#332 InterRail
The concept of 365 things you can do emerged in Navid Modiri’s head as he sat in an airport hyper-ventilating over how he’d become a miserable human being. But as he looked up between his not-breathing he saw John Tells book "100 ways to save the world". That’s how 365 things started. This is a way to praise Johan Tell, and the planet. Here are: Seven things you can do to save the world.
There is something surreal about flying. It’s not about the strange sounds in the fuselage when you take off or the landing that always feels improvised. It’s not the miniature bags of peanuts or the flight attendants that remind you of Korean robotic assistants. It's about the simple fact that you walk into a large machine and watch romantic comedies for four hours and suddenly you are in another country. Without actually seeing what you took you there.
Despite thousands of delays, screaming children and nasty aunts, I love trains. I always take an hour at the beginning of the train ride to look out the window. No music, no books or notebooks. No laptop. Nothing. Just me and the whooshing. It's as if my brain recognizes the scene. It will immediately begin to unwind. It is cognitive somehow.
I would like to be able to tell my children that I was conceived on a train. Make up a story that my parents met in a compartment between Isfahan and Arak. I would make up that they began to joke about the conductors mustache. There is something genuine and romantic about trains that remains despite the decline of steam trains and the fact that conductors today rarely have pocket watches or big mustaches.
Interrailing is something that people did in ancient times. It is not just about the journey but about how you travel. Travelling slowly. Staying in multiple cities. Seeing the countryside and small towns. The distance between A and Z.


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