Posted in Life, Travel

An interlude

A few weekends ago we had an ‘interlude’.

It was gentle, cosy, inherently interesting, and relaxing as all interludes should be. Let me tell you about it.

We found our way to Platform 1, where the train was waiting. Tim said, “Three minutes to go”, to which I replied “Three minutes to adventure”. It really did feel like we were going an an adventure.

We’d packed our bags with as much electronic gadgetry as we could fit: iPads, iPhones, Kindles, laptops, and headphones. It meant we could play games, read, listen to music, write notes/emails/blog posts/discussion board posts/feedback on student assignments.

We could also just sit and gaze across the countryside flashing past. Or talk to each other. We had the possibilities covered.

I took a photo after we settled in.

That gave me an idea and every hour of the trip I took another photo to mark the time, but also to capture the countryside we were travelling across. My hypothesis was that it wouldn’t change much in the 11 hours we travelled. I didn’t take into account that it would get dark so early and so for the final hours of the trip the windows only reflected myself looking out.

Tim in our cosy cabin
Tim in our cosy cabin 8:58am

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Broadford 9:41am
Broadford (VIC) 9:41am
Glenrowan 10:58
Glenrowan (VIC) 10:58

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wangaratta 11:09
Wangaratta (VIC) 11:09
Jindera 12:03
Jindera (NSW) 12:03

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Rock 1:02pm
The Rock (NSW) 1:02pm
Junee Reefs 2:02 pm
Junee Reefs (NSW) 2:02 pm

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harden (NSW) 3:07 pm
Harden (NSW) 3:07 pm
Yass Junction (NSW) 4:02 pm
Yass Junction (NSW) 4:02 pm

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Goulburn (NSW) 5:11 pm
Goulburn (NSW) 5:11 pm
Moss Vale (NSW) 6:04 pm
Moss Vale (NSW) 6:04 pm

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Campbelltown (NSW) 7:09 pm
Campbelltown (NSW) 7:09 pm
Central Station (Sydney) 8:02 pm
Central Station (Sydney) 8:02 pm

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


We had left Melbourne on one of the very few cloudless days that city seems to enjoy each year and travelled under clear skies for most of the trip. I stepped off the train at Goulburn station and felt the chill in the air. Weatherzone said it was 6C there. Brrr.

We arrived in Sydney in the midst of a cold snap. Well, not cold so much as arctic. And raining. Our hotel was only a ten minute walk away, we dumped our bags, grabbed our cameras and headed out to see the lights of Vivid.


 

Sunday morning. Up at 5:30, shower, breakfast, quick walk to Central Station. Train.

Again, I took a photo every hour (or so) of our return journey.

Central Station (Sydney) 7:35am
Central Station (Sydney) 7:35am
Tahmoor (NSW) 8:46am
Tahmoor (NSW) 8:46am
Penrose (NSW) 9:40am
Penrose (NSW) 9:40am

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tirrannaville (NSW) 10:31
Tirrannaville (NSW) 10:31
Yarra (NSW) 10:32am
Yarra (NSW) 10:32am

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cullerin (NSW) 11:47am
Cullerin (NSW) 11:47am
Cootamundra (NSW) 12:43
Cootamundra (NSW) 12:43

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Somewhere (NSW)  1:35
Somewhere (NSW) 1:35
Culcairn (NSW) 2:44
Culcairn (NSW) 2:44

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

North Albury (NSW) 3:38
North Albury (NSW) 3:38
Somewhere (VIC) 4:36
Somewhere (VIC) 4:36

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh my gosh! (VIC) 5:34
Oh my gosh! (VIC) 5:34
Flinders St (Melbourne) 6:48
Flinders St (Melbourne) 6:48

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

At some point in the afternoon I said to Tim “It’s Sunday” and that word felt strange in my mouth.

It didn’t feel like any day. I felt outside of time, even though I marked time by taking a photo every hour.

It felt – it was – an interlude. A period of time outside of the norm, the regular, the usual. It was no day. It just was.

The bigness of the landscape – the far away horizon, the expanse of sky – was perfectly accompanied by Ludovico Einaudi’s Time Lapse in my headphones. If you haven’t listened to it while travelling across the landscape, I highly recommend it.

We chatted; I marked assignments; I gazed out of the window feeling the beautiful music wrap around me … and then I read the book Tim had bought a few days before (A monster calls) and when it ended I sat and cried.

And cried.


It was a long way to travel for just over 24 hours in Sydney – and though this is as cliched as ever I hope to get – it wasn’t about the destination.

It was about the getting there and the getting home. Yes … the journey. Or as I prefer to call it … the interlude.

One of my very favourite weekends.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Mystery Wrapped in an Enigma.”

My sister, as part of her blogging, often responds to the Daily Post’s writing prompt. I read her most recent post this morning and am taken back to that time, although not to the same place Deb was, as I didn’t study French and so wasn’t on the trip. I do remember our own trip though – Dad driving like a maniac to Sydney to pick Deb up after it happened. I didn’t know that Deb bought her wedding dress that day though, so you really do learn things through reading others’ blogs.

I don’t have any bravery awards to write about, but I do do something that you possibly don’t know about.

I walk to work (and catch two trains in between the walking).

No, let me finish, that isn’t it.

I walk to work and I know it’s almost time for me to start blogging again when I start narrating my walk.

Not out loud you understand, but inside, in the private space of my mind.

It started again one day last week when I came across a tree full of buds … and one leaf that lingered on the branch. Clinging on for dear life, not wanting to give in the inevitability of winter.

It was at that point my narration started. I started composing (not a story – just a narration) of the leaf. I played alliteratively with language, and then my attention was caught by other things: two crows on the lid of a wheelie bin, their beaks tearing into the plastic bag poking out from the top, the old lady bent almost double struggling with her gate “here, let me get that for you”, the L-plater on his motorbike wobbling to a stop, the young bloke in the furniture van being told off for going into the wrong gate, the baby’s feet sticking out from under the blanket that’s covering the rest of her in the pram, the number of coffee drinkers waiting edgily outside Egyptian Al’s coffee place.

As my eyes take in the world around me, my mind narrates snatches of story, descriptions, dialogue, explanations, silences, musings …

I walk to work and narrate my world.

And then some days later I consider writing a blog post.

I most often don’t make it that far though.

 


This post is written in response to the Daily Prompt from May 28.

Daily prompt post: A mystery wrapped in an enigma