One day on the train, life before Melbourne: Part One
We took the trains to Xi’an. Up to now, it’s where I’ve spent the first half of my life.
The trains would usually be packed with people in late January and early February due to the Chinese New Year, but there weren’t many passengers on board that day, in late December. There could have been sounds of kids talking aloud, elder people’s conversations, sunflower seeds eating(which makes a snapping sound), water pouring, solitary passengers finishing their instant noodles, phone talking, games, and even sometimes, music.(Some people “sodcast”.:)) It was overwhelming, not a very pleasant environment for a journey when such noises dominate the soundscape. However, that day was a good day. The loudest sound was the train’s movement, which was perfectly mechanical: a “tong-tong” followed by a quieter one repeatedly.
I sat by the window of about more than one square meters big, my back to the side of the train, facing my compartment, with a narrow aisle between that and me. Parents had also settled in, looking at their phones—wifi-enabled phones with big screens. It amazed me that only in early 2000s, we used Nokia, flip phones and slider phones. Then almost suddenly, people went crazy for iphones overnight. At least that was how I felt in China back then. New smartphones segmented my life and time since them, not to mention the lessened amount of real, fruitful conversations I could’ve had with friends. I don’t blame technology; I blame people like me let phones take over our lives so easily.
The train must have been operating for at least 20 years. The interior looked worn; the bed sheets seemed over-washed for the red words on it had faded a bit; the floor was moderately clean; the extraordinarily small table had been wiped but for once; the window frame had not been cleaned with care. As I looked at the other passenger who was having some snacks several meters down the aisle, he looked tired. The wrinkles on his face told me of his age; as he looked outside the window, the look in his eyes told me of his worry. I had seen the look before. Thousands of us Chinese had it. There are too many older trains still operating, in a less satisfying state, carrying workers, farmers, any ordinary people between big cities and their small towns during the new year. People are far too ordinary to enjoy any privileges. It was just sad to think that many people’s lives never really improved for the past 50 years: the trains were always like that. I had been in those older trains before. There was also a smell of sour instant noodles. Every time I thought of this, I could come with tears. They worked so hard, but for what?
Anyway, the sound of journey cheers me up. “Tong-tong; tong-tong.Tong-tong; tong-tong……” I suppose there is still a way to go before any changes happen, just like where I was then, on the road; but destination will be reached some day.
“Sunshine of that day” by Haomeimei
