March 15th, 2011

When train travel has a meaning

This train with purple red green white wagons leaves every hour from the older station of the Hague to Brussels; I have taken this train more often than any other train in my life and no other wagon makes me so melancholy when it passes by, leaving me behind and forcing me to take the local tram to my university. Although it breaks my heart to leave you in those early Monday mornings, and I hate nothing more than stepping into this train, my mind full of inconsolable and glum thoughts, I know I will spend a lot of time in the train and it ultimately brings me to my happiness, my world, my sun.

I know the conductors of the train, there is this elderly woman who is from Belgium and who has checked me for last four times. She gives fines quite often and doesn’t like to smile very much. I think she is unhappy to find passengers without tickets., bur I have always I had my ticket for her. She recognized me today and said To Brussels again, I see!.

I often leave late Friday-evening to Brussels and in the dorms I always meet some of my classmates who always ask where I’m heading off for the weekend. They have seen me so often with my suitcase on Fridays that many already just wish me have a nice time in Brussels and one night I a half-full bottle of wine to bring to you when she found out where I am going. Every single time I say I’m going to Brussels, people know that I’m actually coming to you & I will definitely enjoy my weekend.

The train is always late.Collapse )