The Great Train Robbery

Global Traveller Blog Posted on October 12, 2021 by

The train from Nice to Rome was a pleasure. The nine and a half hours passed quickly with changes at Ventimiglia and Genoa. It was a clear sunny day and the panorama unfolding outside my window was relaxing.

I had placed my suitcase in the designated baggage compartment at the end of the train car, not far from my seat, and checked on it frequently.

And yet. . .when we arrived in Rome and I went to fetch it, the compartment was empty! My stomach did a flip-flop. Yes, I had all documents, money and electronics with me but only the clothes on my back. Suddenly I was no longer tired or hungry but angry and apprehensive. I immediately notified the nearest conductor who called over the shift supervisor. She took detailed information, including passport number, address and email, and then directed me to the polizia in the train station.

The cop who opened the door seemed furious that I was there and informed me that the “system was blocked” and no reports could be taken. He couldn’t wait to get rid of me and could not have been more unpleasant. He acted as though I was interrupting an important activity which I probably was and I’m almost certain that the activity had nothing to do with legitimate police work. I resolved to file a report the following day.

Naturally at 9pm all stores were closed so finding a toothbrush was impossible. I headed directly to my hotel the Casa S. Giuseppe di Cluny,a former convent.

Cloister of the convent

 

The serene atmosphere calmed my mind and I began to think. How could I get compensated?

Travel insurance with my credit card? Not covered. Travel insurance with my apartment insurance? Nope. How about Trenitalia? Bingo.

Turns out that the EU common carrier law mandates compensation up to €300 for lost or stolen luggage. In other words, Trenitalia can’t direct you to put your baggage in an authorized spot and then if it’s stolen say “Too bad”! I slept in my clothes and resolved to extract the money from them somehow.

Before falling asleep I remembered how I was just throwing clothes into my suitcase that morning, unsure of what to take and what to leave. I haven’t traveled in a while and forgot how to pack. It was as though the Universe said “Now, you’ll learn to pack light. And, by the way, you need new stuff”.

New Orleans

Global Traveller Blog Posted on November 25, 2019 by

October 22-25

The last portion of the Sunset Limited from San Antonio to New Orleans was rockier than the first portion from Los Angeles to San Antonio. Or maybe we had just had enough of “training”. The train that was supposed to leave San Antonio at 6.30am didn’t leave until around 8. Then there were more delays which meant that we didn’t pull into New Orleans until around 2am. We were beat.
Also, the scenery was far less interesting than prior legs. It was flat and swampy. Also, this is the South. A white guy from another car came up behind us and started hassling the black guy sitting there. He used the N-word: “Yeah, I’m a racist. I was brought up that way”. We were not. I lost my temper and started shouting at him, not using the best language either. Kathie and Diane ran to get the conductors. Amtrak personnel  took it most seriously, questioning the black guy and us. They radioed for advice. I thought the racist guy was going to get thrown off the train.  Half-hour later the conductors returned, saying the white guy spun out some story about not really meaning it. . .he was trying to tell a story. . .he’s so sorry, etc. Sure. The black guy was off to visit his brother who lives in Beaumont, Texas. Good luck there.

After resting up in the Maison St Charles  we headed out to visit New Orleans. First up–the French Quarter, natch.

 

And then a scrumptious lunch at Muriel’s:

I think it was catfish. Awesome.

Supposedly they have a resident ghost for whom they leave out wine. Apparently New Orleans is full of ghosts–there are ghost tours, paraphernalia etc. Like every building in the French Quarter, the interior was a step back to the city’s 19th-century heyday.

The French commandeer everything. It should really be called the “Spanish Quarter”, since it was the Spanish who rebuilt it after they took over in 1763.

 

Posters for John Bel Edwards were everywhere. Yes he’s a Democrat and yes he won the governorship.

New Orleans is not a wealthy city. The French Quarter teeters precariously on the edge of seediness and occasionally topples over.

Bourbon Street was obviously a place to avoid at night. Cop cars start lining up around dusk ready for the nightly fights. Which is why some of us turn to day-drinking:

After lunch we boarded the obligatory steam boat cruise for a chug down the Mississippi. It was windy and surprisingly chilly but still a great way to get a sense of the city’s layout.

With this guy in charge of the Engine Room, we were lucky we didn’t sink!

 

Yep, that stone wall is all that protects New Orleans from a rising river. And that’s the high part! We also passed by the famous Ninth Ward that was devastated by Hurricane Katrina and it was visibly lower.

After another stroll through the darkening streets we headed back to our hotel for a terrific meal at the adjacent restaurant. We wanted oyster soup but the waiter informed us that there was currently a crisis affecting Gulf oysters. A NYTimes article

The following day was cloudy and chilly. We started out with truly outstanding beignets at the famous Cafe du Monde. Then we wandered the Warehouse neighborhood which I preferred in some ways to the French Quarter. Less touristy. We stopped for tea at Napoleon House which got its name because you-know-who stayed there.

Then we ducked into the St Louis Cathedral, the oldest cathedral in North America.

Diane and I headed out to the Garden District under darkening skies. The lavish mansions and ancient oak trees were a striking contrast to the town center. We would have loved to stroll around but it was starting to rain. We ducked into the convivial Joey K’s for artisanal beer and Po Boys.

The rain intensified throughout the night which meant leaving the city and ending this amazing trip in a downpour. And so it goes.

San Antonio

Global Traveller Blog Posted on November 24, 2019 by

October 20-22

After staggering off the train at 5am and taking a quick Uber to our hotel, La Quinta by Wyndham San Antonio, we were delighted to check into our room right away without even having to pay for another night. Texan hospitality!

We were all getting a little tired at that point so we headed to bed for a nap before sightseeing.

First up was the Alamo which was smaller than I expected.

And then there was the musket demonstration:

Your Second Amendment at work. There were statues of Davy Crockett and other luminaries that, frankly, didn’t mean much to me but of course is part of the whole Texas mystique. I didn’t see a single ten-gallon hat but the oversize waffles served up at breakfast were Texas-shaped. Thankfully I did not see a single “openly carried” weapon but I did see plenty of signs saying, in effect, “don’t bring your damn gun in here”.

 

 

The signs seemed to be everywhere–churches, bars, monuments, restaurants.

After the Alamo we took a boat tour of the city’s highlight, the River Walk.

 

 

Although uber-touristy, the languid river meandering in the shade of oak trees while families chowed down Tex-Mex in riverside restaurants was Texas at its best.

After lunch along the river I followed it to San Antonio’s toney Prince William district. Amid the egrets and river snakes (well, one) were plaques explaining the importance of the district in the development of San Antonio, America’s second oldest city.

Most of the mansions were from the second half of the 19th century.

 

Good to know that “hate has no home here” in English, Spanish, Arabic and. . .? San Antonio welcomes everyone, no matter how obscure their language.

Looks like ghosts have a home here.

San Antonio gets an A for water management and urban planning. I can’t remember which Castro twin used to run the place but he’s got my vote.

The following day we headed out to the Mission District for a look at the 18th-century church-monasteries founded by Spanish Franciscans. First was Concepcion:

I particularly liked how the Spanish missionaries incorporated the styles and materials of local Indian and Mestizo artisans.

 

Next up was the even more impressive San José Mission.

And then it was back to San Antonio for a delightful birthday lunch at Zinc restaurant.

 

Replete with a prickly pear margarita:

The afternoon was wearing on and I had only a short time to visit the Western Art Museum which was too bad as it displayed a stellar collection of drawings and paintings evoking the history of the West.

After wandering a bit in the well-restored town center

I decided to head out to the new “arts district” in San Antonio’s South Side but unfortunately the few galleries and arts centers were closed by the time I got there.

 

 

 

Then it was back to the hotel to relax by the pool and pack up for an early departure to New Orleans.

Los Angeles to San Antonio

Global Traveller Blog Posted on November 24, 2019 by

October 18-19

We boarded Amtrak late–around 10pm– and settled in to sleep soon after;

By morning we were rolling through southern Arizona. We had a long stop in Tucson where the train station served up an incredible breakfast burrito.

It was a beautiful day to appreciate the desert scenery.

 

The BIG event was the appearance of “Big Boy”, the world’s largest steam engine locomotive. Built by Union Pacific, the giant train was chugging across the country to celebrate 150 years of transcontinental rail travel.

 

Throughout the state, crowds lined the railroad track waving to us while they awaited the main event.

 

I got the impression life was kind of boring down there.

One person who was not bored was Jefford from Alabama, strumming on his mandolin in the observation car.

 

He plays violin and piano as well as this mandolin which he likes because everyone is running around playing guitars and banjos. The mandolin also fits better into his lifestyle which involves hopping freight cars and taking them cross-country. What? I thought “riding the rails” ended with the Great Depression. I was wrong.

Apparently there’s a whole community–a “rough crowd”, according to Jefford–who travel around the country this way. He showed me how they stow themselves between freight cars and how they avoid getting asphyxiated when the trains enter long tunnels. Anyway, it’s better than taking Greyhounds. “Those people are crazy!” he said.

Jefford was neither “rough” nor crazy. He was smart enough to describe Alabama in three words: “Bibles, Baptists and Republicans”. When I asked whether it was mainly homeless people who rode the rails he got a little miffed. “I’m not homeless! Look at these shoes! My instrument cost $1000! Not homeless. I like riding the rails. It’s my addiction”. In fact he was on his way back to Alabama to help run his family’s pecan farm after stints working as a shepherd in the northwest and picking up odd jobs as a handyman.

It was a long day but the desert along the Mexican border had a stark beauty that kept me mesmerized.

I particularly liked the red rock arrangements as we passed through southern Texas near El Paso (hard to capture on a moving train).

 

We turned in early as the train was due to pull into San Antonio at 5am. Our heartfelt prayers that, just this time, Amtrak would be late went unanswered.

Venice Beach

Global Traveller Blog Posted on November 23, 2019 by

October 15-18

We arrived at Union Station, Los Angeles late on the 15th after substantial Amtrak delays. It’s a gorgeous Art Deco train station recently renovated and lit up.

Checked into the Samesun Venice Beach Hostel which is only steps from the beach. It was a super-friendly place with a great included breakfast. We took an entire dorm room for ourselves.

 

And made sure to wash our breakfast dishes after! We were awesome.

I loved the hippie vibe of Venice beach and the water was much warmer than I expected. Unfortunately Muscle Beach was closed for renovations though.

 

 

The “boardwalk” had lots of souvenir shops especially around Muscle Beach but the scene calmed down as we walked further north. Although I was informed that Venice Beach was gentrifying and many long-time residents were getting pushed out, I felt it could have been much worse. It retained the aura of a slightly ramshackle beach town.

 

Even if you couldn’t eat the local fish.

After a wonderful lunch thanks to Fred and Beth, we dipped our feet in the water!

And in the late afternoon, I took a walk around Venice’s little canal network. Although the “boardwalk” had a seedy side, here everything was clean and neat. If the houses had security systems they weren’t visible, leaving the neighborhood with a an old-timey bohemian flavor.

The following day began with a trip to the beach to watch the action, especially the skateboarders.

And then on to Santa Monica! The beach was spectacular. The pier reminded me of Atlantic City or Asbury Park but in a good way.

So few people were in bathing suits! Wimps. It was at least 72°F. In Nice people start stripping down at 60°F.

After a lunch of avocado toast (what else?) we actually waited for a bus up to Malibu. You would think that buses up the coast would be frequent but you would be wrong. We alighted at the spectacular nature reserve: Malibu Lagoon State Beach.

Judging from the numerous warning signs, you have to be careful there!

 

 

And behave yourself!

It was a beautiful place.

 

And then back to Venice for The Sunset Event.

 

The following day started with another walk on the beach. (Sigh)

I liked the poems engraved at the entrances to the public beach restrooms.

After packing up, we dropped our bags off at Union Station and then headed to the old Hollywood classic, Chateau Marmont, for lunch.

So classy yet so relaxed and friendly. The prices were surprisingly reasonable except for the cocktails which were exorbitant. The crowd reminded me of the sort of sleek, intense young business people that populate Cannes during the festival.

After, we strolled a bit down Sunset Boulevard (boring) before catching an Uber to our entertainment highlight: a live taping of Bill Maher’s show! It chewed up quite a bit of time as you have to arrive at least two hours before the taping but it was well worth it. The people kindly seated us so we could make a quick exit after the show. We had a train to catch! The show was great of course and he even had on Neil DeGrasse Tyson as a guest.