"...past houses, farms and fields" to home

The snow-covered Spanish Peaks of southeastern Colorado are the first indication home is only a few hours away. We've been snaking along the old Super Chief route and are making the slow but steady climb to Raton Pass. It is a gray and wintry day, but somehow being back in the Southwest makes it less gloomy than the rust belt or the midwest. There is even a friend of Dan Fogelberg, who I shared breakfast with, playing Christmas carols in the lounge car. This just feels right. And you know that travelers have followed this route to New Mexico for hundreds of years...it feels historic, too.

Chicago was a great pick-me-up. It is as if the Grant Park celebration the night Barack was elected has never really worn off. Despite the economic woes of the country, the weekend was full of nightlife, crowds out shopping and partying in all the downtown restaurants and nightspots. Even one sort of crazy homeless fellow was singing a little song about how "he's gonna turn the economy around..." You could tell by his happy visage who the "he" was and the faith this fellow had in him. And then an Iraqi journalist threw the ultimate Arab insult at GWB in the form of his size 10 shoes and it truly became a happy, holiday weekend.

I enjoy going to Chicago to see my nephew. We share some traits in common, particularly a demand for neatness and order, and he also knows that I am not a high-maintenance uncle. We go to an Irish pub for dinner. We hit a bar after that, towing along his buddy, Emory, who seems to enjoy the Windy City experience as much as Delton does. Sunday morning we hit our usual spot for pancakes, sausage and coffee, and then after a bit of shopping it's off to Union Station to catch the Southwest Chief back to Santa Fe. I must admit, though, that as much as I look forward to ending this trip, I could have stayed a few more days in his 13th floor perch above State and Elm.

At the moment, however, we are in the tunnel you pass through to go from Colorado to New Mexico. I am going to enjoy one more lunch in a few minutes and a bit of scenery. It's not the end of the story. I'll recap it all in a few days. For now, let's just say "all is forgiven" Tony Romo. And "thanks" to WWL-AM out of New Orleans for making it possible for me to say so!

The weather outside was frightful!

What began on the sunny streets of Simi Valley came to a frosty conclusion on the streets of Montreal when Quebec was blasted by a blinding snowstorm, plummeting the temperatures in Quebec City to below zero and turning Montreal into a snowy, icy muck. Of course, it remains a very picturesque province, even under a foot of snow, but any plans for carefree wandering had to be curtailed lest an ear or two freeze up and break off. It was numbing conditions at best and absolutely unbearable the rest of the time. Fortunately, both "old quarters" have very narrow streets and tall buildings, so unless you were in a direct line with the St. Lawrence River, it was possible to get around and at least stay out of the wind.

Quebec City was definitely the more enjoyable of the two. My hotel was within sight of one of the main entrances to the Vieux Quebec on rue Saint-Jean, a main thoroughfare both then and now, so on my one full day there I bundled up in my thermal underwear and set forth through the snow. And even though I later discovered that it was barely a positive temperature reading most of the day, it was not bad. There were enough shops and galleries and cafes to browse through to continue recharging the batteries and not become frozen completely. I even broke down and bought some wool gloves, which I admit did make a bit of a difference the rest of the journey and can be useful in New Mexico. With the continuing snowfall, though, even gloves could not alter the reality that this was not going to be how I imagined this part of the trip. I had gambled on the weather and lost. Yes, the dinner at Aux Anciens Canadiens, in the oldest house in Quebec, was terrific. Who knew you could have tenderloin of wapiti? And the maple lattes put Starbucks to shame, but by Wednesday morning I was ready to go. One summer I will come back and enjoy it properly. Until then, I will simply be grateful I avoided frostbite.

Montreal, for many of the same reasons, and weather patterns, was even gloomier and grayer. so my decision to splurge on my last two nights in Canada was a prescient one. I could have remained in the Hotel Gault the entire time I was there. Behind the walls of this imposing old building on rue ste.-Helene was everything the definition of a "boutique" hotel should be. What I assume was originally a warehouse is now a 32-room, exceptionally well-run property staffed by the most personable staff I encountered across Canada. My accommodation boasted 10-foot ceilings, complete electronics, state of the art lighting and an open style bathroom and shower area in one corner. The unique feature was the room-dividing drape that could be adjusted so the sleeping and living area was completely closed off from the the entrance hall, clothes storage and remainder of the space. These photos do not do my "Extential" (as it was called) much justice. When not luxuriating there, I did walk the two or three main streets of Old Montreal, but chose to dine at bistros near the hotel on typical French cafe fare. Doing much more, once again, was not Mother Nature's intent.


Truth be told, I am writing this somewhere in Indiana, having endured a nightmare train connection in Schenectady, NY, due in large part to the severe weather that hit the northeast at the end of the week. We are more than six hours late! As we arrive in Elkhart, IN, on the way to Chicago, it strikes me that parts of this country seem so bleak. Maybe it is winter, but snow can only cover so much junk. Or maybe it is simply the reality of the economy of the rust belt. I know Chicago will be fun, but this part of the journey is, in a word, depressing. Next stop -- Elm and State Street. That great street...!

You can't spell 'moron' without 'R O M O'

I learned my lesson on the train from Halifax to Montreal. If you waste several hours holding your little Sony sport radio against the window listening to some static-filled AM broadcast from a radio station in West Virginia on the opposing team's network then you will be justly rewarded by an idiot quarterback who throws the whole damn game away in the final seconds of a contest most likely going into overtime!

Montreal's layover was only a few hours. Time enough to wander through all the connected indoor shopping malls and have a quick bite to eat at a creperie. Then it was off to Quebec City in VIA 1 business class for my two night stay in the Old Quarter or more properly, Vieux Quebec. That is a posting in itself, but meantime it is indeed winter here. Montreal was simply cold and icy, but as evidenced by these photos my experience in QC has been one big snow storm! I leave behind at least 5-10 inches of snow when I return to Montreal Wednesday.

From sea to shining...well, you get the message

Once again a stop ended on a rainy, gloomy note. Halifax had been pleasant, but cold, until this morning when I woke to a mixture of rain and snow outside my hotel room window. Fortunately, I could sleep in because my departure on The Ocean to Montreal was not until 12:35 p.m. And when I did get up I was able to remain indoors and use the skywalk system that connects the Delta Barrington with its sister hotel, the Delta Halifax, and the Marriott, to find a quick breakfast before catching my taxi to the VIA Rail station. Most of the stores are closed on Sunday, but all the local coffee houses are open for business.

Before arriving in Halifax on Thursday, I had spent two nights in Toronto. The visit lasted less than forty hours, but my intent all along had been to hang out at The Drake Hotel when I was not doing the one thing that was a must, a visit to the newly-reopened, Frank Gehry-designed Art Gallery of Ontario. After a quick cab ride with some fellow who informed me it was his first day driving a taxi, then handed me a map to show him where AGO was located, I spent most of the day wandering the dozens of individual galleries in awe of their collection. Everything from European Masters to Canada's Group of Seven to the world's largest public display of Henry Moore sculptures. Some things were still be finished architecturally, so I was unable to enjoy one of AGO's most famous collections, the 130 ship models donated as part of The Thomson Collection, but one display was visible so I got a taste. What incredibly intricate detail! Go to
www.ago.net to see what I mean.

After the cab ride from hell, I chose to walk back through Toronto's Chinatown. Although the temps were dropping late in the afternoon, it was fun to check out all the little Chinese/Vietnamese/Thai groceries and shops. Dinner at The Drake was first class. The rhubarb sours with Jack Daniels also warmed the soul. In fact, four or five will knock you senseless. Probably why Monday night is a blur! Where I passed out is shown below. Pardon the clothes, but the Drake's "Crash Pad" is rather compact.

The trip to Halifax on the overnight train was routine. The menu in the dining car is the Canadian version of Amtrak's, with little variety and most things pre-made, then heated in the attached service car, which also serves as a lounge. I have the same crew on my return to Montreal, so we are all familiar to each other. My double bedroom has a shower and an upper berth I actually fit in and a little fold-out table perfect for writing entries like this.
I could spend time talking about Halifax, but beyond the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia, this visit to be perfectly honest was somewhat uneventful. I dropped clothes at the dry cleaner, spent an hour or so at a laundromat washing a load or two, and the rest of the time just walked the streets browsing and taking in the historic downtown/waterfront area.

The restaurant scene is terrific -- I must try molasses on my biscuits next time I have the chance -- but beyond that I don't want this to become a gastronomic recitation. I did keep the tradition of snacking on a hot cinnamon roll at the Farmer's Market Saturday morning and bought a few other local things to bring back to the states. Oh, and I did find a spot to wet my fingers with seawater from the Atlantic, but unlike Vancouver it was not part of any stroll on the beach. Frankly, one of the highlights was the wonderful hotel swimming pool and sauna. Adult hours...9 to 11 p.m.

It is very snowy outside my window. Let's all cross our fingers Quebec City, QC is not like this or we may regret that the Courtyard by Marriott in the Old Quarter is not similarly equipped! Brrrr!!

"Rich folks eating in a fancy dining car..."

There is usually one on every train like this. Sort of the Cliff Klaven of the rails. He knows everything, trivial or not, about the rail system, the equipment, the latest government policies, and so on and so forth. Ours was this chubby gentleman from Bloomington, IN, who, with his equally smug and chubby wife, was traveling from Vancouver to Winnipeg. Of course, he had a contrary opinion about everything. "Those are the worst accommodations." "This schedule change will be disastrous." "No one likes this or that..." Blah, blah, blah! And every utterance was followed by this little smirk he'd make with his little thin lips framed by his huge jowls and little moustache. This couple from Vancouver and I agreed he had a face that deserved to be slapped.

As exotic as three days and nights on a long distance train across Canada may sound, it can become monotonous and tiring, especially with the majority of the trip through snowy, barren rock and forest-covered terrain. Think Agatha Christie's "Murder on the Orient Express" without Ingrid Bergman or Sean Connery. We do have our array of "characters," some quite pleasant, others bordering on the odd or borderline nutty. Several couples have been delightful to get to know and share a meal or two with. It's all community dining, so who you are seated with is by chance, unless you join up in advance and request a table together.

I did that on Sunday evening after befriending a couple from Vancouver, Peter and Wendy. He is a successful restaurant executive overseeing dozens of locations in Canada and the United States for Boston Pizza and she is, well, she is his wife. They had purchased this trip from Vancouver to Toronto and back at a charity auction, never having ridden the train before. I like them. They appreciate the odd people on our train as much as I do. Our fourth for dinner would be included in that bunch. Jishnu, this Indian chap who works for Hewlett-Packard (what else!), has an encyclopedic knowledge of railroad signals and systems, but his knowledge-base seems to go way beyond that. He and my friend, Chris Braun, would get along admirably discussing toilet configurations on Chateau sleeping cars and their relative ease of use compared to, say, Manor sleeping cars. The rest of us just like being able to pee in the middle of the night without leaving our compartment.

The food is terrific on the Canadian, served on "real crockery," as this Brit put it. Each day at each meal is a different menu and the choices are remarkable considering the facilities in which they are prepared. I've had apple fritters at breakfast, a grilled shrimp salad at lunch and tonight, a stuffed chicken breast with garlic and feta cheese. The other two days have been as unique and delicious. The only expense to me has been for liquor and wine. And the two bottles of Bailey's I brought on board have offset a bit of that.

We are now only a few hours from Toronto, where I will bid everyone farewell and be off to my "Crash Pad" at The Drake Hotel. A real bed and Wi-Fi will be most welcome!

Oh, Canada!

The buttermilk lemon bars at the Vancouver Art Gallery's cafe were scrumptious! And that's not an easy thing to admit after nearly four days of some of the best cuisine the city had to offer. The museum itself is also a wonderful experience, though the current exhibition entitled "WACK!" was a bit over the top. Imagine two huge floors comprising several dozen smaller galleries filled with the work of many of North America's most radical feminist artists. Lots of vaginas, a few penises and quite a few works that defy description, though I was fascinated by the huge enclosure created from mattresses. Please remove your shoes before entering and NO jumping up and down!

Admittedly, that was how I spent the time after checking out of the Metropolitan Hotel and before my departure to the train station this afternoon. Instead the last few days have been about enjoying the sights of downtown Vancouver, especially the funky West End near English Bay, where indeed I did stroll out on the beach so I could let the surf wash over my hand. Next week, when I do the same in Halifax, my quest to traverse the continent from one end of Canada to the other will be symbolically complete.

Meantime, I made the most of what is a very walkable city. The days were not too frigid, so I spent most of my time on foot exploring the heart of downtown, Robson Street, with its dozens of shops and eateries. It runs east to west and intersects with all the famous Vancouver thoroughfares -- Georgia, Howe, Burrard, Cambie, Denham, to name a few. Naturally, I was also on the hunt for places to eat. I take after my mother in one way. I'm usually thinking about lunch while I am eating breakfast, always staying one step ahead so I can be certain I pick only the best spots to dine.

The hotel made it easy in one regard. The Metropolitan is home to one of Vancouver's best rooms, Diva at the Met. Two breakfasts, a lunch and my first night's dinner were enjoyed there. The Berkshire pork tenderloin was melt-in-your-mouth tender. Seafood was everywhere, but the "simply grilled" red snapper at Joe Forte's made for a hearty lunch. Of course, I skipped lunch on Thursday -- Canada's Thanksgiving is in October -- because the Cowboys game started at 12:30. Afterwards, though, I celebrated with bacon-wrapped scallops, a spinach salad and a big, fat filet at The Keg. I could go on about the desserts, but I'll spare you the temptation. Let's just say I will never forget the gooey meringue shell filled with a passionfruit mousse at Cin Cin. I told the waiter it was "sinful!"

Tonight, I am writing this snug in my bed northeast of Vancouver. A Bailey's on the rocks, my third, is proving the perfect sedative. Outside, it's gradually turning white. We are in for a snowy ride across British Columbia. Next stop, Jasper, AB, and the Canadian Rockies.

The train may be early, but the blog is late!

My God, what a fine way to travel! The Coast Starlight between Los Angeles and Seattle is the closest thing to long-haul first class service Amtrak has to offer. If you are in a sleeping compartment for the overnight trip up the coast and through Oregon and Washington, you are afforded the unique option of the Pacific Parlour Car, a rebuilt Santa Fe hi-level diner/lounge that ran on the old El Capitan service from Chicago to Los Angeles in the 1950s and 60s. Our hostess in the parlor was Michelle, who wore several hats. Her primary goal was to man the bar and serve meals to those of us who chose to dine from her menu, which was unique from the main dining car's bill of fare. She also led us through our two wine tastings and in her free time proved to be a great conversationalist and trip guide. I snapped several shots of the Pacific Parlour Car, but they do not do it justice.

The scenery along this route, of course, is its main drawing card. Beginning north of L-A in Simi Valley, you very quickly transition to California's vast agricultural resources -- fields of all sorts of fruits and vegetables, many of which we take for granted everyday when we add that "side salad" to our lunch or dinner. Once you hit the coastline, though, the journey gives way to those vistas everyone picks a lefthand seat to see. Surfboards and campers and RVs line the highway that parallels the track, but it is the blue of the Pacific that makes your mind begin to chew on the thought that "I could live here, maybe, in one of these RVs for the summer..."

As the train begins it journey inland, the sun is beginning to set and before you realize it you are on your way to Oregon. I like to sleep in the upper berth, so the next morning I can climb out and plop in my roomette seat and figure out just where the train is. South of Klamath Falls was the answer, which meant we were still on time! My window view was not much more than Oregon forests, but the Willamette River valley and the Cascade Mountains lay ahead, so day two would be almost as fun as day one.

This Starlight is not at capacity but there is still a great cross-section of your typical passengers. The veterans, like me, usually know all the ins-and-outs of rail travel. All the minutiae related to the equipment, how it works, where it came from, the schedules, the protocols, etc., even the history of Amtrak or VIA Rail. Then there are families taking the children for a "train ride." I would prefer a separate car for that bunch, something that has no access to the rest of the train. With bars on the windows, if necessary. Happy Meals could be loaded on board at the appropriate times. And then at the other end of the spectrum is the senior set, the same people that shuffle through airports completely bewildered by the real world. Now, they are simply shuffling through a train car, being knocked senseless as the cars sway back and forth at speed. These folks essentially span that age group I am trailing, so I will limit my humor. I'll know I am there, however, when I look in the mirror and the perfectly starched, very blue blue jeans hiked up to my belly button look quite normal!

There was one gentleman I will never forget. By the time the train arrived in Simi Valley he was already into a Sunday morning wine binge in the Parlour Car. As the train rocked along, he would lapse in and out of consciousness. I thought he'd fall out of his seat if the car swayed hard enough. The last I spotted him he was staggering off the train in Santa Barbara, but the best or possibly the worst part -- he had WET HIS PANTS! The huge damp spot made it obvious!

Seattle will be nothing more than a quick night's rest at the Best Western before an early departure for Vancouver, BC. That is when the real fun will begin!

(Note: Once I begin a post, the date is established at that moment. However, until I complete my thoughts and find Internet service, the entry remains in limbo. Hence, the disparity between what you are reading and the actual day or two I wrote it.)