“I like trains. I like their rhythm, and I like the freedom of being suspended between two places, all anxieties of purpose taken care of: for this moment I know where I am going.” 

Anna Funder, Stasiland:  Stories from Behind the Berlin wall.

While Covid 19 has effectively confined most of the world’s population to their home countries there is, after almost fifteen months some light at the end of the tunnel and I do so hope that it’s a train approaching.

It is no secret that I have a deep and abiding love of train travel.

I adore the parallel lines that snake across landscapes carrying trains, their wheels dependent on the power and momentum of the never-tiring locomotive pulling its serpent of carriages up and down hills, in and out of long tunnels then thundering across the flat, carrying its passengers between one city to the next.

Over the years I have stood at open doorways of trains watching the rich tapestry of life slide by in all its majestic splendour; women washing clothes in a canal in India, a couple arguing on a high-rise balcony in Madrid, giraffes and zebra grazing contentedly on the African plains as the Nairobi-Mombasa night train hurtles past, or sedately travelling through the towering Italian Alps, seemingly almost in touching range.

Only trains can offer this sort of experience, they are beautiful things, unpretentious and hard-working, taking people perhaps to places they have never been to before. They are alive with things that should be seen and heard; once aboard, it is almost impossible not to be captivated by their metronomic rhythm.

Today’s burgeoning air travel no longer holds any romance for me, with its insufferable queues in soulless airport terminals surrounded by impatient travellers pushing and shoving as if their aggressive behaviour will somehow get them to their destinations just that much quicker.

Train stations on the other hand are still magical places.

It is as if they have a life of their own, swirling, weaving, ever-moving as if it were a swift-flowing river. People, moving through stations like a muddy stream, each one having a purpose, arriving from somewhere or departing for somewhere else.

Many stations around the world are majestic structures with their vast, domed and vaulted ceiling adorned with frescoes and peppered with statues and gargoyles far above the tide of human traffic far below.

Anyone who has passed through the giant Milan Central in Italy, Victoria Station in Mumbai, Grand Central in New York, JR Central in Tokyo or the ornate St Pancreas in London will understand how the magic of travel has somehow been retained within their cavernous ticketing halls or comfortable waiting rooms.

Catching a train in any large city on a weekday morning at rush hour is to see men in ill-fitting suits waiting forlornly on platforms to take them no doubt to their mediocre jobs and then, at the end of the day they do the entire performance in reverse.

For the past two months, I have spent an extraordinary amount of time on trains or in stations, travelling around Europe and the U.K and, I have to say it has been a wonderful experience. In fact, many times catching the wrong train often took me to the right place!

To travel by rail is to see nature, human beings going about their daily chores, towns, church spires and mighty rivers, in fact, to see life. Trains are wonderous beasts. They take people to places they've never been, faster than they could ever go themselves.

When travelling on a large continent such as Europe it makes perfect sense to plan one’s journey around the continent’s extensive rail system. I mean, who can say no to travelling between say London to Paris in under two hours? Hop on in the centre of London and hop off in the centre of Paris, what bliss. Imagine, no commute to the airport, enduring the painful security process and immigration queues and suffering the inevitable delays and then, when on the other side only to find that your luggage has taken a roundabout trip to Istanbul!

Spain, with its ever-growing tourist numbers, has invested heavily in its rail infrastructure with over 1000 km of new high-speed railway lines opened in the last two years alone. Their RENF AVE super fast trains have been a boon to travellers and commuters alike and have put a sizeable dent in the profits of airlines flying between Barcelona and Madrid.

In 2017 over 127 million people travelled by rail in France alone completing 50 billion Km.s of journeys. Other countries such as Belgium, Italy and Spain can these days boast similar numbers.

The great travel writer Tim Parks perhaps summed up the urge to travel by rail thus;

 “The passenger, sitting a few feet above the ground  protected from the elements, hurtles from one town to the next while he reads a book or chats to friends or simply dozes, entirely freed from any responsibility for speed and steering from any necessary engagement with the world he’s passing through.”

I do so like travelling by rail in the United Kingdom as this mode of transport is so moulded into the psyche of the average British citizen. Once one has escaped the outskirts of the larger metropolitan cities the views of a quintessential English countryside fill one’s window. It’s a little is like having a series of Monet,  Pissaro or Gainsborough paintings on a continuous loop flashing by, each one, a little better than the one before.

Rolling hills, with hayfields being harvested, a shady wood enveloped in a soft, early morning mist, horses standing motionless under a spreading oak. It’s comfort food for the soul.

There is always a slight sense of sadness when the train, which has carried its passengers for many miles, finally pulls into its destination and a delightful journey comes to its end.

There is nothing to compare to the magic of rail travel… It’s just brilliant!