on the left hand side of the train and a wooded hill on the far bank. There's been a fair bit of fog too and plenty of greenery. I wonder if there's any bears out there? That's been on my mind: what if I was out there, camping in the woods. Would I need to worry about bears? I might have to ask somebody. I've never seen such a wide expanse of water in all my life. Easily a half mile across from bank to bank. Along the bank there is a mixture of tiny wooden shacks, trailers and houses, some rickety and old-looking, as if they'd collapse in a strong wind, others sturdy and some with the American flag flying.
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| At Philly changing the locomotive... |
As for my fellow passengers, they're all well-behaved and quiet. Nobody says a word, there's no unruly behaviour and perhaps that's because I'm in business class.
Outside the window now is row after row of container wagons advertising the Hub Group, Yang Ming, Hapag-Lloyd, UASC, Seaco, COSCO, China Shipping, and some huge, black Norfolk Southern locomotives. We're six minutes out of Harrisburg.
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| Waiting to board at Pittsburgh |
We've left Harrisburg and are gathering speed as we head out of town. Outside the window is American industry hard at work: big, rusty old buildings and conveyor belts and rail trucks, electricity pylons and rusting old locomotives.
They're warning that the train's going to be full and that we should all keep our luggage off the seats next to us. Hopefully, they don't mean business class where I'm sitting. Just in case I've moved my stuff to the racks and taken the aisle seat as I don't want to be constantly asking whoever sits next to me to get up if I want to use the bathroom.
We're about to arrive in Elizabethtown and I might sign off here and start another post for the rest of the ride. The restaurant car re-opens around 1pm, that's in about half an hour, and I might get something more to eat, although an earlier cookie and mint tea has set me up for a while.
We've just arrived at Lancaster and from my window I can see cars moving about and an American flag blowing from a flagpole. For some reason I'm reminded of Blytheville, Arkansas. The train is now on the move and it's more of the same: industrial buildings, parking lots, derelict factories. Soon there's the river again as the industrial buildings are slowly replaced by fields and trees.
For the reason why I was taking an 11-hour train journey to New York from Pittsburgh,
click here.
