New York-Los Angeles, Tuesday 4 February 1947
We reached Chicago at 10 and saw only snowbound marshalling yards. Our coach was hitched onto another inferior train, The Chief, and left at 2. The maître d’hotel is small, shrivelled, swarthy; perhaps Italian or Greek. I said to him, ‘I am a foreigner.’ He answered surprisingly, ‘We are all foreigners in this country.’
A swarthy, flashy man with a bright wife, whose name later appeared to be Cullman, introduced himself to us on the train. These and Mrs Marshall, who used to live at the Castello at Portofino, made themselves our companions on the journey. After Chicago we left the snow and next day were running through mountain country.
* Over de dagboeken van Evelyn Waugh
* Evelyn Waugh (1903-1966)
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