Life in Ink and Footsteps

Because we were traveling by train from San Francisco all the way back to New York. Are there any cool train songs? Just a fleeting thought. Anyway, in my last post, I wrote about our time in the Golden City, so today I’ll start where I left off. At the train station.

We decided to do our vacation a little differently than most au pairs do and booked train tickets across the whole of the USA back to New York. And I’m glad we did. It was worth every penny. Speaking of pennies, since we were both broke and didn’t have much money to throw around, we opted for the cheapest tickets—the ones without private cabins for sleeping. You just have a regular seat among all the other commoners. It would have been fine on a shorter trip, but let me tell you, it takes 52 hours to get to Chicago, our next stop. Two nights with dozens of snoring people and shared bathrooms was… a lot.

The trip started in Emeryville on a gloriously beautiful morning. Both Nordic Beauty S. and I were fully recovered from our previous days’ adventures and ready to board the California Zephyr. You could feel the excitement in the air. We were about to spend two and a half days on a train and see some amazing views! How freaking cool is that?

And I can already tell you—it was worth it. If you’ve never traveled by train, I recommend giving it a try. I’m not saying you have to do the same route, but America is massive, and so much of its beauty gets overlooked when you’re behind the wheel and focused on driving. Even if you’re a passenger princess.

Let’s talk about the train first. I was slightly worried that we wouldn’t be able to see much since we only had the cheap seats, but that fear was unnecessary. The train had a special viewing car with comfortable chairs facing massive windows, so we could enjoy the natural beauty. There was even a guide who worked for the train company, announcing when something interesting was coming up and providing fun facts. Did I retain any of it? Absolutely not. But I liked listening to him talk. There was also a food car, and you could sign up for meals (for a price) or buy snacks from the canteen. Of course, you could also bring your own food. I know we ate on board, but I don’t remember if we had all the meals from the train or brought some of our own. And since I have no memory of what the food was like, it couldn’t have been bad… or good, for that matter.

Not every minute of the ride was interesting, though. It would be a lie to say boredom never hit. But for that, we had our book. Both S. and I bought IT by Stephen King and started reading it during our vacation. Damn, that book is creepy. Remember how I said I don’t like scary things? I have a weak spot for horror books. I can’t handle the movies or shows—the visuals are too much—but imagining it in my mind? That I can handle. Still, I don’t read these books often, compared to other genres. And Pennywise will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.

When we weren’t in the mood to read, we played card games with other passengers. Quite a few people were friendly and outgoing, easily striking up conversations with us foreigner girls. There was a super sweet gay couple who had been traveling by Amtrak for several weeks, spending a day or two in the big cities before jumping back on the train to their next destination. I loved that idea. I want to do this across Europe one day. Then there were two friends, slightly older than me and S., one of them a handsome Black man and the other someone I would describe as a typical redneck. A weird duo, but friendly and entertaining. There was also a slightly odd punk/goth boy who joined us occasionally, who got on my nerves, though I can’t remember why. My diary says he did, so I’ll trust it.

Finally, we reached our next stop: Chicago! We checked into our Airbnb for the night, a big privately owned apartment turned into a shared house. Some of the rooms were rented long-term, while others were for random visits like ours. We went to grab a quick dinner, and I had my first tacos. Yes, at the age of 21, after eight months in New York, I finally had Mexican food. It was love at first bite. It’s such a shame you can’t get decent Mexican food where I live now. My cooking skills, sadly, aren’t good enough to recreate that deliciousness.

After returning to the apartment, we met some of the other inhabitants—Spanish and French boys who were studying in Chicago. I immediately developed a little crush on the French one. Not only was he from the country of love, but he was also Arabic, and boy, do I have a weakness for the dark types. Long story short, we joined them outside the house, had some beers, and smoked weed. I got too high again and ended up spending some private time with this charming man. That, however, left his roommate with nowhere to go, and he tried to get lucky with my Nordic bestie—unsuccessfully. He didn’t seem to understand that, though. After she told him goodnight and went to sleep, he walked into our sleeping area and tried to talk to her. She pretended to be asleep, but he kept talking. Then he sat on our bed. Still talking. Then he lay down next to her. At this point, she started to panic a little inside, but she kept up the charade.

Before anything else could happen, my little rendezvous ended (unsatisfactorily, I might add), and I returned to find this strange situation. He was still talking. I asked what the hell he was doing, and he mumbled something incoherent. So, I kicked him out. After that, S. and I lay in bed in silence for about 30 seconds before bursting into hysterical laughter. It didn’t make sense, and we didn’t care. We just laughed and hugged and recounted the absurdity of the night.

The next morning, we woke up at the crack of dawn, packed our things, and set out to explore Chicago. We only had one day, and we didn’t want to waste any time. We walked around, took pictures, visited historical sites, and played in the Crown Fountain like children. It was so refreshing to take off our shoes, jump into the water, and let go of everything for a moment. We loved Chicago—at least the small slice we saw. It felt like a smaller, cleaner version of New York. We spent the afternoon walking around parks near the Art Institute, enjoying the sun, eating ice cream, and admiring Lake Michigan. We even napped on the grass next to a statue of Abraham Lincoln.

By evening, we headed back to the train station to catch our final train to New York. Back to our families and responsibilities.

But we’ll never forget this little trip—it was our first one together, after all. And there were many more to come: road trips across Romania, little drives around Czechia and Denmark, a week in Iceland. All of them pretty epic, if I do say so myself.

During the train ride, I mostly listened to Nirvana. Don’t ask me why, I just did. And so this music has ever since connected in my brain with this two-day journey across the United States of America.
Nirvana – On a Plain