Du du du du

Du du du du. Du du du du. Du du du du. The sound of the train echoes through the tunnel as it appears from beneath the stacks of buildings and passes over the Yantra River. It is distant enough not to be loud, but loud enough to put a smile on my face. I love that sound. It is the music of travel, a symphony of comings and goings, a mystery. Where are the people heading to? Are they in search of new adventures, or are they going home after a long journey? Are they going to visit friends of family, or are they lonely travelers desperate for companionship? Are they on business? Going to a wedding? A funeral? The birth of a new life? Du du du du. Du du du du. Du du du du. The rumbling has a sort of mechanical beauty to it, manufactured but not false.

There's nothing like a train. I wish America would fall in love with railroads. As it is now, they are ridiculously priced, take twice as long as by car, and don't stop many places. When I came back from Turkey, I had to change trains in a town called Stara Zagora. I bought a ticket for a trip through the Shipka Pass over the Stara Planina (Central Balkan Mountains) - a three hour journey back to Veliko Turnovo.

It cost $2.50

I love trains. Du du du du. Du du du du. Du du du du.