Spring Vacation, 1992. I travel across Northern Europe via Eurorail pass.
After an engaging stay in Amsterdam, into which I flew out of Heathrow, I hop the first train down to Brugge. The marble square, the multiple steps up its picturesque tower, the bike ride through the countryside with two aquaintences I met at our Youth Hostel, then on the train once more, this time to Paris.
rattle and hum
daydreaming as I gaze
out the window
The Eiffel Tower, the outside of the Louve and Versailles, the streetside cafes. The picnic lunch with two blokes I met along the road: a 10 Franc bottle of read, bread and brie, under the Eiffel and a starry night. All too soon, back on the train, north for Copenhagen.
nighttime travel
the swaying of a sleeper
on a ferry
Clean streets. Pedestrians that wait for green before crossing the street. The Hans Christian Anderson charm of the city. A night of keeping hostel-mates awake with a noisy space blanket, before I broke down and requested a rental of ordinary ones from the owner. Then, back on the train for the university town of Lund, in Sweden.
overcast sky
a landscape still in thrall
to winter
Charming townhomes, and an enticing campus, not much else to see as night draws in. Soon, I’m aboard a train with another sleeper, this time bound for Berlin.
platform at night
that familiar NY chill
up my spine
A tale of two cities. The Time-Square-aspiring, former West Berlin sports all of the neon glamor. The spacious squares and granite memorials of the once-East Berlin testify to the Stalin-era propaganda of the former Soviet satellite state. Beautiful gardens, in which the best-trained Doberman pincher I ever saw scurried to his master’s side at a word. But it was in Berlin that I realized my solo Spring Break had come to an end.
one last train ride
So much countryside in
so little time
Punam hosts Tuesday Poetics over at dVerse, where we address our train travel experiences.
The pub is still open! Come join us!
Frank J. Tassone 
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