In two months to the day, I’ll be in a train heading west.
*If the lord’s a-willin’ and the crick don’t rise.

Pulling out of Toronto’s Union Station. Look: I can take pictures of the future.

My first step in my trip around the world (or, more accurately, my trip to places until the funds dry up) will begin with days and days and days in a train.

Not exactly the Orient Express, but still infused with some of the romance, the Canadian will chug through some of this big country, which I expect to feel bigger the longer I watch trees and rocks and wheat for days and days and days, from Toronto to Vancouver. Do the names of trains get italicized in MLA style?

I’m not going to lie: 1.5 hours into my train ride to Ottawa last week, I was looking at my watch and wondering if I’d made a horrible mistake when I booked my 83-hour journey.

But I keep thinking of the fact that I want to know my own country, even if it’s just a little slit of it straight across, from a moving vehicle. I keep reminding myself that I have the time, probably for the last time in my life, to just sit and look at the world literally going by for 4 days. And I have never seen Saskatchewan.

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