Living on Trains

Today is Sunday, June 29th. The fourth full day of us being in Europe. I can officially say, that I have spent more time on trains than in a hotel. or possibly, even more time on a train than not on a train. There are pro's and cons to living on a train.

Pro's, you always have a bathroom within a car's distance from you. There are usually restaurants or snack bars on all the trains. We have been traveling in first class (enough said!). I have power outlets on board the trains for typing blogs and such. I get to see a lot of beautiful countryside this way. We can make it to shows on time in different countries. you can sleep and be awake in the same seat.

Con's, You can't sleep well in the same place you have to sit all day. You don't have a large selection of food on board, and it's pricey. You don't sleep well. You have to cram your luggage into small spaces. Sleeping is hard to do in a public place.

Our first show was a little rough. But our second show, last night in Interlaken Switzerland, was pretty cool. there was a HUGE crowd. The venue held 5,000 people, if they were all crammed in there, we played to several thousand at least. The show was smooth for the most part, no hiccups, no glaring mistakes, just good solid music. The crowd seemed to enjoy it a good deal. We had backstage dressing areas with tons of water, coke, and espresso, and true to europe form, beer. Needless to say, I stuck to water and coke-a-cola all night.

Today, I am living on a train, watching the scenery zip by in a blur on a high speed train. the landscape seems to change by the moment, slipping from swiss architecture, into italian. ramshackle buildings give way to lush green vineyards, snaking their way across the ground in neat rows, disappearing into the horizon. The low lying crops fold into the forests of northern Italy, dotted with orange clay rooftops and small narrow streets caught by surprise in a clearing when the train comes roaring overhead. The sky is a hazy blue, streaked with finer whites where clouds stagger themselves over the catholic shrines and hay fields. The train rushes on, held up by the two steel rails beneath it, shimmering before us, and resting behind us, bearing us closer to Rome, where we'll be able to stand in the train station for a few mere moments before another train whisks us away to the Airport in Rome and the waiting plane which will bear us to Albania by this evening.

And with that being said, I am now folding up my laptop, letting the screen shut with a silent click, to study the changing landscape, to take in the Italian language scrawled on train station signs, to glimpse more vineyards hidden between larger buildings, or perhaps to try and find the house that the vineyard belongs to. Ah, Italy . . .