infinite shoebox

Trains. Planes. Windows.

You know why I like to travel by train? Other than the fact that it’s faster than a car or bus, and cheaper/less security and stress than planes…

I find when you travel by train, you get to see the flaws of a city as soon as you get there. You get to see the old buildings, covered in graffiti and falling apart. You see the garbage along the fence or the place where they crush cars, the backs of houses and dirty factories. I feel like I get a much more intimate look at the city than I would otherwise. You may get the overall picture from a plane, like a moving map, but you are completely removed from it. 

You can only start to understand a city when you see the good and the bad, and arriving by train means I get to see the side that’s crumbling before the polished, tourist-y side. 

And I like to watch the fields out my window transform into houses and then buildings and then a whole city. In a car you get a similar transition, but in a train I feel like I’m being led in the back door instead of finding my way to the front. In a plane I see the big picture, and it zooms in until I’m part of it. In a train I see little pieces building up until I’ve formed my own picture of the city. It feels more… personal.

Actually, you know what? Now that I think about it, I love planes too. That moment when you are close enough to see people walking around, but you’re too far away to feel like you’re one of them, or could ever be one of them, because they’re much to small… That moment you are at the same time in the city and above it… It’s no longer a map you can examine and understand, but it’s not yet big enough to contain you. 

It’s an odd “between” kind of place. I feel like I’m in another world, suspended between the air and the ground… and then the wheels hit with a jolt and a rumble to announce that I’ve crossed back into real life again.