A porter in a starched white jacket asks me to follow him up the steps. I am boarding a train straight out of an Agatha Christie novel. There is a discreetly wallpapered ceiling, the sides of the car are shining wood paneling, and the seats are not simply seats.
They are wing-backed chairs with a complementary upholstery that sets off the stark white table cloths. Small glowing lamps are ever-so-tastefully nestled next to a small vase of real flowers. The tulip lamps that light the interior of the car give it a warm glow and there are little framed photos of old fashioned train travel at every other seat. The overall effect is one of old-world glamour. The kind of glamour that cries out to b spelled in the British tradition. Glamour.
I'm aboard the Andean Explorer and it is scheduled to take a mere ten hours from Cusco to Puno. A bus will get you there in six hours, but the train is An Experience all by itself. I should be wearing a smart traveling outfit, with a hat, gloves and matching purse, but instead I'm in Jill Utility Travel Gear: stretch pants, a tunic, boots and a basic black jacket. My matching black backpack completes the generic American urban traveler look.
As we move slowly to of town, I'm practically bouncing in my seat with excitement. Most of my previous train experiences have not been the best. They've usually involved terrible, gut wrenching smells, luggage chaos, or a fight for a decent seat, or sleeping with Russian strangers (and not in the good way). So this is a treat.
They are wing-backed chairs with a complementary upholstery that sets off the stark white table cloths. Small glowing lamps are ever-so-tastefully nestled next to a small vase of real flowers. The tulip lamps that light the interior of the car give it a warm glow and there are little framed photos of old fashioned train travel at every other seat. The overall effect is one of old-world glamour. The kind of glamour that cries out to b spelled in the British tradition. Glamour.
I'm aboard the Andean Explorer and it is scheduled to take a mere ten hours from Cusco to Puno. A bus will get you there in six hours, but the train is An Experience all by itself. I should be wearing a smart traveling outfit, with a hat, gloves and matching purse, but instead I'm in Jill Utility Travel Gear: stretch pants, a tunic, boots and a basic black jacket. My matching black backpack completes the generic American urban traveler look.
As we move slowly to of town, I'm practically bouncing in my seat with excitement. Most of my previous train experiences have not been the best. They've usually involved terrible, gut wrenching smells, luggage chaos, or a fight for a decent seat, or sleeping with Russian strangers (and not in the good way). So this is a treat.
I change seats so that I'm not sitting directly across from the person with an obvious cold, and so I can ride facing forward for the next ten hours. But as we get further and further underway, I just start feeling sad. I know who should be sitting across from me right now...but I'm riding a train with a ghost.
RADICAL SELF CARE IS NECESSARY RIGHT NOW.
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