I’m back! Writing to you on board the London/Paris Eurostar channel train. Please forgive the long delay. Travelling with five people is quite different than travelling with two. Various responsibilities have required my full attention. I have been stressed and don’t have a lot of time to myself. Hopefully I will remember the most interesting points from the last two weeks in order to bring everyone up-to-date. This morning is certainly an exciting way to re-start my blog. I will catch up on the other days as soon as John and I make our way back to Vienna, and the boys head back to Canada.
I have learned to take life as it comes, and to remember the importance of having a good sense of humour. It seems that every rail trip we take is full of adventure. On arrival at the main London train station, Larisa discovers that she has left her tickets at the hotel. She and John (Sterling) catch a taxi back to the hotel and re-join us about 20 minutes later. Good thing we were early. Next hurdle…greetings from the friendly French border security official. Everyone makes it through fine except my husband. No surprises there. …He is carrying the biggest bag…. He tends to put electronics into the clothes suitcase, vs. just keeping all the electronics together…. AND He also failed to shave! But does he listen to me about such matters? Noooo!!… That must be it! He is looking scruffy! He has been labelled as an undesireable/scruffy North American. So now what?….The first formality: “Allo! Vee vill neeeed to do a complete serrrrsh on yourrrr baaag. You dewn’t miiiiind DO you????” “…….. uh, Noooooo…..” states John obediantly. I promptly step up to his “aid” by announcing that perhaps I should be present, since I am the one who packed the bag…Aren’t I nice?….I ask the gentleman if perhaps I could speed things up if he tells me what exactly he is looking for. …At this point John gives me his DON’T SAY ANOTHER WORD look. The official emphatically tells us NOT to touch the bag. I shut up immediately and bite my tongue. I am assured that my bag will be neatly re-packed. Words of consolation that ” I am zee best at zeeesssss!” doesn’t do much for me. The guard takes out each item individually, feels/strokes it and when re-packing, feels everything with feeling yet one more time. (He IS French, after-all). “Nice jacket” says he. “Thank you” say I. SIGH!…Our train is due to leave at 11:30. At 11:15 the nice man is only half finished re-packing. He does like some of my dresses, though. His superior speaks to him in some African language I don’t understand. Our guard informs us that he is going to be in trouble. “GOOD THING!” think I. This doesn’t make him move any faster though. Steam begins to vent from my ears and nostrils. I am furious! What if we miss yet another Eurostar due to no fault of our own? John nudges me occasionally and says, “we have plenty of time.” Yeah, right! Good thing we were 45 minutes early. It actually took the official that long to do the search! He also checked for chemicals. At 11:23 he finally finished and announced that we may go through the first-class doors through customs to speed things up. Unfortunately we have also had bad experienced with pass control people on this trip as well. Who knows what will happen there. I didn’t bother to say goodbye.
We literally had to run in order to catch our train!..But wait…there are now five people in our group…where is Larisa? Sterling informs us that she went to the store to buy a few souvenirs….Huh?????? Did I hear right? Are they TRYING to make me have a nervous break-down? “GO GET HER !” I command. (In Larisa’s defence, Romanian trains, as we know, run late.) However this train runs on time! Our two love-birds appear and we make a record-breaking Olympic sprint up the stairs of the train as the doors shut behind us. Now we travel on to the Paris train station where John and I had so much fun once before…NOT! Hopefully John and Larisa will catch their connecting train to Romania. Hopefully we will catch ours to Germany.
…..two hours later….
WHY WE HATE THE PARIS TRAIN STATION and …WHY YOU SHOULD AVOID THE PARIS NORD AND PARIS EST TRAIN STATIONS AT ALL COSTS
1. We are greeted by armed military personelle with sub machine guns. Their facial expressions are intended to intimidate. They are doing a good job.
2. The lady at the information kiosk informs me that the way to the Paris East train station is right behind her kiosk. Down the escalator. We need to take the #5 subway from Paris North to Paris East….We go to the escalator only to find that it is broken and cordoned off. It is too late to go back and ask the lady for further information. There is a long line-up now.
3. We find a map of the train station, and look for another escalator. Find one. Go there. It is broken and cordoned off.
4. We locate some stairs. Passing a group of people with baggage sticking out into the walking aisle, my ankle comes across a sharp edge. I receive a nice gash in my ankle. Go down the stairs with one bleeding ankle and several heavy suitcases.
5. We find the ticket machines. John sticks in his Visa card. It is denied. John sticks in his other Visa card. It is denied. John attempts to stick in a 5 Euro bill. The machine is not accepting bills at this time. My son goes to the nearest food counter to ask for change. This request is refused. No further assistance is offered. I march up to the same lady and ask why she is denying my son this request. Apparently people are always coming up to her and asking for change. Another lady standing nearby offers help in telling me where the change machine is. Now…why didn’t the other lady offer assistance by way of this simple gesture? It is not in her job description, I guess.
6. I go to find the change machines. They are in the bathroom. Now why didn’t I think of that? It is necessary to put 1 Euro in the doors to use the bathroom. If they didn’t have the change machines there, the train station would experience a major loss in income.
7. I return to our group. I am waiting for John to get the tickets. A man comes up and pokes me in the breast. He says nothing, but points at the store behind me. I am stunned. He pokes me in the breast again. I back up, stilled stunned. He pokes me a third time. I KID YOU NOT! He says nothing. Is he mute? Is he part of a gang intending to distract us while they make a fast get-away with our suitcases? If that is the case…Good luck!!! He must be mentally handicapped; perhaps he is on drugs. I look closer. No, I don’t think so. My husband is transfixed. I am mortified, totally perplexed. I am also apparently left to my own devices!!! As my molester ascends the escalator, I am jolted back into reality. My voice returns. I ask in French if he has a question, or comment. I only hear something about the store behind me (a children’s store), and the word “small”. I am more confused than ever. Perhaps my jacket is too short? But that’s the style right now. Besides, why should he care? Perhaps he is Muslim, and doesn’t like that fact that I have cleavage showing. Do I look Muslim?? Are my breasts too small? I don’t know. In any case, he apparently didn’t like what I was wearing. My family tells me I looked fine. (My son’s tend to be very honest when it comes to such things..even when I don’t ask for their opinion.) Larisa says I looked fine. Bizarre! Tres bizarre!…When John decides to rejoin us back on earth, he informs me that he has read about Islam fundamentalists in Europe approaching women, and forcing their views on them. Apparently I am one such statistic. All I can say is WOW! “NOT how to win friends and influence people”! How totally disrespectful! I should have slapped the man! In fact, this encounter is certainly on video, and the more I think of it, should probably be reported! Maybe our French friend Alain has some advice for me?
8. Hudson returns from the bathroom to say the attendant charged him 1 Euro and 60 cents to use the toilets. The cost is actually 60 cents. Hudson had put 60 cents into the turnstile, gone through, and was called back by the attendant. When he went back out the turnstile, it locked. The man made him go through the gate, and took another Euro. Didn’t give Hudson any change. “Lets take advantage of the tourist” mentality. At least his dishonesty is now public knowledge, and will hopefully serve to warn others.
9. We attempt to exit the main station to reach our next track. The gate intended for people with luggage is not manned. I press a button for assistance, and hope it works. A man answers. Tells us to punch our tickets, and he will open the gate. The machine eats my ticket. This results in the gate not closing properly behind me. Now everyone that follows will get in free. Oh well…what’s another broken machine.
Note: We have discovered from experience that walking 800 meters between Paris North and Paris East stations via the street is more efficient. As long as you procure a map that shows how to do that. Don’t expect to find any directions outside the station. Unless you happen upon an approachable Parisian. This is totally unlike tourist-friendly London which has signage showing significant buildings/points of interest, buses, and underground subway entrances.
10. Paris East station map indicates that there are two sit-down restaurants located within the station. It fails to mention that the first place isn’t there anymore. It has been replaced with a book store. The second place has been replaced with a self serve food court. We only discovered this after walking from one end of the building to the other. After buying a few things, John asks for change (in the way of coins). He is told to go to the machine downstairs!! There is no machine below us.
It is necessary to get change from the ladies responsible for the rest room.
11. The timetable indicates our train will be leaving from track 27. 15 minutes before departure, the monitors say nothing. 12 minutes before departure, we find out the train will instead be leaving from track 6 !!!
We arrive in Dreieichenhain in Germany at 10:00 p.m. Katharina Shaeffer gives us a warm welcome. Everyone gets a much-needed hug! This is a good friend whom we have known since living in California 13 years ago. Much has changed in the lives of both families. There is a lot of catching-up to do. Katharina’s apartment is less than a five minute walk from the train station. We are happy to hear this. We freshen up, satisfy our bodies with home-made French onion soup, sandwiches and wine, have a short visit, make plans for tomorrow, and head off to bed for a well-deserved sleep.
August 30.
Katharina and I rise early, and make our way to the baker for fresh buns while John and Hudson sleep in. Men don’t know what sensory delights they are missing. Perhaps European women keep these things quiet out of selfish reasons, as it tends to be only women who participate in this daily ritual. During our walk, Katharina and I speak of family, future plans, concerns, hopes and aspirations. Her dad is in the hospital. She has raised three wonderful children as a single mom since returning to Germany. She can be proud. She has recently moved and acquired a new job as the private secretary for a local Baron. Fascinating how she came to this position. In my opinion, it is a perfect job for her! She and another single gentleman will be in charge of the music programme for the up-coming wedding of mutual friends. Her anticipation of this event is evident. I look forward to hearing more. Katharina is deserving of a good man to become a part of her life. She is a good friend. An inspiration. We love her dearly. After breakfast, Katharina and I do laundry and then go to a local mall. I find a cute sun dress for 2 Euros, which will require a small alteration that Katharina is willing to do for me. We all go out for dinner together, and enjoy some local apple wine with some traditional German cuisine. We retire at 10:00 p.m. for an early start.
Sunday, August 31 Dreieichenhain to Lauterbach
This morning we were greeted in the kitchen with Katharina’s beautiful smile and the wonderful aroma of home-made apple cake baking in the oven. We went to church together. It is always a wonderful experience to worship with like-minded believers in another country. It is like visiting with distant family relations. A number of young people lead the service today. The speaker was a dynamic, well-spoken and intelligent man in his 20’s or early 30’s. It was refreshing, good for the soul and inspiring. The text from which the sermon was based is found in 2 Timothy 2:1,2. The theme for the month was on different forms of sharing: monetary, time and personal. Most people have difficulty with the latter. The pastor went on to provide examples of how individuals (including himself) have reaped benefits from being honest with those nearest to them. Dishonesty breads discontent and ultimately harms not only ourselves (in that the heart can become hardened), but our relationships with others as well. He spoke of how the bold/self confident apostle Paul encouraged the younger/shy Timothy to go forth in strength of spirit with God’s help. God has used seemingly insignificant men to work mighty miracles. Pride can get in the way with those who are over-confident. John and I were both presented with a coffee mug as visiting guests. We returned home to a light lunch, followed by a love song which Katharina sang to us in honour of our anniversary trip. She did the necessary alterations to my dress one hour before our departure. We left her apartment only minutes before our train arrived. My cousin’s husband Wolfgang picked us up in Lauterbach. The evening was spent eating, drinking and laughing with relatives that obviously love us. We love them too!
