The Trans-Siberian Railway is a hundred years old but I seem to have lost the desire to travel on it – even if I had the money. I used to, along with the Venice-Simplon Orient Express, but I have a feeling I’d meet the same nationalities I see amassing and proliferating in all countries – and more pertinently in this small town – and the same arrogance.
There’s also a strange contest to boast about how many countries a person has seen: people can be just as ignorant before and after their “travelling” – and, judging by some I’ve met, they usually are.
How many people know how to travel? I think there’s an etiquette to it: in speech, manner, behaviour, and it’s one that continually needs to be practised, in the same way there’s an etiquette to staying in a hotel or travelling on a bus.
Travel has for some years become increasingly irritating, just like my neighbour, now freeloading neighbourS. Subject of another post, perhaps.
Maybe it’s the depressing effect of my bijou residence and this small town but the photos and well wishes on social media seem to be without genuine feeling, especially those taking advantage of the opportunity to advertise tours. I suppose in some other life I could go during the off-season (whenever that might be) but it all seems a bit disheartening.
That said: Happy 100th Birthday, Trans-Siberian Railway.