Interrailing from above

Crossing the Apennines, snow is still visible on the higher peaks. Europe truly is our playground and, just like last night, I get that feeling of open-ended adventure: that somehow the story is far from over.

Yet, finishing the last pages of David Szalay’s Flesh, I am struck by an acute sense of physical vulnerability, a reminder of how quickly things can change, like when Anna fell on that cliff back in 2023. Though his life is so different from my own, following István around Europe has meant coming back to many places that I know, and to all their contingencies and memories. As much as I keep telling myself that I have more agency in my own life, the tiny and seemingly insignificant circumstances do have a tendency to add up over time. Looking down as we enter German airspace, I can almost see the trains criss-crossing below, like an Interrail pass holder still not knowing if the night will end in Brussels, Cologne or somewhere else entirely.