January 2nd, 2007
At home
Riding on trains is one of my favorite parts of living in Japan, though I’m not sure how much of it is nostalgia and how much is due to the actual fantasy of the system. I don’t think it realls matters though. What sells people is the way they feel. Of course, we ride in trains because need to get places in a timely and cost-effective manner, but the benefits and splendor are immeasurable. I could probably make a life out of writing about Japanese trains, albeit a questionably profitable one.
Every destination has a meaning. If things are left to me for utility, I’ll probably ride my bicycle because that’s free, and time for arrival and in transit is entirely under my control. However, if I’m riding a train, and it’s more than once, then I have a chance to stew a little emotionally and put some sort of significance on the travelling. Who am I going to see? Whoever it is, I probably have a really good reason to take the time for the trip. I’ve waited so long for this journey to take place. And now there’s just the waiting. But as the cliche’ goes, getting there is half the fun.
I have a multitude of advetisements to read, of stations names to ponder, and a score of ever-changing families and lovers, elderly and school children, all of which I can study from the corner of my eye through half-disguised glances. The clack of the wheels the gentle rocking of the cars, the heat radiating through the worn, fabric-covered benches. So many communities, so many dreams, so many lives hurrying and shuffling, dawdling and meandering. Oh quiet trains and gentle deparature music, oh soothingly nasal conductors and streaming scenery– Whatever dreams I end up chasing after, I’ll always have a home on the rails.
