(no subject)

I've been thinking about warmer weather, vacation time, and travel. I have a huge, huge list of things I'd like to do and see. They range from the sublime to the absurd, from everyday to the once in a lifetime.

The most recent brainstorm is based on a trip I took with my mom when I was a teenager, a train trip across Canada. An incredible trip; around the Great Lakes, across the plains, over the Canadian Rockies, and dropping down into Vancouver.

I've been looking at either going from Toronto or Montreal to Vancouver and back again via rail. I also checked into adding a ferry trip from Portland to Halifax with another train leg Halifax to Montreal, but that would only if we were planning to go "on season" which make the cost prohibitive. I don't think it will be on the schedule for this year. A bit too much time and money involved. But it's a strong contender for the future.

Quote of the day

"While waiting for the train to return home, I noticed an elderly man deeply absorbed in a book. He had a preoccupied and thoughtful air and was dressed with a certain distinguished carelessness that bespeaks the bibliomaniac. The lady by his side, probably his wife, was critically observing the passers-by, as women are wont to do. The man now and then would mark certain passages with his pencil and read them in a low voice to the lady. He was absolutely unconscious of his surroundings until suddenly she glanced at the clock, jumped up in an alarming manner and, seized his arm, hurried with him to catch their train. His bewildered, faraway look was worthy of a study. The incident filled me with terror for the future. Reverse the sexes and you see me with my poor, poor husband. I in a daze and rapture, my husband with his wits about him, interrupting me, I refusing to awake completely, allowing him to drag me to the train, to push me into a seat and to place himself, resolute, panting, defiant at my side, to preserve and protect me while I am wondering why Marcus Aurelius said: "Life is a warfare and a pilgrim's sojourn." --- Anais Nin