Train Time Machine

"Let us lay in the sun and count every beautiful thing we can see."- Neutral Milk Hotel

Before I was born my Mom and Dad lived together in Germany for about two years. Only a little older than I am now, they had the opportunity to travel around Europe and experience much of the culture with very few responsibilities. They learned to speak German, made some life long friends, and became seasoned travelers.

My Mom at the Tour D' Eiffel. Paris, France  

On occasion, they tell stories that begin with "When your Mom and I were living in Germany..." or "When Dad and I lived in Munich...". So for me, growing up my impressions of Europe were formed through my parents narrative. The images in my head were mere glimpses of those from the thick photo albums that hid in our basement among all the other books.  Under the thin plastic protective coverings, the yellowed pages of the albums held photo's with an orange date in the corner. Taken sometime before 1995 the albums were made up of pictures of my parents before they were parents. People I could only ever imagine

Casually, they point out places they have visited that they see in the scenes of the movies we watch. They randomly slip into conversation museums and villages that they refer to as "their favorite in the whole world" and I know that they are not using the term lightly. They are fortunate, and modest about their travels, and I always knew that someday I needed to see Europe the way that they did. Young, with few responsibilities, an open mind, and my whole life ahead of me.

Now that I am here and planning my adventures I email them constantly, asking for ideas of what to do and see. My Dad sends me back paragraphs and paragraphs of things to see with annotations on what he's seen, what he liked, and what I must not miss. My Mom sends me carefully planned charts of travel itineraries that she has created with links and detailed suggestions.

My Dad in Hallstaat, Austria

On day four of our spring break excursion my new friend Becca and I woke up early to catch a train from Barcelona to Carcasonne. We had to take two trains to get there and the second one was a much less commercialized line. After running to make sure we did not miss it, we wound up unintentionally sitting next to the older couple who we were across from on the first train. The wife, dressed all in rosy pink, wearing light blue eyeliner, and was sweet as could be.

On the first train she was very concerned that Becca was not aware her bag was on the ground. On the second train she was delighted to see us again, but disappointed this train was not as nice as the first. She tried to engage us in conversation, and we tried to reciprocate. She asked us where we were going. Or where we were from. I'm not really sure actually. The whole communication took place in a broken confusion of  an English, Catalonian, French, and Spanish mix of words. She was sad to see us depart the train when we did, or at least I think she was.

Visiting the Medieval city of Carcassonne, France 

Sitting on the train it hit me that we were riding through the south of France, watching the sun hit the rolling hills, and the farm fields fly past us. It was magical when we saw an assortment of horses and two white ones in particular began running, the wind flying through their hair. Talking about the friends we had met the night before who came from all around the globe, I realized we were living what I had dreamed of.

This is one of few chances we will have in our life to live without any serious responsibilities. To be living purely for the joy of learning and exploring in Europe the way I had always imagined it to be. Away from the major tourist ports we were truly appreciating the breath-taking land from the back country trains. I finally began to love France for what it really is.

Leaving Carcassonne we had to transfer trains in order to reach our off the grid, hotel pit stop in Soillac on our way to Sarlat. Upon finding seats for the two of us I felt like I had stepped into where my parents photo albums had left off in 1992. The train had definitely been running on this track since the '80's. There were curtains hanging from the windows! Not sleek shades that you could pull up and down. Curtains. Curtains that swayed when the train tracks turned.

Dan and I on the train. 

One stop before Souillac Dan started talking to us. Dan was a slightly less socially awkward version of my old pal from the Paris metro. He told us that he enjoyed giving compliments, but referred to compliments as giving a flower (donner un fleur). He arrive in France from the U.S. around the same time my parents arrived in Germany. Only he never left.

Walking out of the train station our hotel was located at the other end of the parking lot. The moment we walked through the doors was a continuation of decorations from the end of the twentieth century. Upon entering our room we began laughing and questioning if the train was a time machine taking us back to the '90's. The bedspread, the potpourri, the wallpaper in the closet, and the telephone with a spiral cord plugged into the wall. However, there were fresh daffodils on the table, those were definitely placed there that morning.

Listening to the forgotten sound of the dial tone
while waiting for the shower to warm up.
Notice the candle in the hotel?

My adventures through Europe so far are everything I expected plus everything I could never have expected. I am able to see the places I have only heard about in my parents stories, and see sites I will some day be able to tell my kids about. The more I travel the longer my list becomes of places I want to visit and the things I want to do. Through living on my own in this country I am getting to know my parents before they were parents. I am experiencing one of the major parts of their lives that I was never a part of.  I am finding joy in seeing things so far from home and knowing they are the favorite places of the two people I love the most. And best of all, I get to revisit the '90's, a great decade for wall paper and hotel blankets!