I walked into Candás, found the railway station and bought a (very cheap) ticket for the surrealist trains. To my surprise there were other people waiting on the platform. Did they get on the train and then become invisible from the perspective of an outside observer?
All the passenger trains that I had seen from the campsite were, or appeared to be, devoid of human life. Even the driver was hidden from view. Now as I prepared to board the train I could see people on board. With the twenty who accompanied me there were few empty seats.
As we rumbled and lurched into the first tunnel the air of anxiety was tangible. The lights flickered and thoughts of other dimensions came unsolicited. Would the train emerge from the tunnel as empty of human forms as I had seen so many other trains from the campsite? We lurched and rumbled back into sunlight with little sign of relief on the faces around me.
Then I saw the campsite; a tent, a motorcycle that I could relate to. I did not feel totally reassured.
Another tunnel; another flash of light, this time with industrial structures in the background. The industrial complex began to displace the green and blue of Asturística. The train would stop and people would get on; a few got off. The stations had names like: Oxidible and Destruido.
The railway became more and more a part of the industrial scenario. From the campsite I had seen trains carrying industrial ugliness to the east and empty flatcars going west. I had speculated that the capitalists ran empty passenger trains as a front for some conspiracy to suck the soul from Galicia and transfer it, industrialised, to some secret destination.
Now I could see the industrial complex from the train. Old parts that had failed and died were interspersed with shiny new monstrosities. Occasional groups of figures gave a sense of perspective. Yet they could hardly be described as human as they seemed to have surrendered some essential facet of the human condition.
Louis Mair
August 2008
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