Waking up to a roommates alarm clock wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It was eight in the morning and I had only one day left in town, might as well get an early start, so I got myself dressed in some somewhat smelly clothes. I’ve gotten to the point in my trip where the majority of my clothes have been wore multiple times, and even the clothes I haven’t wore have dirtied themselves up in my backpack. Before I left I decided that this is when I would officially start having fun: smelly clothes, not enough time to do laundry (I could never sacrifice a couple precious hours of my last day in Seattle), hair that needs cutting, an all around exhausted being. Now I’m on the road… or tracks I guess. I was tired, yes, but Seattle is too amazing to waste a day sitting in the Hostel relaxing. So I wasted my time elsewhere. I walked across the street to the market and had the most delicious cinnamon roll of my life, oh, it was so good. I stepped out of the door of the cafe and into the heart the market, there was a delectable smell in the air: donuts. I tried to buy three (they were only about 2/3 the size of normal donuts), but they were only being sold by the half dozen. So I bought six, sat in a corner, and stuffed my face. Only grandma’s donuts compare to the quality of that pastry. After this I decided I was getting fat, time to burn off some calories I thought, so I took a walk around the block and back into the market. I went to the previously unexplored lower levels and wandered through all the nifty shops, and I hung out in the magic shop juggling for some time.

Admittedly the day was pretty laid back, but for the official record I’m going to blame it on the rain. I sat in Starbucks, went to the post office, did the Underground Tour, hung out in the Hostel, and finally went to an arcade at dark. I don’t have much to tell about the day.

The train to Los Angeles started off as a boring ride. I sat in the lounge car and didn’t notice anyone who I might like to hang out with for my long journey to LA, I did however notice the arcade below my car. After idle conversation with the lady sitting next to me died out I decided to venture down below. I went in and there was a guy playing guitar and singing in between the few old arcade games. I nodded, put my quarters in a machine, and started racing. I asked him where he was from while racing around New York. We got to talking and ended up having a lot in common. James is from north of Seattle, but has lived all over: Florida, Canada, Texas, Washington. With what sounded like a rough life back home he decided to pack up and head to San Francisco, leaving behind the ones he loves, looking for a new life. He’s going to be playing guitar to eat he told me. We sat and talked for a couple hours in the observation car, played some cards, left the cards to play some video games back in the arcade car (the one button arcade game), and then played more cards. Other people started to join in and soon we we’re playing a game of euchre. I had a lot of fun and I met a bunch of people.

There was James, of course. We talked about everything from where we were going, what we were doing, where we’ve been, music, the state of the world. We had so much in common it was quite curious. “Are you very apathetic?” he asked me.

“Yeah, unfortunately” I said.

“It’s a curse, it really is.” he said, shaking his lowered head.

Then there was Martin, a cool guy from Germany who was in the middle of a nine month trip around the globe, Jessica, a very down to earth girl traveling around the west, and a man whose name escapes me. The mystery man was from Detroit, but was now traveling around the country looking for work. He was very kind hearted and very wacky.

Jessica got off in Redding, James in San Francisco, and I went all the way LA. Yet we soon found out that we’d all be in San Francisco on Saturday. A funny coincidence indeed. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.

The rest of the day on the train alone went pretty well. I hung out and read for a long time. I eventually started talking to a man Charlie, who was traveling from Indiana to San Diego all the way by train. He left on Sunday and was still on his way (it was Wednesday). We talked about the train and how everyone is on it for some sort of adventure. He decided it would be a fun way to travel across the US and decided to take the long way to San Diego just for the fun of it (and the view).

Now I’m in Claremont, California, just outside of LA. I’m staying in my friend Zima’s dorm room. He’s borrowing his Aunt’s Mustang convertible and we’re going to be going all around LA in it. I can’t wait.

The train to Seattle took off just on time, and I found it to be a perfect opportunity to get some well needed rest. This, however, was my first experience attempting to sleep aboard the train. I was dressed comfortably, I was awfully tired, and I settled into my seat with the mind state that wonderful, sound sleep would soon take me away as I zoomed off into the west. How sadly mistaken I was. As soon as I discovered a position that I found to be somewhat comfortable and as soon as my eyes started to close I would realize that I wasn’t comfortable at all. Toss, turn, sit, curl, no matter what I did sleep would not happen. Oh, how cruel those seats were. This went on for over an hour until I finally gave up.

When I was in Lake Forrest, Phil put some movies onto my computer for me to watch on the ride, so out came the computer. I made a point to shoot him a text message, thanking him. After the movie ended I searched for the perfect position to sleep in, needless to say, I’m pretty sure it does not exist. But, alas, sleep eventually came, and I’d wager that I got at least five good hours of light, heavily interrupted sleep.

As the sun rose, and I rose with it, we were about half way into North Dakota; a long journey was still ahead.

I made my way into the dining car and had breakfast with two ladies, a mother and her daughter from Seattle. The mother was visiting Minneapolis to reunite with an old friend who she hadn’t see in years, a very sweet story. I told them about the adventure I was embarking upon and gave them my blog address. We talked about Seattle for a while and then parted ways across the train.

The rest of my day consisted of reading, relaxing, not blogging, listening to music, taking pictures, and occasionally conversing with Derek. Derek packed a large duffle bag, skateboard attached, and flew to New York one day, deciding that he wanted to live there. New York, however, is a crazy city, clearly not for everyone, and defiantly not for him. He was taking the Amtrak back to the West coast, and just so happened to be on my last two trains. That night, smoother sleep occurred. For a while I even thought I found the perfect position, but I’m still pretty sure that doesn’t exist.

I woke up around 7 AM to a completely black outside, which I found puzzling. I checked to make sure my phone was set for the correct time zone and I starred out the window, looking for some sign of light. Suddenly, a bright flash hit me: bright, white, snowy mountains! My jaw dropped. I wish I could’ve seen my face, because I’m sure my expression was priceless. I quickly reached for my camera and snapped away. The train arrived that morning and I said goodbye to Derek, he wished me good luck and encouraged me to go see a show in Seattle tonight.

I got off the train. There I was, everything I own in a 2000 mile radius on my back in a brand new city. A familiar rush hit me, the same rush I got when I got off my last two trains. A pure sense of freedom. I could go anywhere, do anything, be whoever I wanted to be, but before I went all crazy I had to get this load off my back. I walked down to the water front and followed the waves to Pike Street, where my Blackberry told me my hostel was, and where there was supposed to be a huge market place. There was no hostel there, and certainly no giant market. I called the Green Tortoise, where I’m staying, and she told me to look for the steps “take them up to First Ave.” she said. Steps to a street? Uh oh. That would explain why the hike here wasn’t uphill like it was supposed to be. Off I went though, up many flights of steps until I was well tired, and then there were some more. I made it to the top of the “Hill Climb” and saw my hostel across the street, where I proceeded to enter. I checked in and the girl behind the counter asked me what brought me to Seattle. “7 cities in 21 days,” I informed her “by the Amtrak train.”

“By yourself?” I nodded. “Wow, that’s pretty ambitious for 18.” she replied

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” She showed me to my bunk. I locked up my stuff, got my shoulder bag on, and embarked upon a new adventure in a new city.

First stop, right across the street was the Pike Place Market. I got some food, wandered around, and took lots of pictures.

They like to throw fish in the market...

Then I went down to the Elliott Bay Book Co. With a name like that, how could I resist?

Next I walked back towards the Hostel, planning on visiting the Space Needle, but I passed the Seattle Art Museum on the way, so I decided to stop in. There was a Michelangelo exhibit on the top floor, obviously my first stop. He is such an amazing artist. When I walked out of that gallery there were blocks to build with at a table, an artist came every night and judged the customers creations. I’ve always been a sucker for blocks, so I stuck around there and built for a good while, yet not staying long enough for the artist to arrive. It was now time to make the trek to the Space Needle. It was a bit of a walk, but nothing too rough. I paid for my outrageously expensive ticket and went to the top. A guy I was talking to on the wait for the elevator asked me to take his picture for him at the top. I told him about my travels and took his picture with my camera also. I said I’d put it up here for him.

A dedication to the East... my heart is 3000 miles in that direction

I made my way back to the Hostel where free dinner was served at six and I talked with a nice lady from Australia who was traveling the country alone. Actually, almost everyone in the hostel was traveling around the country by themselves. I decided I was doing this again.

After dinner I went to a Rufus Wainwright show down the street. He can really play the piano, and then there’s his voice. A wonderful show. I went back to the Hostel, started this entry, and fell fast asleep in a bed I was much looking forwards to using.

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