Moonlit Hamlets

I realised today (Friday) that every other thought in my head is either an irritated one, or a worrying one. So, I'm going to focus on something that reminds me of more pleasurable times.

As stated in my profile, I love travelling and wish I could do more of it when possible.

Years ago, we travelled by train from school to home. It took a couple of days to get there by train. Before then, I loved flying. There was nothing better than sitting back in my seat, looking through that small window and watching the ground disappear, being replaced with blue skies and clouds (and stars, if we were lucky); and enjoying the anticipation of picking my own dinner--I know, I am one of the few people (children) on this planet who, at times, liked airline food--the idea that I could choose to eat rubbery chicken never ceases to amaze me. Flying was it for me. I always felt safe in the sky and couldn't understand why anyone could feel fear soaring through the night air. Of course, nowadays, flying has become a little more hazardous since the last time my beautiful butt settled itself in a plane seat, but still...

Second came long car drives. I remember one night, on the way to a restaurant with my father and sisters, I started falling asleep as soon as we left the house (moving vehicles are a brilliant way to rock babies and little kids to sleep) and only woke up 10 minutes later because my subconcious had caught some 80's soul song I loved on the radio: Chaka Khan's "Ain't Nobody"--on the way to the beach, perfect timing!; Tina Turner's "What's Love Got to Do With It", Dennis Edwards "Don't Look Any Further"; I could go on... (Pandora to my rescue: http://www.pandora.com ). I remember, we were on the street with the traffic lights that led off from Pademba Road (can't remember the street's name, but it's the one that you join if you're coming from Mountain Cut). I remained partially awake feeling calm and happy because we were going out, the night was nice and cool (rather than muggy), I could see the stars (if I bothered to open my eyes), and the music was just right. Perfect.

Anyway, with all this experience behind me, I didn't think there was anything else that could possibly beat long distance flights or night-time car rides. Until we had to travel back home, by train, in the middle of winter. On the surface, there was nothing special about it: you got into the train and stayed on it till you got to your destination two days later. In fact, as a t(w)eenager, this seemed like the most boring thing ever on earth (after the novelty had died down). Especially if you had to share your space with your older (bossier) sister--a real teenager. When we first started making these journeys, that's exactly how I felt--I slept mostly and read a lot without really thinking about my surroundings. I got older, and finally became a teenager myself. I was used to the journeys by then and didn't find them such a chore.

Travelling during summer was okay, but once you saw one open field, no matter what country we were going through, they all started to look pretty much the same. Once you saw your first "double-decker" train, well...actually, I tell a lie ;oP, those always fascinated me, regardless of how often we passed them. Anyway, basically summer travel was just fine. The weather was mostly nice and strictly speaking nothing exciting happened.

However, winter train nights were special. They were dark, and cold (outside--if you ignored the ice patches forming in the inside corners of the window) and everywhere you looked there was snow. Sparkling moonlit snow. The older I got, the more I came to look forward to being the only one awake late at night. I was lucky, most of the time I got the top bunk and as long as my sister didn't mind, I could have my night light on as long as I liked. And when I got tired of reading (or was told to switch off the light), I'd switch off the light (;op) and lie at the bottom of the bed looking out of the window. The moonlight on many nights was strong enough to see outside. We'd speed past these isolated hamlets made up of 3 or 4 houses and sometimes they had lights shining through the windows. And sometimes, all you saw was a solitary house surrounded by tall pine trees--I always wondered how anyone could bear to live so far away from their neighbours. As beautiful as these scenes looked, I always felt it was better to be within calling distance of the nearest house...just in case. Mostly, what I liked was the sound of the train moving forwards, the clean snow outside and the feeling that I was the only person alive. I loved it, it was soothing; I was warm, fed and safe. I don't think I'll ever experience anything quite as "magical" as that again.

Music-wise, the main song I associate with these train journeys was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up" (and The Cure's Disintegration album--cassette, of course).

(I used to stay up and read and read and read. A "few" of the books I remember were: Alan Sillitoe's "The Ragman's Daughter", "Ladies of Missalonghi" by Collen McCullough, Rita Mae Brown's "Six of One", "The Man in the Woods" by Rosemary Wells, "Razor's Edge" by W. Somerset Maugham--the only one of his books I truly like; M.E. Kerr's "Is That You Miss. Blue?" (and her: "Night Kites", "If I Love You, Am I Trapped Forver?", "I Stay Near You", "The Son of Someone Famous", --even though her stories were about 70's/80's white American kids I enjoyed her work); and countless Judy Blume books too!--a lot of these books were at one time published by Pan Horizon and I was a glutton for their collection of titles.) (c)