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We went down to dinner, and only the fact of not having tasted food for many hours could have made me touch it in such a room. We were in a long apartment, with one table down the middle, with plates laid for one hundred people. Every seat was occupied, these seats being benches of somewhat uncouth workmanship. The floor had recently been washed, and emitted a damp fetid odour. At one side was a large fireplace, where, in spite of the heat of the day, sundry manipulations were going on, coming under the general name of cookery. At the end of the room was a long leaden trough or sink, where three greasy scullery-boys without shoes, were perpetually engaged in washing plates, which they wiped upon their aprons. The plates, however, were not washed, only superficially rinsed. There were four brigand-looking waiters with prodigious beards and moustachios.

There was no great variety at table. There were eight boiled legs of mutton, nearly raw; six antiquated fowls, whose legs were of the consistence of guitar-strings; baked pork with "onion fixings," the meat swimming in grease; and for vegetables, yams, corn-cobs, and squash. A cup of stewed tea, sweetened with molasses, stood by each plate, and no fermented liquor of any description was consumed by the company. There were no carving-knives, so each person hacked the joints with his own, and some of those present carved them dexterously with bowie-knives taken out of their belts. Neither were there salt-spoons, so everybody dipped his greasy knife into the little pewter pot containing salt. Dinner began, and after satisfying my own hunger with the least objectionable dish, namely "pork with onion fixings," I had leisure to look round me.

Bird, Isabella. The Englishwoman in America, 1856.

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But, seriously, a Washoe wind is by no means a trifling matter. It blows flimsy houses down, lifts shingle roofs occasionally, rolls up tin ones like sheet music, now and then blows a stage-coach over and spills the passengers; and tradition says the reason there are so many bald people there is, that the wind blows the hair off their heads while they are looking skyward after their hats. Carson streets seldom look inactive on summer afternoons, because there are so many citizens skipping around their escaping hats, like chambermaids trying to head off a spider.
Twain, Mark. Roughing It. Toronto: Musson, 1899.

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1. museodelviaggiorom.blogspot.com

The Museo e centro di cultura rom is located in Milan, Italy. It focuses on Romani society and culture.


 

2. www.verkehrshaus.ch

The fascinating history of transport and its vehicles together with their socio-political effects on our culture are the key themes of the Swiss Museum of Transport.


 

3. www.museedubagage.com

From April 2016 onwards, discover the new Luggage Museum: In this fully redesigned setting, take a journey through time with a selection of legendary trunks, all part of a unique collection in Europe.


 

4. site.thenmtt.com 

The National Museum of Travel and Tourism promotes the benefit and joy of travel through the experiences and personal collections. The museum is seeking private collections, volunteers and funding to support its founding and start-up.


 

5. www.reiselivsmuseum.no

The Norwegian Museum of Travel and Tourism is responsible for documentation of tourism in Norway from 1800 to the present day. 


 

6. www.mkvm.hu

The Hungarian Museum of Trade and Tourism (MKVM)is the only dedicated museum of travel and tourism in the world and takes its collections focus from the regions of Hungary.


 

7. www.visittorun.pl/306,l2.html

The Tony Halik Travellers' Museum was established thanks to the explorer and collector passion of the couple of Polish great globetrotters - Elżbieta Dzikowska and Tony Halik.

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