[Written on September 17th, on trains between Delft and Göttingen]
Traveling by train in Europe: All the changes, I have seen many stations, waited on many benches. In some ways, it is stressful. It takes a long time, it is a hassle to carry my bags around, trying to figure out where to go next when all information is in languages I don’t master, changing plans due to delays. Filling in the Interrail itinerary.
But in another way, it is a much more humane way of traveling. I see the landscape I am traveling through. The hills and fields, forests, mountains. As a geographer, I feel like I am being more respectful of the landscape. And with that, I don’t mean due to the smaller environmental impact (which, obviously, is another important aspect: a globetrotting environmental researcher being a little less of a hypocrite).
What I mean is that at least on a train, I am also forced to see parts of a country that I did not intend to see. It feels a little bit more democratic, however silly that sounds. Also seeing the parts that aren’t conventionally beautiful. Not only the azure blue coast and breath-taking alpine mountain valleys of southern France, but also the flat agricultural landscapes of central Germany, the canals between grazing cows in the Netherlands, dusty industrial towns nested like supporting cogs around the shining metropolitan centers.
I feel like that recognition of the physical movement makes traveling easier to understand, and allows a sense of connectedness, an experienced line from downtown Stockholm to Nice and then all the way back again. It gives an awareness of how the landscapes are connected. Not existing in a vacuum, like when a plane drops you off in a faraway exotic place.
Places are not exotic. They are connected through earth, landscapes and sea. Train-traveling is a way to sense that.
Katja Malmborg 