Bokelskere.no

Over the previous eleven days the Trans-Mongolian had shown me that there were no real beginnings or endings, borders or boundaries. I'd watched lake grow into seas, mountains rise then recede, deserts expand then shrink. Passengers had come and gone with a gradation of features sharpened and darkened from one end of the line to the other. For days, the train's trajectory across space and wilderness had plagued me with a feeling of displacement, the state of being in between. But now, I had a greater sense of place than ever before, bearing witness to the truth that the world was small. close and connected.

'It’s so lovely,’ said the mother. 'We have a word in Dutch, gezellig, which means that there are no boundaries and that everyone is sharing and getting along with everyone else.'
'Is there an English equivalent?'
'No, it's a word that describes an atmosphere or feeling... Iike we are a train family.'
No one had ever summarised the nature of train travel in such a simple and wonderful way, and as the train clanked and jolted on its way, I kept repeating the word to myself, gezellig ...

Big cities heaved with potential: for the next two days there would be doors to open, streets to cross, corners to turn, alleys to discover, people to brush past, smoke to inhale, sashimi to taste, buttons to press, clothes to try, metros to ride, cats to stroke, eyebrows to raise, and ramen to burn my tongue. But at this moment, the unknown was all I needed.