When I picture a train the first image on my mind is that of a long convoy crossing a vast plain with a beautiful scenery of mountains in the distance: it is a cinematographic image we all have seen, usually accompanied by a dramatic score. Trains and railway stations have been and continue to be frequently featured in books, movies and series as places where key events in a storyline take place: spies exchanging information discreetly, a thrilling persecution surrounded by hundreds of travellers, the emotional encounter of a passenger with their loved ones or the painful separation of lovers.

Trains have allowed me to explore both the cities I lived in and the ones I visited with more freedom and certainly less stress than that of car drivers. By strolling through escalators, hallways and platforms; by reading on panels and boards and also by interacting with fellow passengers I have learned their history, I have appreciated more the privilege of being there and I have become part of them either temporarily or permanently. And especially because a number of unforgettable episodes of my life happened during, shortly before or after a ride on a subway, regional or international train.

In Boston, Massachusetts, the city that changed my life, I took the MBTA Green Line, branch C, from Cleveland Circle to downtown, right after my admissions interview at Boston College. I was wearing suit and tie seated at the back of an empty car, thinking about the interview, reading sporadically the headlines of a newspaper forgotten -or left intentionally- on the seat next to me, and wondering if I would make it -eventually I did it-, all of this while watching the quiet, leafy streets of Brookline pass by me. In Toronto, Ontario, the city I now call home and a city I should be more grateful to, I was just a tourist on a cold day of December when I arrived for the very first time to Canada to spend Christmas with my family who was also here. The TTC Line 2 took me from Kipling station to downtown. A long ride on a tunnel, too tired to read or talk, that finished with me dragging my lugagge on a snowy Bay street with the skyscrapers of Yorkville around me. The first ride of so many in this sprawling metropolis.

In Paris, France, I truly experienced the meaning of what breathtaking is on board the Paris Métro, Line 6. The adjective “breathtaking” is many times used exageratedly or unnecessarily by the media for minor events but this is not the case: if you ever go to Paris (or if you have already been to but have not done this), take Line 6 at two or three stations north of the Seine river, southbound (to Nation), pick a seat on the left hand side next to the window and wait for the moment the train crosses the Seine from Passy station to Bir Hakeim station: the sudden shock of seeing the Eiffel Tower in all its splendour and at full speeed when the train leaves the narrow Rue de l’Alboni will be forever forged in your heart and on your mind as it is on mine.

I could continue with more examples like the beautiful rides the extremely punctual Swiss trains offer to those who travel anywhere across that peaceful country but I think I have accomplished my objective of explaining briefly why I have chosen the name for this blog. An ironic detail in all these tales is that even though I have been to trains in many countries I have not yet taken a single ride on my hometown’s subway system: Metro de Lima. I left my hometown long before it started operations but the time will come when I will enjoy a ride as a visitor -like I have mostly been in other places- and this time in the city where I was born and raised.

This is not a blog only about trains, stations and the railway industry. Above all it is about the things I have seen and see and the experiences I have been to (some profound, some shallow), how they have impacted me or how I have processed them internally because, in my college years, I was described by classmates as much more of an observer than a talker and, therefore, this is a way to substitute those conversations that I would like to have had and did not happen.

Additionally there was a dark period in those years transitioning from the academic environment to the professional world in which I needed answers and really thought the dilemmas I had at that time (career, sexuality, religion) were unique to me and no one would understand but by searching and reading what others in similar circumstances had shared I found my problems reflected accurately on theirs and then I found solace, answers and piece of mind.

This initial post is a bit of personal manifesto with ideas that were assembled not only while sitting on my desk but also while walking on the street, while changing in the locker room and, evidently, while riding on a train. Very interesting how ideas come to the writer unexpectedly. I finished it and I am ready to share it.

I am Nestor, the guy who likes trains.

Flying over Omaha, Nebraska