Because who doesn't love more ramblings at four in the morning on a train bound for, apparently, nowhere?
I apologize for not getting this out sooner as I have approximately two friends who actually read this blog and they're starting to get a little antsy.
I recently traveled by train from Montreal to Moncton, a trip that took approximately four hours longer than it should have, and this was the result.
It’s morning now, and I’ve just had another sleepless night of travel. I thought it would be easier on a train, but I still faced six hours of desperately changing positions before I found one that didn’t hurt my back. As you can probably guess, my Nyquil was nowhere to be found, most likely spirited away by my mother who, on reading this, will call me to tell me how she threw it out because I shouldn’t be taking it anyway. I paid good money for that acetaminophen/antihistamine blend, Mother, and would have appreciated it last night.
No matter. I can’t be upset. While I haven’t slept, the sun is shining and we’re whipping past snow covered trees which is so pleasantly literary that one can’t bear to be upset. Duke was a good choice for the morning’s music.
When I say whipping past, I of course mean slowly crawling past. Via decided to stop the train several times last night, and now because of the weather we’re inching our way through the snowy hills. I keep seeing Dutch flags everywhere. How I hate the Dutch. They do make good chocolate, though.
If you’re ever slowly winding your way through snowy terrain, I highly recommend the song Caravan. Nothing says travel like a lot of clip clopping and pounding drums.
Something I’ve learned about New Brunswick so far this morning: It’s very boring. Not a very interesting province at all. Unless you go to the ocean. I think I’ll be able to see the ocean in Moncton. I miss the ocean.
Last night I had a delightful seafood dinner and chatted with a nice woman whose name I cannot remember. She was originally from Ontario, but moved to New Brunswick because she loves the pace of it. I smiled and nodded. What she meant is that she’s kind of like an old person. That’s alright, though. We need people like her in the world to relax for the rest of us.
I may go and try to rustle up some food, now.
So, I was feeling a wee bit downtrodden, I suppose because of the lack of sleep and whatnot, but when I went to go get food I discovered the most delightful people.
The first person I met was Jean-Marc, who is a Columbia alum (Class of 2000 and then for his masters, 2002). He didn’t speak English very well, but we had a good long talk. Turns out that he’d lived in Furnald and East Campus, and we talked about Ferris and Lerner and all good Columbia things. He’s working for VIA now because he hated what he was doing in genetics, but apparently they pay $25 an hour and are looking for summer students. Hmmm…
While I was sitting and chatting with Jean Marc, two musicians popped into the lounge and asked if they could play. Though it’s against the rules, no one seemed to mind and so there was some lovely impromptu bluegrass. I left to go pack my things, as we’re now stuck behind a freight train outside of Moncton, and met a nice old lady who, as it turns out, is a bartender at the legion.
Thank God for caffeine, is all I have to say. Perhaps I shall go find those musicians again.
PS. I did find those musicians again. They were cool. You should go see them.