Back in Brooklyn.
Soon I'll post some more blurry train pictures, from another breathtakingly beautiful trip on The Adirondack from Montreal to New York. Aside from a grumpy, rude, unprofessional crew (quite the opposite, on the trip up), it was bliss. Wide seats, plenty of legroom, power outlets for computers at the seat, hot strong coffee from the thermos, the cafe car if you feel like spreading out, with a table between you, to eat your own picnic and drink your own wine, and the scenery, frame after frame of perfectly composed landscape. Farmland with brown furrows in the white expanse; mist lifting from trees; crows flying over dried yellow corn stalks; icicles clinging to lake-bound rocks; petrified trees in frozen lowland; cracked ice sheets; ice fisherpersons; broad rivers; massive lakes; ice flows; bald eagles. And no inkling - apart from the dreary wait at Customs - that it is all taking 11 hours.
It is a trip I recommend. And winter may be the best time to do it.
When I was home I thought I was ill with a dizziness that made me feel as though I lurched in the shower and jumped in our bed. Vince said, It's just train sickness. And it was. My body thought it was still riding the rails.