What slow trains taught me about communication — and America
First: There are no boring people on Amtrak
He had a 130-acre dairy farm south of Utica, NY, and his wife had recently completed her fifth round of chemotherapy. They were returning from seeing a homeopathic physician, Dr. Clark, to supplement the chemotherapy treatments.
As Amtraks’ Southwest Chief meandered through Kansas, hours behind schedule, we discussed Amish methods of farming — no tractors, just horses — the volatile price of dairy, and the Amish Pennsylvania Dutch language.
I asked him to count to ten so that I could compare the Amish German with what little European German I knew.
Across from us, three Amish women played a board game called Triple Five.
I have seen Amish people on almost every long-distance Amtrak train I have traveled on, but I assumed that, being part of an insular culture, they would not want to talk to outsiders.
I am glad I took the time to prove myself wrong.
That may have been the first conversation I had with an Amish person, but it would not be the last.
Nearly a year later, aboard the northbound City of New Orleans, I struck up a conversation with another Amish man, also traveling for medical reasons: His granddaughter was receiving cancer care at St. Jude’s Hospital in Memphis. He and his wife had just spent a week visiting her and were returning home to Wisconsin.
The Amish did not participate in Social Security, he explained to me, because they believed in taking care of their elderly friends and family members themselves. This meant, however, that they also were not eligible for Medicaid. Without health insurance or millions of dollars in the bank, those with cancer have a difficult time finding treatment, and St. Jude’s provides it for free.
I told him about the conversation I had a year earlier, and he knew immediately that the couple had visited Dr. Clark.
I took the liberty to ask more questions:
Amish people would not have a smartphone, correct?
No — no mobile phones, no televisions, and almost no phones of any kind. Within their community, they have some shared “community phones” that they could access in an emergency, a few miles from his home.
Do Amish people vote?
Not in national elections, but some will vote in local elections. And many pray about elections.
Do any young people ever leave the Amish community?
Only a few, he said. And some leave and then decide they want to come back.
The tight-knit community was an important part of their lives, he said, adding that I would be surprised how quickly news can spread among a community without smartphones.
I believed it, and I told him about the landmark Harvard study that found that close relationships were the most important factors for health and longevity.
I told him that while I appreciated how the lack of a smartphone likely enables him to be fully present in every moment, I could not imagine functioning in this world without one.
He told me that while I probably loved my life and way of living, he, too, loved his.
I found both conversations fascinating, and I can’t think of a situation in my day-to-day life where I would have had them.
It’s not just the Amish people. On that same 2022 trip aboard the Southwest Chief, I also chatted with
- three young women from Durango, Mexico, who were currently living in a tiny town in southern New Mexico
- a student from Hong Kong currently living in Minneapolis
- a retiree from San Luis Obispo heading to a family event in Pittsburgh
- a couple from Italy visiting the United States for the first time — and doing so traveling by train for a solid month.
I loved learning about the places these people were from, what they did in life, and why they chose to ride one of America’s slowest forms of transportation.
Had this train been on time, it would have taken 45 hours to travel from Los Angeles to Chicago. Like most Amtrak trains, this one was delayed, primarily because a freight train ahead of us had struck a massive piece of metal, tying up the tracks for hours.
We pulled into Chicago four hours late, meaning that many of the Amish people missed their connection to Amtrak’s Capitol Limited.
Gianluca and Nicoletta, my new friends from Italy, barely made their connection, hopping off in Galesburg, Ill., to catch the California Zephyr back west.
A couple of weeks later, before they flew home from Italy, I took them to Coney Island to see their first-ever baseball game. As we ate hot dogs in the rain, I could tell Nicoletta was ready to say farewell to American food and have an Italian meal back home.
I have traveled more than 33,000 miles on Amtrak over the last 23 years, and in almost every train trip I have taken, conversations like these are the highlight of the trip.
I chatted recently with French author and professional train YouTuber Thibault Constant who told me he is an introvert, but as soon as he is on an American train, he loves going to the sightseer lounge and chatting with people:
“It’s funny because it’s only on Amtrak where I love to speak with people. It’s just that vibe where you’re like, it’s OK to speak with your neighbor and talk during two hours about life and stuff. It’s one of the rare places.
Amtrak is so social. It’s the most social train you can find.
I’ve been to many countries and I don’t think there’s any more social train.”
And that is exactly how I feel.
I am an introvert through and through.
But I absolutely love chatting with people in the Amtrak sightseer lounge — because everyone there has an interesting story to tell, stories that I would never otherwise hear in my day-to-day life.
I started listening to these stories 23 years ago while riding from Chicago to Los Angeles. And I keep coming back for more.
If you want to better get to know this country, take a long-distance Amtrak ride. You will be surprised by the people you meet.
If you enjoyed this story, check out my site, slowspeedrail.com, where I explore the social, environmental and psychological benefits of long-distance train travel.
