Categories: germany, postcards
Date: 30 October 2007 22:11:47
In the old days (1983/84), I used to get the boat train from London Victoria at 09:00. I would hop off and take the ferry across the Channel from Dover to Ostend (Belgium), board another train and this would trundle along calling at lots of places but the only ones I remember with any certainty are Brussels, Cologne and then Frankfurt/Main by 21:00. I would arrive in Vienna, bleary-eyed, at 09:00 the following day. Every time we crossed a border, all passengers had to present their passports. How times have changed. On this occasion, the crossing of a border was marked by a text message arriving from the local telecoms provider announcing that I was now part of its network.
In the old days, I just took my chances and slummed it in an ordinary carriage with seats. This time I booked a cosy little sleeper cabin from Brussels to Hannover - the lower bunk was already occupied by a woman who was clearly heralding her arrival at her destination by snoring loudly, very loudly, all night. The friendly conductor said he would bring breakfast for me the next morning. About an hour before my alarm was due to go off, another alarm rang...and rang...and rang. After some time the alarm stopped ringing so with a sigh of relief, I turned over and tried to doze off again. My efforts were thwarted because about five minutes later, the alarm started off again. I asked my Kameradin in my politest German if she would like to turn off her alarm. She said, “No.”
NO??!! Whaddya mean, NO?? Just how long are you planning for us to have to listen to that infernal row....I thought..... She then indicated that the button to turn it off was nearest my bed. Whoops. Clang. So I turned it off. Peace reigned. About 15 minutes later, the conductor knocked on the door and told me he'd called me, I'd acknowledged by turning off the alarm and now I had to get off the train because we were approaching Hannover. I looked at my clock and said I didn't need to get off for another hour. But whoops and clang again!!! I'd forgotten to move the clock forward by an hour when we crossed the Channel. I had to clamber down from my lofty perch (down a ladder which seemed to lean in the wrong direction), get dressed and get my stuff together in double-quick time. Frau Snorer (who turned out to be Ukrainian) then told me about the washing facilities in the cabin - so I quickly splashed my face and hauled my luggage out into the corridor and onto the platform. The conductor handed me my breakfast in a little bag and off he and the Ukrainian chugged in the dark towards Berlin.
As I sat on Hannover station, drinking my strong, milkless coffee, I reflected on how thrilling it was to lie in a train cabin, racing across Europe in the night, through unknown towns and cities. I thought of the train driver - what did he think about as he took his passengers to their destinations night after night; of the conductor - waking people up at the right time for them to have a bite to eat; of the other passengers all getting nearer their destination, having a bit of a kip along the way. In the old days, all the train doors would slam one by one as they were opened and closed, so you always knew you'd arrived at another station, even if you had no idea which one. These days, all you know is that the train has slowed and stopped. The doors open and close silently, so it should be possible to sleep through (if you are not sharing your space with the snoring Ukrainian). In a funny way, the whole experience reminded me of “Murder on the Orient Express”. Of course, there wasn't a murder, and it wasn't the Orient Express but something about travelling through the dark in a train in a cabin seemed to be very evocative of pre-War Europe and that story.