A Train Bound for Clermont

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For those who have never taken one of the numerous trains in France, or for that matter Western Europe, the experience can be very difficult to explain, but I have wanted to try for some time and here it goes. I have now taken the train from Vichy into Clermont Ferrandmany times, and yet I still find myself captivated by the emerald-green rolling fields, the dense, dark forests, and the dots of white painted by sheep and cows that one passes in the 35 minute trip.

There is the long tunnel, rounded and mossy, and chateaus and silent ponds. One could argue though, that there isn't much on paper that could make this journey any more memorable than one in Canada, yet I am not alone in loving it.

Ten minutes out of town, the silhouettes of the peaked puys emerge against a dusty sky along the left side of the train. Your eye gets caught and follows them ahead of the train, until they break into the distant horizon.

The Puy de Dome is easily visibe now, towering high above Clermont's lights and noise. I remember climbing it and being breathless at the height. Its ancient peak is the crown of the rounded domes that enclose the city.

But I guess the magic isn't in the vista. Surely, there are greater heights, more suited for postcards and photographs. I can imagine a million more powerful views, ones worthy of being painted and immortalized in verse.

But this litte train ride makes you stop and take it in. It begs your mind to wonder. Each peak, each field, reminds me that I am far from home, far from where I belong. Yes, on this train there is not much one can do but gaze out the window and look ahead.

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Comments

[Mom]

Your writing skills...
This has to be one of the finest pieces of writing you have done. I am on that train, and with you in your thoughts. Mom