Thursday, June 9, 2011
Rail and Wire
I took a train across Russia once for about a week. The eerie similarities between the continents means that every time some writer mentions big American train lines, I think of a long train ride across Asia - headed to the unknown East instead of the West. Everything inside the train stays on Moscow time, even when things flashing past the windows are in a world five hours earlier by the clock. You can walk into the dining car and get supper at 1pm. By the time you hit the southern edge of lake Baikal, there are no meals served later than that.
It's an weird feeling to being hurled through a landscape in a box that's far out of your control. It's not steerable like a car, and it's not far far away like an airplane. A train travels fast enough to bend time, but slow enough to remain in limbo.