Sunday, October 02, 2005

Sound of The Ages

Did you ever hear the sound of a steam locomotive proudly tooting? In front of your waggon? Followed by a sonorous reply from the back? Did you ever watch the low and fast flying clouds above your face, feel the wind, smell the smoke with the fine taste of tobacco? Did you ever listen to the blowing and stamping of the machine, follow the steady moving of the coupling rods forth and back, up and down, pushing the wheels forward?

I did – and i’ll do it again...

more by accident than by design, just because it happens here, in my small village somewhere in the South West, where the history roots back to the times, when religion decided who’s to live and who’s to die and my gentle little village was wrecked by the murderous Thirty Years War, so that the prince decided to invite the Huguenots to revive the ghostly place.

At those times, the Huguenots were well educated people, forced to flee the Catholic France, thankful to get a new home, even when they had to live as ordinary farmers. As time went by, the differences between the people in the region faded away, until only the names and the stories of the old women told the tale of the ancestors.

Then, as the railroad reached the area, the common people feared the blowing and stamping black monsters – except for the still open minded descendants of the Huguenots. That’s the reason why the smallest village around has the biggest station around.

And that’s the reason why today the steam locomotives did come back to stay for a while in a nice little village of no importance – proudly tooting, mightily puffing steam…

waiting for me to enter.

Spider of the universe – spinning webs from the past to the steam to let me ride the blowing and stamping black monster.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

That is so beautiful.

I'm sure you'd love to visit some of the Indian hill stations (near my old boarding school, Darjeeling) they still have steam engines there. Only thing, these are smaller toy trains. But I remember waiting for the trains every evening around 4:15 pm, standing on the slope at the edge of the one of the tea plantations.

At first, you could see the steam rising from between the green curves of the slopes, then you would hear the train, and finally the train would show itself. It used to be the highpoint of the day- we didn't have TV or radio except in the week days. That and watching the sun rise on Mt. Kunchanjunga's peaks. That was entertainment for us.

You just brought back some very sweet memories- thanks Again, again. :)

5:37 PM, October 02, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Did I say week day? I meant week ends.

5:38 PM, October 02, 2005  
Blogger Again said...

You just brought back some very sweet memories

i guess that's the real thing behind the steam locomotives - dreams and memories

you would've liked it today - 4 steam locomotives at the same time, none with modern looking waggons - together with our old-style station...

weird and great feeling watching the waiting black and white clouds breathing locomotives while you can follow the steam and the noise of the arriving...

then the first leaving with this characteristic "puff puff puff", followed one by one - and the last one triumphantly tooting

as if their time had never passed

2:31 AM, October 03, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You brought back some wonderful memories to me, too. There's nothing like the sound of a steam engine and its mournful whistle, which to me is on a par with the deep, sonorous sounds from a ship at sea. Old lighthouses, too. Ahhhhhh.

I owe you an email. Sorry about that.

10:51 AM, October 07, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Portugal got rid of all the old trains. Now they're all sleek and new while they country suffers great poverty.

I was talking about the trains from my childhood.

I'd love to be where you are for a day just to see and hear the steam'ers again.

10:53 AM, October 07, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I just remembered a bluegrass-type song I wrote.

Every time I hear
the whistle of a train
something stirs up deep inside me
something I can't explain
It triggers off a memory
buried in my soul
of a perfect sunny day
atop a grassy knoll

i forget the rest

11:12 AM, October 07, 2005  
Blogger Again said...

sorry, b, to be so late - sometimes i forget the time

I owe you an email. Sorry about that.

no problem - as long as i know i didn't say something wrong to hurt a friend, it doesn't matter to wait

I'd love to be where you are for a day just to see and hear the steam'ers again.

i'll try to get a good picture to put in on my german blog, i'll tell you ;-)

bluegrass-type song

what does that mean? Sounds great

9:21 AM, October 08, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I am so sorry about the mail. Truthfully I haven't been well and it's all I can do to write everyday and then I'm drained.

Bluegrass....related to country but nothing like it. Banjos, a certain picking style. I'm not happy with the last two lines as I added them when I couldn't remember the original.

It was a great song if I must say so myself ;) Too bad most of it is missing.

If I feel better tomorrow I will email you. that's a promise.

8:35 AM, October 14, 2005  
Blogger Again said...

It was a great song if I must say so myself ;) Too bad most of it is missing.

maybe in a peaceful night the words come back?

then please tell me - i published "the beginning" and called it "Whistle of a train", is that ok?

7:31 AM, October 15, 2005  

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