Dinner and Drams
Michael and I spent our last evening aboard the Royal Scotsman at the gala dinner. Everyone dressed to the nines, the chefs served an exceptional meal, and we shared a table with two other couples. The conversation wandered easily between trains, World War II history, travel, and the experiences that had brought each of us here.
Dinner ended, and the evening flowed into the Observation Car, where a duet of fiddlers and drams of Scotch greeted us for the remainder of the evening.
And the Dancing Followed
When the final set ended, the fiddlers invited all of us who remained to come out onto the platform to learn a Scottish folk dance. It was cool, in the 50 degree range. The men were dressed in suits or kilts, handsome and almost stately. The ladies were wearing cocktail dresses, and every shape and size looked elegant and assured. Some ladies wrapped up in tartan colored blankets to warm themselves against the initial coolness. This added to the festive feel of the moment.
The fiddlers played while we stepped off the train onto the platform at Dundee Station. Then the lead fiddler, a petite woman whose voice echoed through the vast terminal, gave us the instructions for the first dance. It took several tries, but finally we accomplished it in almost rhythmic fashion.
Then came instructions for the second. The laughter increased while everyone tried to remember and count out new steps. It floated upwards to the rafters and was occasionally joined by the passing trains.
Once Strangers, Now Friends
The dances required us to move in circles, clockwise then switching counterclockwise and back again. As we learned to move together, the mood shifted too. What started as a group of strangers from different countries three days prior had transformed into friends who had spent an evening dancing together.
As the dancing slowed and then stopped, we all understood this experience on the Royal Scotsman was coming to an end. We also knew that most of these new friendships would end with the journey.
Auld Lang Syne
The fiddlers seemed to sense the change, and as the final dance ended, the lead fiddler spoke briefly about friendship. Some friendships last a lifetime, she said. Others are gifts for a season. We were encouraged to cross arms and join hands as she began playing Auld Lang Syne.
We finished with the chorus of the second verse. The applause faded, no one hurried away, and for a few quiet moments we simply stood together before climbing back aboard. The words of Auld Lang Syne ask whether old friendships should ever be forgotten. Ironically, we sang it just as those friendships were becoming memories.
What We Bring Back from Travels
When I travel, I don’t tend to collect things. I collect moments, paying attention to beauty, conversations, traditions, and people. That makes travel much richer, but it also means endings affect me deeply. Travel is not simply checking destinations off a list. It is living in the moment, learning about the people and places around me.
The encouraging part is that those relationships don’t disappear simply because the train moved on. They become part of who I am. I know I’ll remember the steward who anticipated what everyone on board needed, and always used our names without fail or mistake. I won’t forget the fellow passengers who became friends over dinner, the music, and the laughter on a Scottish platform.
The Memories that Last
The Royal Scotsman is a luxury train, a trip we both have looked forward to for months. The last night it became something entirely different. The finest memory wasn’t the wood paneling, the food, or the scenery. It was the people.
We may never see one another again, but for three days our lives genuinely intersected. Some friendships are meant to last decades. Others are meant to remind us that kindness still exists in the world, even if only for a few days. There is something quietly beautiful about that.
That is the part of the journey that will stay with me.
