A snack-machine-carriage-reflection

On a train, from Salzburg to Vienna, surrounded by people, but alone. The dining cars are gone, and all that remains are snack machines. The former social space has been erased and replaced by efficiency. Pushing us to retreat into screens, almost avoiding connections. We have forgotten how to be present, how to be bored. Can we re-learn it for tomorrow, or the day after that?

I am sitting in the Westbahn, the train that goes from Salzburg to Vienna. In the Westbahn, there are no dining cars anymore; they have been replaced by coffee and snack machines. The sandwiches in them have always seemed sketchy to me. Next to these machines, there are two tables with benches, which are usually empty. The tables are bigger than the ones in the regular compartments, making them practical for writing on your laptop, and you are right next to a source of coffee.

I mentioned the dining cars. By dining cars, I do not mean the ones they have in other trains. Those cafeteria-like ones are already a replacement. Before that, the trains had real restaurants, with tables, tablecloths, waiters, guests, and actual food. They were social spaces for chatting, connecting, and perhaps sharing a table with a stranger. That is not the case anymore. There are hardly any spaces left where one is invited to slow down and be present instead of being efficient and fast. Can you think of a space where you are welcome and actually want to spend time in, that is not your home, not your work or university? The disappearance of public parks, libraries, or local businesses means the disappearance of spaces for possible social connection. What we are left with are snack-machine-carriages, which are almost as antisocial as it gets.

The whole train ride reflects the disappearance of social spaces. You could travel the whole route from Salzburg to Vienna without talking to a single soul. You can buy a ticket and reserve a seat online, check in on the train through your phone, and the food and drinks are in machines. It is all highly efficient. Although I am deeply grateful for Austria's public transport system, the experience feels strange. I do not have to talk to anyone; actually, it is more normal not to talk to anyone.

Everyone has headphones on, and nobody says "Hello" or "Goodbye" to the person sitting next to them. It is more normal to stay in one's world than to go into the snack-machine- carriage, expecting some kind of space for social interactions.

As I sit here in the corner of the snack-machine-carriage, I realize that even though I am surrounded by people, I am isolated, as if the public in public transport had disappeared. Although that is not true, since I am part of that public. If I am part of that public, is this isolation self-inflicted to some extent? I am wearing headphones in front of a screen anyway. Actually, I am in front of two screens, writing on my laptop and checking my phone after every paragraph to see if something new has happened. Usually, it is just a reel that was sent to me.

I could be asking the elderly lady sitting next to me whether she is going all the way to Vienna as well. Maybe the next source of dopamine should be a conversation like that. Paradoxically, this feeling of isolation does not only come from the change in social spaces, but it gets mixed with another feeling: being overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the emails your university or work sent you, TikToks your friends share, advertisements you get, headlines you read, either on your phone, on the screens in the trams, or in a newspaper. The entire world is connected, which has made us drift apart even further. The spaces that invited us to be social and connect are disappearing, leaving us alone in the storm of information.

But escaping the storm of information is not enough. Once we get out of this storm, the true problem is revealed. Leaving the storm behind shows us why we run into the storm rather than being with our own thoughts, why we seek shelter in reels rather than having a conversation. The issue is that we have forgotten how to be bored. This is what we need to re-learn: boredom. We need to embrace and be present in the silence that creates space for others, for new connections, and our thoughts. Especially now, while the spaces that once welcomed us to be present slowly disappear. That is how we can find a fresh breeze again, a Kereszthuzat. The shift we need is presence in the moment.

The announcement just said that we will be arriving in Vienna soon. I will pack up in a minute, and though I could not bring myself to ask where she is headed, I will at least say "Goodbye" to the woman sitting next to me.