What is the most scenic train in Vietnam?

Where is the most beautiful train ride in the world?

Europe bleeds beauty; trains dissect it.

• Venice Simplon-Orient-Express: Paris to Portofino. Opulence on rails. Need I say more?

• Orient Express La Dolce Vita: Italy. Romance? Manufactured. Still a view.

• The Vietage by Anantara: Vietnam. Lush. Overhyped? Possibly.

• Eastern & Oriental Express: Southeast Asia. Jungle whispers. Exotic? A tourist trap.

• The Southern Cross by Rovos Rail: Africa. Dust and dreams. A harsh beauty, undeniable. I saw.

Extra Data:

• Belmond owns the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express and the Eastern & Oriental Express. Monopolies on nostalgia.
• Rovos Rail is based in Pretoria, South Africa.
• “La Dolce Vita” is a newer route; capitalizing on the brand. Clever, right? I think so.
• The Vietage is a shorter, luxury add-on. Quick hit.
• These journeys are expensive. Very. A hollow pursuit? Maybe it’s a question you need to ask yourself.
• I hate trains, and I hate how pretty they are. The irony.

What is the highest speed of bullet train?

Maglev. 603 kilometers per hour. Fast. Meaningless. Just a number. My top speed in my ’98 Civic? 120. Enough. Speed is relative. Isn’t everything? The L0. A bullet. Where’s the target?

• L0 Series: Japan’s maglev marvel.
• 603 km/h: A fleeting record.
• Magnetic levitation: Physics, bending to our will. Still chasing something.

Faster, further. What’s the point? My Civic gets me to the store. The maglev… connects cities. Same difference. Just scale. We crave speed. Escape velocity. From what? Ourselves.

• 2027 (projected): Chuo Shinkansen line. Tokyo-Nagoya. Then Osaka. Shrinking the world. Why?
• Superconducting magnets: The core tech. Repulsion. Like humans. Yet we connect. Irony.

A technological triumph. Pointless. Like a hummingbird. Fluttering furiously. Getting nowhere fast. But beautiful. Perhaps that’s it. The beauty of the absurd. My Civic needs new tires.

• Cost: Astronomical. For a few minutes saved. Time is money. But money isn’t time.
• Infrastructure: Massive undertaking. Reshaping the landscape. For what? Faster commutes? More meetings?

603. A number. A symbol. Of our relentless pursuit. Of what? I forgot. My Civic has a dent. Doesn’t matter. It moves.

• Speed: An illusion. We’re all standing still. On a spinning rock. Hurtling through space. At unimaginable speeds.

Is a train driver called an engineer?

Locomotive engineer. The words roll off the tongue, a whisper of steel and steam. A vast, echoing space, the landscape blurring past. Speed, a relentless pulse. Engineer. The title itself holds a weight, a gravity. My brother, Thomas, he always dreamed of it.

The conductor, a different rhythm entirely. A gentler pace, a human touch amongst the metal. He’s the shepherd of the journey, managing the flow. Helping lost souls, calming anxieties. Counting souls, a different kind of accounting.

Thomas always talked about the precise control. The feel of the throttle. The dance between the machine and his heart. The rhythmic chug. The smell of coal, even on these new electric ones. This I’m sure of, this I’ve witnessed. The unwavering focus. He felt like the train itself. An extension.

Conducting, more chaotic, I’d imagine. Dealing with spilled coffee, cranky children. Lost luggage. A different type of mastery. He has to maintain composure. Calm. Even with a screaming child and late arrival.

The engineer, a silent power, a solitary dominion over tons of metal. A quiet authority. The conductor, a visible presence, the face of the journey. Two sides of the same coin, two crucial roles, both integral. This is the difference between my brother and my uncle, for sure. Both necessary, both powerful in their own way. 2024. Remember it well.