Through a train window
I seldom travel by train these days, or any sort of public transport for that matter – I’m lucky enough to have a job that provides a company car. But back in the day, when my hair was longer and my years fewer, I used to take the train quite often and sometimes I would experience a strange moment of introspection when sitting next to a window on a long rail journey.
The scenario is broadly the same, it’s that time of an evening when dusk still holds the night at bay yet lights start appearing in the scenery that glides past the window. The train is slowly threading its way through the suburbs of some city, one which perhaps I had never visited before. The carriage is quiet, with fellow passengers cat-napping or engrossed in newspapers and just the rhythm of wheel-on-track is marking the passing of time. As sometimes happens on the approach to a busy station the train grinds to a halt as it waits for a signal change, and of course you then have a few moments to really look at the world outside.
Railways in the UK are often built on raised embankments which can afford you a view down onto the streets and houses of a city’s outskirts, often looking down onto a tangle of back yards and, at that time of the evening, illuminated kitchen windows.
My eye would be irresistibly drawn to these yellow rectangles of light and then I’d notice a little tableau unfold through one of those portals: Sometimes a woman standing at the kitchen sink, or laughing at some other unseen person in the room. Sometimes children seated at a table waiting to be fed. Perhaps it might be a man, coffee mug in hand, peering out into the gathering twilight. I’d reflect that I’d just witnessed the briefest moments of a stranger’s life; their homes unintentionally gate-crashed, a private portrait on public view, a candid snapshot.
Then they would be gone, slipping away behind me as the train lurched back to life, and I would wonder about this family I had so briefly encountered, with all their years of living, with all their fears and dreams and joys, all those thousands of experiences locked up behind a face so momentarily seen. I’d been privy to just a fraction of it all; the merest sliver of their entire lives, and I’d never see them again. It always made me feel that I had shared something with them, though they would never know me, yet at the same time I would feel isolated in my metal tube, the coldness of a glass pane placing a barrier between myself and the lives of those people who had unknowingly provided me with a moment of their existence. I’d look out across the rooftops of the houses, row upon row of them marching away in serried ranks until they faded into the evening gloom, sprawling away towards a far horizon, and I’d muse on the fact that under each roof countless other people were living their lives, though unseen by train passengers, with each life a history in miniature and with each life-story so vitally important to its owner.
It would leave me with a sense of both belonging to the world at large, a tiny drop in the vast ocean of the human race, and conversely I would feel detached and remote, even lonely. I wonder how many times I myself have been spied briefly by passing strangers as I walked the dog, or stood at a window with mobile phone in hand, and I wonder if it’s just me that has this strange feeling or do I, in turn, cause them to ponder on how a human life can be regarded as being small and simple in one way and yet so complex and meaningful in another, depending on which side of a train window you experience it.
There may well be a scientific word for this peculiar mood (existentialism?), or maybe it really is just me who experiences such wistful feelings. Somehow it’s never the same when driving my car; perhaps I don’t have time for such deep thoughts when I’m fighting cross-town traffic, no chance to register a second or two from the lives of others: Perhaps I’m long overdue a train journey again.
This is a wonderful writing, darkfurmowl… It is easy for me to “see” through you eyes the mysterys you notice that lie beyond the train window. I have also have that experience where I looking at glimpse of other people life and they not realizing it. They are they true self and we are see them in that way. I have not ride the train in a long time now – is mostly Steven who ride the train for working – but now I also wish to take a dusk time ride just to once again experience all those wonderful word that you write for us. My writing is very seem like child like compare to you…. I hope you will write more often. Is lovely to form a opinion of the writer of the blog – and my opinion of the darkfurmowl is that of a well educate man who is able to say what he is thinking in a way that is understanding for all who reads it. Some time is the most common thing that we will encounter during the days that join us together as friendship because we all can relate to similar feeling and ‘sights’. I thank you for this nice blog – is very enjoyable to me. 🙂 From Gia xo
Owl, I understood and recognised everything you experienced and described.Whenever I’ve travelled by train, I’ve glimpsed the lives of other people,seen a tiny scene from their existence, wondered about these unknown folk,and felt a little guilty that they were unaware of my eyes.I also enjoy watching people when I’m having a coffee in a pavement cafe,I wonder who they are, where they live,where they’re going.I make up stories about them and their lives…..again,they have no idea about my imaginings…
Then there’s the return by train to Durham……looking down onto the tiny,ancient streets,the ancient castle and cathedral overlooking it all.Then I know
I’m home.
Thank you Gia-lu. It’s nice to share something like this and discover that other people have similar feelings.
Your picture of me isn’t so far from the truth – I am educated to a reasonable level and yes, I’ve always enjoyed writing.
Your own writing is not at all like child-like. It is thoughtful and humorous and your personality is in every word. I love your style – be proud of it and blog regularly 🙂
Thank you Owl…. (I was confuse about you name – I apoligze.) I thought is dark fur mowl.. now I understand is dark farm owl…. (take me a while some time..haha) Thank you for you kind words – I will write spuratical – I dunno how to spell it but there is red squigle line underneath so is incorrect – (is mean occasional) – is not professional writing like the others here – just words that describing what is like to be me in the U.S. 🙂 Please also you must continue to write often! – and all the other terrifico writers too! Thank you – bye bye from Gia xo
I’m not sure that we have many professional writers here Gia. We just write what we feel.
Scrivere con il tuo cuore!
Maize – So it would seem we all have these feelings from time to time. I’m no psychiatrist but it does sound like existentialism – the nature of the human condition. We are naturally communal as a species and perhaps that’s why we find people-watching so addictive.
You are right of course – whether its an ancient castle or the Rotunda, homecoming is the sense of belonging that replaces the feelings of isolation and there really is no place like it.
Wonderful Owl,it reminds me of my commuting on the trains,bear with me and my story unfolds.When i took early retirement and got sick of it the firm gave me a casual job which luckily for me allowed train travel to the CBD and closer in suburbs.I`d catch a 6 am train into the city and fortunately being at the end of the line always enjoyed my pick of carriage and seat.There were 17 stations between my start and end and twice a week I would see the same people getting on or off.I got to know their peculiarities,settle into a seat,put away the bag,bring out the phone,bring out the tablet,book or intricatley fold the daily to read without leaning over a fellow passenger.Some would put on their makeup,brush their hair or put finishing touches on their finger nails,some would even have their breakfast.Most were oblivious to my scrutiny of them as I pondered their life,where do they come from,where are they going,what do they do,are they happy,do they love somebody,what problems may they have.Some look pensive as if they are not looking forward to the day,some look relaxed as they play their music from the phone,some chuckle from their phone or tablet social apps,some just appear to fall asleep to miraculously awaken just prior to their stop.My train carriage of 100 people,repeated 7 times on this journey,100 lives,100 characters,100 dislikes and likes,100 to fulfill a day,100 dreams to ponder,100 tomorrows to look forward to or not,100 decisions for dinner at the days end.From where I sit I can only see half a carriage and 50 people but its a microcosm of the whole train,yet not all 50 look despondant,there are some as bright as a spark at night but they are a sad minority,they are happy.I peer out of the window and see the traffic and feel blessed that I no longer have to drive through that for work,a beehive of motion on the roads and a beehive of thoughts on the train.I sometimes feel like screaming at the fellow passengers,look up from your phones or tablets,stop texting,keep the newspaper for later,put away your makeup you look fine,open your eyes,you are on a journey for a new day,look at the sky,the sunrise,the clouds,the graffiti,the bridges,the river,the skyline.Look at the stopped train opposite and see the sullen passengers reflecting yourself,become aware, view and appreciate where you are coming from and going to,look 3 dimensionally not 2 dimensionally as you are now.All without action or response,yet I know that my chaffeur driven train to work will allow me to embrace the day,I know I have seen many new things on my train today to more than makeup for the lethargy in my carriage.I`ve never felt as part of a herd but on a train it takes an effort to not become so,a train carriage is a small slice of society,its kindness,gentleness,arrogance,stupidity,greed,friendliness.Observing people for 1 hour makes these traits oh so apparent as most express that on their phones or tablets,turning a page,stowing the bag,putting away the makeup or that distant look in eyes of things uncertain, of doubt.Yet some eyes dance of happiness and mirth of what was or what may be,there is a sparkle to these few passengers in my carriage,it all makes the shifting landscape all the more enjoyable.
Sylv – I couldn’t have put it better. It’s just part of our nature i suppose to be curious about strangers – to ponder on what is going on behind the eyes, and what the untold stories are behind each expression. Remember when we were all kids and our parents would scold us for staring at strangers? I think children are just honestly expressing the curiosity that we still feel in later life.
I just do it covertly now 🙂
Sudden thought: I suppose that without this natural curiosity Senior Chatters wouldn’t exist.
In times when I was active in business I prefered the train travel to Russia in special Owl. At thiese times it was an adventure, a real adventure.
Even in the early 90ths when I had to travel to the new part of Germany I prefered the train cos the highways were poorly kept during the time of communism.
I loved the smell of the coal engines, we could also open the window in the compartment which could take up to 6 passengers.
But as soon as I got my place I fell asleep cos the rhythm the train was travelling made me feel in a cradle. And so I prefered to take night trains if I could.
Traveeling during the day and looking out of the window was like looking into my life. The scenery the train passed by changed from second to second and sometimes I got reminded of situations I was in in my life.
Today there is a lot of comfort on the trains mostly one waggon compartment with sealed windows and any place is shared with dozend of other people. Do I like this? No!!!
Prople of today are very rude they use their handies no matter who is next to them. I’m absolutely not intereseted in any point of their private life and their behaviour is disturbing me, kills my concentration on my books or newspaper I wood like to read.
So one idea appeared to my mind one day; the idea of booking a ticket for travelling o the Orient express but I don’t know where to? But I’ll find out one day.
I suppose the natural instinct to be in the company of others is always going to clash with the people who love today’s gadgets. Iplayers, Handies (Mobile Phones?), Tablets. Strangely they create an isolation within a crowded space. What happened before these things came along to wrap each person in a bubble of self-absorption?
Did people talk more, or did they just simply all stare out of the window?
The Orient Express! That one is on my bucket list for sure! But I’d want to travel the whole length from London to …. well it used to be Istanbul but I don’t know if it goes that far any more. It is horribly expensive though, and I’d have to wear a dinner jacket for evening meals. I’m not sure I’m really cut out for that sort of classy living 🙂
Although Amtrak can hardly be called a train..the route from LA to Seattle is an amazing and beautiful way to see the west coast. At one point in Oregon you are suspended over the water in such a way that it causes you to feel no longer connected to the ground.