This is me at age seven riding on a train between Salisbury (Harare), Southern Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) and Cape Town (still Cape Town) South Africa. I was seven and we were on our way to catch a ship back to England, then on to the United States. It was this train trip that still inspires in me a nostalgia for trains, and for 'the journey'. If you've seen any older British films, like The Lady Vanishes or Strangers on a Train, or even A Hard Day's Night, then that was the type of train I rode on. The ones with the side corridors where even thin people had to suck in to pass each other, and the separate compartments where one sat, reading or gazing out of the window, (or looking out for spies) until it was time to stroll down to the dining car, where crisp linen table cloths set the mood and courteous waiters brought your food. Come to think of it, it was like riding on the Hogwarts Express without random outbreaks of magic.
I also liked sailing on ships in the hey day of ocean liners, after the Titanic but before jumbo cruise ships starting having outbreaks of mysterious viruses and crashing onto reefs. There was something liberating about being adrift in the world, not attached to a country, but just boundless and free on a floating hotel. The ocean was both calming and terrifying at the same time, so overwhelming in its' vastness.
1957 was the last year I was on a ship, or a train, so maybe I have turned them into nostalgia. Since then it has been cars and planes, and lately not so much planes. I enjoy the road trip but not the plane trip. I think it is the confinement, the droning noise, the sense, in a different way than on board ship, of not being anywhere. In a train, on a ship, there is still freedom of movement within the limits of your environment. In a car you can pull over and walk around, stretch, eat, stop and sight see. On a plane you are all basically in a tube in the air, and there is no room to even casually stroll about or stand up straight.
My son is in Scotland and England right now, being a happy wanderer. He has been traveling alone for a week seeing Edinburgh, visiting Hadrian's Wall, soaking up the damp air and the history, sleeping in a bunk bed in a hostel, checking out the local pubs, and eating at McDonald's (hey, that's Scottish, right?). Today he takes the train to London to join up with friends and go farther afield, seeing more of England, then Amsterdam and Berlin. In my mind I am traveling with him, envying his wanderlust. My mother told me that she would be terrified to be alone in a strange city, in a strange country, but I have an almost romantic yearning to be just like that, at least for a short time, just jumping on a train, wandering down a quaint street, into a charming shop, sitting in a cafe reading a book over coffee, or sketching the sights.
Ian sent a number of photos from Edinburgh and I liked this one of a Close, or alleyway, with stairs leading upward and beyond to somewhere else. It invites you to walk with him to see where it goes.
Maybe here.
When Glenn and I were in New Orleans once, he was attending a conference and I had the luxury of just wandering about while he was in sessions. I found a lovely little photography gallery on Royal Street, sat in a cafe sipping tea and doodling, and then I caught a trolley and rode it out along St. Charles Street until I randomly got off and saw a park to stroll through. It was a damp, rainy day and I was just footloose in the city with no agenda.
Sometimes we just need to lose ourselves in the moment. I don't wander as much these days, although I love a good road trip, and I intend to ride the rails again as part of my bucket list. It's good to have those adventures when you are young, though, and I am happy Ian is doing just that. Bon Voyage!
