This September marks the bicentennial of the modern railway. A lifelong train enthusiast reflects on the joys of traveling some of the world’s most scenic tracks.

Taking in the passing scenery from the observation car of the Eastern & Oriental Express; the Indian Pacific passing through the vast Nullarbor Plain on its transcontinental crossing of Australia. — *Left to right:* Taking in the passing scenery from the observation car of the *Eastern & Oriental Express*; the *Indian Pacific* passing through the vast Nullarbor Plain on its transcontinental crossing of Australia. (Photos: Christopher P. Hill (left); courtesy of Journey Beyond)

Two centuries ago in northeast England, a 40-kilometer journey revolutionized the way people traveled. It marked the debut of the world’s first steam-powered passenger train: a string of 33 open coal wagons—most occupied by paying customers—hauled by a puffing locomotive along the newly minted Stockton & Darlington Railway. With hundreds of enthusiastic people on board, the train rolled out of the village of Shildon on the morning of September 27, 1825, arriving at Stockton on the River Tees to much fanfare some five hours later. No one had witnessed anything like it before. “It was a very grand sight to see such a mass of people moving,” wrote one onlooker. Clacking along at an average speed of 13 kilometers an hour, the train could barely outpace a trotting horse. Yet its inaugural run is regarded as the birth of the modern railway—an event that set the world on a new track.

Throughout the 19th century, the expansion of rail networks transformed travel across Britain, mainland Europe, and other parts of the globe. The development of far-stretching lines made journeys that had previously taken days to complete more accessible and affordable. Cities became increasingly connected, economies expanded, and tourism flourished.

Since then, of course, the steam engine has been supplanted by diesel and electric locomotives, and flying has become the mode of choice for long-distance travel. But 200 years on from that momentous journey on the Stockton–Darlington line, trains remain, for me at least, the best (and potentially most sustainable) way to travel. There’s nothing quite like the sensation of slowly rocking your way through a country, especially for those who value the journey as much as the destination. As Paul Theroux wrote in his 1975 classic The Great Railway Bazaar, “Anything is possible on a train: a great meal, a binge, a visit from card players, an intrigue, a good night’s sleep, and strangers’ monologues framed like Russian short stories.”

Growing up in 1960s New South Wales, I became infatuated with train travel on my first rail trip: a three-hour run from Newcastle to Sydney aboard The Newcastle Flyer, the last express train in Australia to be worked by steam locomotives. Whether it was the hissing of the cylinders or the shrill of the steam whistle, I was hooked.

This developed into a lifelong affection in my school years, when I regularly commuted by steam or diesel train. Overseas trips followed, and it was only natural that I gravitated toward train travel. While I never quite became a trainspotter, lurking around rail platforms in an anorak and jotting down loco numbers in a notebook, trains have always appealed to me as the best way to journey through and between places. They’re more spacious than cars or coaches, more soulful than air travel. A good train ride provides opportunities for both conversation and quiet reflection, moving at a pace that lets your eyes linger on the passing landscapes.

This is perhaps particularly true in Europe, with its extensive passenger rail system and ever-changing scenery. I first traveled around the continent in 1979, at which point the Eurail Pass was already well-established, providing flexible access to trains in 16 countries. (Today it covers 33 countries). What wasn’t yet established was the European Union, meaning every time we crossed a border, immigration officials would thump on the door to inspect our passports. Also, night trains, which have been making a comeback in recent years after decades of decline, were then still a major part of the European travel landscape. Quite often I found myself in budget-friendly couchette compartments, shared with three other passengers. The frills were few, but nothing beat the thrill of going to sleep in one country and waking up in another.

These days, open windows are a rarity for safety reasons and because most trains have air-conditioning. But on my first Chinese rail adventure in the summer of 1987, the windows could be opened, and ceiling fans worked overtime to cool my sleeper carriage on the multiday journey from Guangzhou to Beijing. It was an enlightening trip. I managed to navigate the language barrier with my compartment mates, who generously shared their snacks with me. I was the only foreigner riding third class, also known as “hard class,” with wooden benches stacked three high. When it was time to alight from the train in Beijing, I was unsure whether I needed traditional acupuncture, total spinal realignment, a soothing massage, or all three.

An attendant next to the Eastern & Oriental Express at the railway station in Butterworth. — An attendant next to the Eastern & Oriental Express at Malaysia’s Butterworth railway station. (Photo: Christopher P. Hill)

More recently, I found myself on a train from Jodhpur to Jaisalmer. Not the fancy Palace on Wheels, mind you (India is no slouch when it comes to luxurious rail journeys), but a regular service that trundled me through the arid landscapes of western Rajasthan. I remember passing level crossings where carts loaded down with market produce waited patiently for the train to pass. I shared a compartment with a chatty young Indian woman who was on her way to her brother’s wedding in Pokhran. It wasn’t long before she invited me to the festivities. Sadly, I had to decline, but every so often, I reflect upon what may have come from accepting the invitation.

For travelers with more rarefied tastes, luxury rail excursions have seen a resurgence since the early 1980s, when the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express was launched as the spiritual successor to the original Orient Express, traversing continental Europe between Paris and Istanbul. Complete with restored vintage cars and gourmet meals, it’s part of a growing stable of opulent trains that parent company Belmond has designed to evoke the golden era of rail travel. Belmond also operates the Hiram Bingham from Cusco to Machu Picchu in the Peruvian Andes, and the just-launched Britannic Explorer in England and Wales. Closer to my home in Kuala Lumpur is the Eastern & Oriental Express, which rolls through Peninsular Malaysia. Over the years, I’ve traveled the same section of railway many times using the public systems, and have thoroughly enjoyed every minute. But the E&O is something else again. It’s the journey itself that is the reward, from the handsome wood-paneled cabins to the elegant meals and nightcaps in the piano bar car.

In Switzerland, the finest way to take in the Alps is from a seat on the Glacier Express. Connecting Zermatt and St. Moritz via Andermatt, the 290-kilometer trip takes eight hours from end to end, making this one of the world’s slowest “express” trains. But who wants to rush scenery like this? Panoramic windows enable uninterrupted views of forests and waterfalls, valleys and glaciers, rivers and lakes. It’s like watching the Discovery Channel on wheels.

Another iconic train that I’ve had the pleasure of being on is the Indian Pacific, whose monumental four-day journey—at 4,352 kilometers, a route second only in length to the Trans-Siberian Railway—traverses the breadth of southern Australia between Perth and Sydney. There’s perhaps no better way to appreciate the enormity of the continent, let alone the diversity of its landscapes, from the parched red expanse of the Nullarbor Plain to the eucalyptus-cloaked Blue Mountains. And it’s not just the daytime scenery that wows. During a stop one night at the outback town of Rawlinna, the skies above us were filled with more stars than I’d ever seen, before or since.

A bullet train on Japan’s Tokaido Shinkansen line races past Mount Fuji. (Photo: DoctorEgg/iStock)

Yet train travel isn’t just about passing through a landscape; it also affords a window into the idiosyncrasies of local life. Everywhere is different. In Japan, where train etiquette is scrupulously observed, you can partake in a tea ceremony aboard the ultra-luxe Seven Stars in Kyushu. On the humbler sleeper trains of the sprawling Indian Railways system, the cries of “Chai! Chai! Chai!” are likely to ring out as a chai wallah roams the carriages pouring tea from a metal urn for a few rupees a cup. And I’ve mingled with people from every walk of life on trains in Thailand—monks heading to monasteries, students on college breaks, city families traveling upcountry for holidays.

Vietnam is another great country for train travel. There’s just one main line: a 1,726-kilometer-long route linking Ho Chi Minh City in the south to Hanoi in the north, on tracks first laid down under French colonial rule and restored—along with 200 bridges, 500 culverts, 20 tunnels, and 150 stations—after the Vietnam War. But that takes in almost the full length of this skinny country, with stops at places like Nha Trang, Da Nang, and Hué making for some wonderful train-hopping. One might wax nostalgic about the old days of hard-seated, breeze-cooled Soviet-built carriages, but I prefer the more comfortable rolling stock of today’s Vietnam Railways. And there’s no better way to take in the great sweep of Central Vietnam’s coastal scenery than from a train window, banh mi in hand. You can even do so in high style aboard The Vietage, a luxury train carriage operated by the Anantara resort group that runs between Da Nang, Quy Nhon, and Nha Trang, complete with bar service and three-course meals.

Of course, even after two centuries, rail travel continues to evolve. Since Japan’s first bullet train shot across the tracks in 1964, high-speed rail has come a long way, especially in China, which today accounts for roughly 70 percent of the world’s high-speed tracks. Even Indonesia has one: Whoosh, an intercity service that covers the 142 kilometers between Jakarta and Bandung in about 50 minutes. But they’re too sleek and modern and, well, fast for my tastes; give me a conventional train any day. That said, I admit to looking forward to the opening of the much-delayed Bangkok–Nong Khai high-speed line, which, when completed by 2030, will link up with the Vientiane end of the Laos-China Railway and allow for almost uninterrupted travel between the Thai capital and Kunming—1,600 kilometers in less than 10 hours.

People often ask me what my favorite rail journey is. My short answer is: whatever train I’m on. Wherever I am, wherever I’m heading, when the whistle blows and the train eases out of the station, the very air in the carriage is charged with possibility. Time feels suspended. In a train, you’re between places, between moments—and that in-betweenness is always exhilarating.

David Bowden is the author of a series of rail travel books, including Great Railway Journeys in Asia.

Switzerland’s Glacier Express passing over the swooping Landwasser Viaduct near Filisur. (Photo: Olaf Protze/Alamy Stock Photo)

This article originally appeared in the August/September 2025 print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“Well Trained”). Buy a single issue or subscribe here.

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