First train ride, Eurostar, London to Brussels

It's is a wonderful sensation, riding a train through the tunnel. A green light streaks by every few seconds, like a dashing goblin. The wind vibrates against the window, making a deep but shrill howl to the glass. And a deep bass plays, the sound of slick train on slick track. Aside from my dashing goblin, all is dark outside; the lights of the cabin work against seeing anything of the tunnel itself. Then, just like that, just when it seems like that howling wind will signify the end of all things, my ears pop a little against the pressure and the train bursts from the tunnel into blinding daylight and all is peacefully quiet.

Now you can see the countryside being passed along, moving both faster and slower than you'd expect. When another train comes by, it's a startling quick shriek, like a metallic gasp, and then it too is gone. Within moments, everything that had become familiar to me of London was gone and I was far to the south of the city. In the cabin itself, it's a fair mix between English and French, and I wonder what the difference is between the French of Belgium and that of Paris.