September 30 and November 21: LAST TRAINS TO BERLIN

Circumstances compelled me this November to take a second working trip south of the Alps, and in part this trip helped me gather enough solar-charged courage to face the coming winter, to finally face the darkness
As much as I am embedded with beloved friends, their deep and rewarding friendships, and my own location in a well-established home, neighbourhood, and creative work community, there's always a mixed and sinking feeling returning to over-hyped Berlin/the dark chill of Germany's north at this time of the year

No more south of the Alps glorious sunsets ending dry warm days that have lasted over one comparative hour later; less brightness in the sky; the utter lack of sea...

...not to mention confrontation with a sadly conservative dress-sense

And I admit the (only) bad thing about trains is too much time to contemplate these absences, though all three of my connecting trains back from the south to the north are packed full in a twelve-hour commute, a crowdedness which at the very least is an extremely good thing as it equals a lot of people on trains

Strangely, every carriage I've been allocated to is adjacent the restaurant car: When the queue at your favourite hole-in-the-wall cafe at Marseille St Charles lasts 5 minutes for 3 people so you sensibly have to race away to board your vehicle, forfeiting espresso, pain o chocolat and Jambon supplies, this proves slightly more expensive but indeed fortuitous 

So, almost entirely unrelated... two trains of thought via high-speed long-distance rail, separated by seven weeks:

1.  30 September
Outside the window of the ICE 643 between Hanover and Berlin
there is only darkness

as a reminder of what I return to the male German conductor tells me off 
(for my most untidily-filled out InterRail paper work)
and the female conductor gives me chocolate 

2. 21 November:  Railroad Notes Around Midday

 

In the black hole of onboard Wi-Fi coverage

between somewhere after Lyon and before Strasbourg

catching up 300 seconds of lost time

our TGV races at 314 km/h

through sunny-foggy-sunny

cow and great white egret-studded

French countryside

it seems incredible that we are able

to reduce speed to zero

in time for our scheduled arrival

at Besançon Franche-Comté

in two minutes – according to the digital notice board –

but we arrive one minute later

and manage it in three

unpacked and repacked with a united nations

of train time travellers at the lunch hour

our carriage is odorized

with a similarly textured mix

of BO, eggs, croque-monsieur, and basmati rice salad dressing

while continuity announcements smatter

in trilingual French, German and English

we inhale

hold

our noses

and exhale

to un-pop

our popping

ears

marvelling at technology 
which can

hurtle us together 
in a capsule 
upon electrified steel 
across earthly space

using low-carbon-emitting energy sources

or play automated greetings to we patrons, with “Good morning” in the afternoon, 
while info-screen wording us up

on how to access our free onboard online external world

(simultaneous with these circa two-point-five
high noon-circling hours)

when actually infra-structurally unable to provide that very connected  
service in this disconnect zone, our windows scrolling rural scenes at velocity