I sit here in bunk No.33 Car 10 on Train No.11, the local time beaming exactly 2100 hours. We've been on the move for four hours now and the day's heat has just begun to take on a milder approach towards testing our determination in continuing this big journey. Moving towards Uzbekistan is not only a dream come true but also a great way to acclimatise for the impending road ahead towards Iran in the height of the summer. As insane as it sounds we want to see for ourselves how the Iranians live in one of the most challenging environment and hold on to being one of the greatest cradles of civilisation, clash of cultures, vault of history and the path trodden by many a nameless soul. But not before passing through extensive plains in this great big country, and not before gazing at the turquoise investments of the past conquerors of Uzbek empires.
Our train operator had come for a second round pouring water onto the corridor's carpet to cool down the interior of the car. Kazakhstan experiences cold most of the year, so the trains are fitted more with heaters rather than air conditioning. We quickly came to recognise the clanking of beer bottles from the friendly lady that sells some chilled drinks and snacks from her cart. Tomorrow will be another day of braving the heat and looking for a place to stopover before we arrange for our continuing move to the border. The last bit of my sunset bade farewell before the giant ball of flaming orange drops into the horizon like a coin in a box.
How many sunsets can a person see in their lifetime? I had been very fortunate to witness the many different times and versions of the same miracle across a couple of destinations now. Yet I have never been able to fathom or comprehend the implied mystery behind the works of God. How often we look at it? How still it captures us? With so much time spent on travelling between one location to another (comes with the territory of long distance travel) be it on a creaky van, sharing buses with fish and noisy cactus sellers, or a walnut-walled train, you get quite accustomed to the luxury of thinking. You come to realise a lot of things about yourself. That you make some wrongs, but you also make quite a number of rights too. That you will never be excellent in some but you will always excel in the rest. That you should listen to yourself better and ignore a lot of white noise from the crowd. It's a revolutionary road travelled so not often when I was stuck in a desk job and now I find myself contemplating about... well, myself and the world around me quite a bit. The best news of all is that I have never looked into the possibilities of my future with so much positivity like I do now. Why do I keep mumbling to myself in this fashion? Whether it's the experiences, a touch of sublimity, an encounter with the Divine, or the coffee this morning, I am thankful.
Passing the cooler pasture that extended into the darkness where I could barely make out the silhouette of clay domes covering the burial grounds of those who had passed before us, our sky of purple and pink bowed out to the blue of the night. Not sure what it is about train rides but other than waking up from the daze of the heat and thinking better / clearer now, it always bring out the poetic beauty of wanderings in us. Hubby is indulging in his wordless observation of the dying minutes of a countryside still lit by the remaining light. I catch myself pondering about how despite the odd sniffles, the uncomfortable ache of missing my own linen, carrying a backpack in the searing heat looking for an invisible trolley bus, waddling through foreign phrases, and going hungry at times in the middle of the night, I always come back to the same place.
That's feeling like the luckiest person in the world to be doing this.
Our train operator had come for a second round pouring water onto the corridor's carpet to cool down the interior of the car. Kazakhstan experiences cold most of the year, so the trains are fitted more with heaters rather than air conditioning. We quickly came to recognise the clanking of beer bottles from the friendly lady that sells some chilled drinks and snacks from her cart. Tomorrow will be another day of braving the heat and looking for a place to stopover before we arrange for our continuing move to the border. The last bit of my sunset bade farewell before the giant ball of flaming orange drops into the horizon like a coin in a box.
How many sunsets can a person see in their lifetime? I had been very fortunate to witness the many different times and versions of the same miracle across a couple of destinations now. Yet I have never been able to fathom or comprehend the implied mystery behind the works of God. How often we look at it? How still it captures us? With so much time spent on travelling between one location to another (comes with the territory of long distance travel) be it on a creaky van, sharing buses with fish and noisy cactus sellers, or a walnut-walled train, you get quite accustomed to the luxury of thinking. You come to realise a lot of things about yourself. That you make some wrongs, but you also make quite a number of rights too. That you will never be excellent in some but you will always excel in the rest. That you should listen to yourself better and ignore a lot of white noise from the crowd. It's a revolutionary road travelled so not often when I was stuck in a desk job and now I find myself contemplating about... well, myself and the world around me quite a bit. The best news of all is that I have never looked into the possibilities of my future with so much positivity like I do now. Why do I keep mumbling to myself in this fashion? Whether it's the experiences, a touch of sublimity, an encounter with the Divine, or the coffee this morning, I am thankful.
Passing the cooler pasture that extended into the darkness where I could barely make out the silhouette of clay domes covering the burial grounds of those who had passed before us, our sky of purple and pink bowed out to the blue of the night. Not sure what it is about train rides but other than waking up from the daze of the heat and thinking better / clearer now, it always bring out the poetic beauty of wanderings in us. Hubby is indulging in his wordless observation of the dying minutes of a countryside still lit by the remaining light. I catch myself pondering about how despite the odd sniffles, the uncomfortable ache of missing my own linen, carrying a backpack in the searing heat looking for an invisible trolley bus, waddling through foreign phrases, and going hungry at times in the middle of the night, I always come back to the same place.
That's feeling like the luckiest person in the world to be doing this.
