A traveler A story
Every traveler has a story to tell. There is a beautiful world out there, and there are so
many people living in it. Each one of them went through something in their lives.
Something that changed them in one way or another.
Some weeks ago I got on a plane at Gatwick Airport in London, and landed in Bordeaux Merignac Airport in the South West of France. I then travelled to “Bordeaux Gare St Jean train Station” to catch the train to my next destination.
I bought my ticket and waited for the 2.30 pm train. I sat in the waiting lounge, and knowing that I was in the middle of a large crowd. I took a look at the people around me. I knew from then that we were all from different territories, cultures and traditions. Watching all the faces passing by and they are faces that I shall probably never see again or have the chance to say “bonjour” or hello to. These people are all beings who have experienced some kind of travel, they have reached places that I may not have been or I have been to places they have never seen and they would definitely have been through something that changed them.As the time ticked closer to 2.30 pm, I left the lounge for the platform B (voie B – as they say in French), while the microphone announced the arrival of the train from “Bordeaux to La Rochelle Ville.” And many of us boarded the same train. Without knowing who they were, I knew already that individually, we will all be disembarking at different stations.
As the train left “Bordeaux St Jean,” my journey started to unfold through the beautiful French countryside, so relaxing, green and peaceful.I looked around me one more time, and all I experienced was that everyone was busy, – a mobile phone, a laptop, or an ipad. We all had something going on in our minds.
At some era, we all defeated something in our life that’s made us the way we are today, or even why we are on the same train for a different reason. Each and every one of us have had some kinds of achievements and happiness, griefs and heartaches, mysteries we never told, and commitments we never kept; we all had a different foregoing. It is deranged when we surmise it, verily, since we all came from different walks of life and time-served our every moments unalike.Well you know what? You don’t have to get on a plane to experience travelling. You can only catch a bus from your own town to another, and you may still meet with some new experiences that may change your life forever.
As the train started to reach stations to stations, some people stepped down and others boarded the train.
Each one of them has their own enthusiasm, their own faculties, their own triumphs, their own miscarriage, and their own nonpareil existence. And on that same train we travelled, we all had one thing in common only, “we all boarded the train at one station and we all got down at another.” But hence we all travelled the same train, to a different destination for a different reason.
As the train announced that we were approaching the station of “Saintes,” I knew that I was coming to the end of my railway journey for the day. I too was to leave some people behind to continue their journey. My journey did not end just there, I boarded a coach (“la navette”) like the French calls it), from “Saintes” station to “Royan” train station for another hour or so on the road – another experience which I surely enjoyed very much. It wasn’t only a coach ride, but something else was to explode – hum hum, I thought I knew the driver of the Coach “hahaha!” Well, well, I wasn’t sure if it was him, but deep down my feelings was strong that he was the person I knew when I visited Paris when I was 20 years old. Those days he worked for “Jet Tour Paris.” Well I bought my coach ticket from him and I boarded the coach. I thought for minutes and my mind started to roll on those days when I met him many years ago in Paris, he was young, handsome and charming. Well the journey went on. After we arrived at Royan train station, it was pouring down heavily, and with a blowing freezing wind. I couldn’t leave without knowing if the driver was the person I knew. I asked him the question at arrival point, he was surprised and happy. He hugged me and he handed me his card and said “call me, we need to talk and catch up where we left off some 20 odd years ago, please do not miss it.” And I said to him, “yes I will.”
My friend met me and we drove home in the pouring rain. And that was the end of my journey for my first day in France.
And everyone whose journey crossed mine that day had their own story to tell. Crazy but bewildering all the same.
Well my lovely people, I hope you have had a good read, and I will be back soon.Pictures and words are my properties – And pictures are of the “Bordeaux St Jean Train Station.”