Chapter Twenty-One: Spanish Polar Express

You already know that I took the opportunity to meet up with a friend in France based on my last blog. What you do not know is that when going to France, I happened to catch the Spanish Polar Express. That is, what I like to think of as the Spanish version of the Polar Express. There is something that has always drawn me towards trains. Whether it is the solemn distant sound that you hear from afar or the constant forward movement, there is truly something mesmerizing about a train ride. Thus, instead of catching a flight, I took the opportunity to see the landscape via train. And lucky for me, I was granted with a little magic that day.

At the time that I went, you may realize already that Europe was experiencing winter for what it is meant to be. Snow. Snow makes up winter. In that case when I caught my train from Bilbao to head to Bordeaux, I expected the landscape to change. But as the landscape changed from coast to inland, I did not expect the climate to change. So quick was the change that I do not recall when the change occurred. But it happened. I swear to it that I magically somehow stepped onto the Spanish version of the Polar Express. All of a sudden the trees, houses, cars, and everything around me turned to white. Although it was not Christmas time, it sure felt like it.

And just like a child on Christmas morning I was giddy as ever. I had seen snowflakes in my town awhile ago but it was nothing to compare to this. There was snow everywhere. And like a true Midwesterner from the United States who has missed winter so, I of course had to pull out my camera. Unfortunately my photos did not turn out the best. The movement of the train was too fast to get a clear picture.

Instead of viewing the picture right away, try to build a mental picture of what I saw. If you can recall the illustrations from the famous book, The Polar Express, you can imagine my train ride early that morning: Snow-covered roofs; clear white roads; farm animals grazing; frosted misty mountains; in the meantime you sit inside watching the snowflakes pass you by like as if you were in a snow globe.

On my Spanish Polar Express that day, I saw through the eyes of a child. I saw magic. And I believed. So believe me when I say this: Magic is real. You just need to believe. If you don't want to believe, take a train somewhere, anywhere, and you will be drawn into its magic.