Remember
happiness is a way of travel, not a destination.
(Roy Goodman)
Blablabla... Sometimes I hate all these
stupid quotes! They can sound so real and promising when you read
them but reality is often a totally different story.
November in Cologne,
Germany. I want to visit a friend in Barcelona and am checking out my
travel options. Number 1: taking a two hour flight with a crappy
Irish airline – cheap, but I will probably get annoyed about being
treated like shit and giving money to a company whose business model
I don't agree with. Number 2: jumping on a train and spending much
more cash and especially more time than I would if I was flying.
Option number 3: hitch-hiking. But in winter? Em, no thanks.
To change the habit I
decide on taking the train. Seems like a good idea – in times of
climate change and with the fast-paced life all around us it's nice
to slow down a bit and use a slightly more sustainable form of
transport.
At 4 o'clock on a Monday
afternoon I leave home and head for the station. It's cold and wet,
my back is hurting and I am tired – the perfect conditions to
embark on a 16-hour long trip! Desperately I'm trying to remember
why I didn't buy a plane ticket...
The first part of the
journey takes me with up to 300km/h via Brussels to Paris. Pretty
straight forward. However, what I'm not looking forward to is the
fact that I have to change stations in the French capital. Good
timing too – I'm set to arrive for the evening rush hour which
means a hopelessly overcrowded Metro is waiting for me. And there's
potential for even more stress: All that it takes is that my train
gets in late and I'd miss my connection in the other station. 'Stay
positive', I try to convince myself.
To my surprise the
positive thinking works for once: the train arrives on time at Gare
du nord and the Metro is pleasantly empty. In my wagon there's just
me, two handfuls of other passengers and a colourful Dude singing a
folky version of 'Don't worry be happy'. Nice!
Thirty minutes later I'm
in Gare d'Austerlitz, with over an hour to spare. I walk around the
station which is again much quieter than I've anticipated. Who said
travelling in big cities has to be stressful? After indulging in a
fresh croissant I decide to have a little walk outside. Leaving the
entrance hall I cross the road and find myself right on the banks of
the Seine. It's 9.15pm, full moon has just risen and the river is
flowing by peacefully in front of my eyes. I call my sister and
report happily, “I'm in Paris!”
Soon after I go back into
the station building and make my way towards the platform where I
encounter the next surprise: a piano! Yes, that's right – next to
where my train is waiting there's a piano and a young guy is playing
classical music. On top of the piano a sign reads: “This piano is
for everyone – please use it!” Wow... In most places across
Europe music in public is increasingly getting banned; here it's
being promoted – instead of impatient moods, art is shared!
At 10pm I get on the
train, feeling uplifted by the brief yet beautiful experience in the
city of love. I squeeze through the very narrow corridor and am
wondering how often it happens that some overweight person gets stuck
in the aisle. Maybe they don't want fat people to take trains...?
Anyway, I head for my cabin where I find my travel companions for the
night: a Japanese traveller who doesn't say a single word; a really
nice guy from Ecuador, a musician and a writer who has come to Europe
to find inspiration for his first novel; and Miguel from Argentina
who, as it turns out, is the ex-guitarist of The Gypsy Kings. While Mr
Japan keeps hiding on his bottom bed the three of us spend several
hours making music and exchanging philosophies about life. Train
travelling at its best!
Arriving in Barcelona the
next morning I'm feeling melancholic because my journey has
come to an end already. Instead of an ordeal it has turned into a
wonderfully enriching experience. And you know what? I doubt that a
fast plane trip would have provided similar pleasure. It almost seems
that you have to travel slowly to really get something joyful out of
it, to allow for special things to simply happen.
I guess Mr Goodman was
right after all: Who cares about the destination when all the fun is happening along the way?
