It feels good. My first train ride in Morocco… freedom and some personal space and a break from the go-go-go…
At one stop along the way, I slipped out to get some fresh air at the back of the car. For some reason, the car door did not close when we began moving again. I sat there in the open doorway drinking in the wide scenery of green hills, shepherds and sheep, orchards of oranges, tiny children running in the dirt, wild hobo cats, gangs of gentlemen playing checkers, shanty towns, and palm tree gardens…. taking it all in like a dog hanging out of a pickup truck window, ocean wind in my face… After several cities and stops, a conductor eventually made his rounds back to our last car. I pretended not to see him coming and acted like I belonged there… until he reached over me, shut the car door, and scolded me in Arabic about how dangerous it was… I pretended to suddenly understand that he was right and how it never occurred to me that I could have fallen out…

Sometimes you have to break the rules… and keep pushing forward… until someone tells you to stop…