Train To Martigny

I don’t know if anyone else out there shares this affliction, but each time I travel, I worry that I’m travelling in the wrong vessel, about to be stranded in some alien and inescapable location. Leaving Dulles, I half-expected the pilot to announce a destination other than Geneva, leaving me trapped in a vicious vortex of self-criticism. I have a good sense of direction, and am also a very good traveler, yet this worry and doubt persists, relegating me to a routine of mental calisthenics to quell it. This happens even on my well-travelled routes. I can doubt myself on my way to Halibut Point in Rockport, MA, even though it is one of my favorite points on earth. I rarely get lost, and when I do I always navigate myself to my intended destination. Alas, it’s just part of a nervous disposition.

So here I am, traveling on the train out of Geneva, wondering if indeed I will soon arrive at Martigny, where I will then change trains. The system is well organized and easy enough to follow. I have a ticket that was verified by the attendant along with a clear itinerary provided by ticket vendor back at the station. And thus I realize, my nervousness is really masked excitement.

It is a beautiful day here in Switzerland. 19 degrees Celsius, which is somewhere in the low 60s F. It feels pretty fantastic to be in the sun. Ignorant to my surroundings, I sat on the West side of the train, and therefore distanced myself of the view of the Lake. Nevertheless, I have seen lush green countryside, the city of Montreaux, multiple vineyards, a highway filled with tiny little euro cars. All of this under a bright blue and cotton specked sky, where the elegant white clouds drape over the Alps like scarves. I can hear conversations and announcements in French, German, and English, and bear witness to smart European fashion. I can’t believe I am here. It’s been so long. I vow to comeback sooner, and drive my life in the direction that I want. I can make my dreams come true. It is up to me. I realize that I might be nervous on the way, but if I am committed, I will make it there.

And voila, nous arrivons a Martigny. What was I thinking?