Prepare for a long blog, I’m gonna leave out pictures if I can help it, though maybe I’ll put them all in at the end for you if I have time. Today has been a long day, and I figure I’ll recount it along with some of my reflections as well. Yesterday was my only day of University classes all year; I went with my friend Rory to his French history class. It was fun because we all dressed up and made quite a scene (Halloween isn’t so big here). It was boring though because, well, it was boring.
I’m currently on the train between Munich and Passau (Germany), the last leg of 15 hours of travel for today. What a day it’s been too. Last night was a crazy Halloween party which didn’t end until after I had left. I didn’t get to bed until 12:30am, and wished I’d done so sooner. At 4:40am I got up, and made my way across a large park to the tram stop from which I would take the tram to the train station and catch my train at 5:58am.
Of course, it wouldn’t be one of my regular days of travel if things were as easy as all that, and naturally it turns out that today was a holiday in France. This meant that the first tram wouldn’t arrive until 6:07, 9 minutes later than my train was leaving. This left me with one option: walk.
So, not knowing Grenoble to save my life, I did. I checked the bus/tram routes on the maps at the stop, figured out the general direction, and headed off down the street. I asked a security guard if I was headed the right way and was assured by the drunk man standing next to him that I was in fact not. Thankfully the security guard called him an idiot and told me I was indeed on the correct path. I kept walking, checking on the maps at each stop to be sure that I was in fact advancing towards the station.
Finally I made it there with plenty of time to spare, and got ready to wait. It was at this time that I was approached by a beggar named Mike who asked if I spoke English. I did, and he asked if I had any coins for him. As ‘luck’ would have it, due to the trams not running, I had a Euro and thirty cents in my pocket which I figured was actually meant for him. When asked if I had just a little bit more I replied that I didn’t, and that he was lucky it was a holiday or I would have had no change at all.
We proceeded to talk for the next twenty minutes, and by “we” I really mean “he.” His accent was Irish due to his Irish mother but he assured me he was most certainly English. We talked, he told me stories of automatic tents and his friend in the hospital who he repeatedly told me he planned on visiting. “Because a friend’s a friend, and that’s what friends are for.” I couldn’t agree more, especially with the fact that he thought taking cigarettes to his friend might be a bad idea.
He planned on leaving Grenoble, though, and getting to Italy. I won’t tell you what words he used to describe Grenoble, but he didn’t seem fond of it. He bemoaned getting kicked off the train for not having a ticket, the reason for which he was in Grenoble, and I said that at least he had a jacket. Mine got left behind (for which I still think I’m an idiot). He offered me his, to which I replied that, as he had said, all he had otherwise was his T-shirt and that didn’t seem enough.
Eventually he was so determined to repay my generosity with a bit of his own that he bought me a hot chocolate. So my Euro returned to me in chocolate form, at least it won’t go towards his alcoholism, which he wasn’t shy to describe in full detail. The hand-motions and sound effects alone were worth remembering. We took some pictures together, he told me not to have sex with too many German girls (but in a slightly different way) and sent me on the way with many a pat on the back (and face) and plenty of shouted bits of advice as I walked away.
I got on the TGV, and slept. Arriving in Geneva I looked at my itinerary (scribbled on a piece of paper by the guy working the ticket counter in Grenoble) and tried to figure out where my train to Zurich would be. The nice part about the Eurail pass is that if you don’t need to reserve a seat you can just get on the train without a ticket; the downside is, I discovered, that sometimes French ticket salespeople would rather scribble out an itinerary than print it.
Thankfully I found the platform without much trouble and got on my train. As we sped away from Geneva I listened to the list of stops as they were recited by the conductor over the intercom, and realized to my increasing delight that Zurich was not in fact on the route. Checking my phone I realized that my train, which was supposed to leave at 8:46, had apparently left at 8:36. My mistake was suddenly revealed.
See, the problem is that I live in France. France, if you aren’t aware, is not renowned for its high levels of efficiency. This is because they don’t know what “efficiency” is unless you’re talking about finishing a bottle of wine or getting to the bottom of one's politics. Despite being a glaring generalization, this is generally true. The Swiss, however, are well known for their efficiency. I did not account for this unfortunately.
When I had gotten on my train, used to being able to board up to 20 minutes or more in advance, I had assumed the same would be true here. It was at my platform, it was as early as they ever are, it was going in the right direction. I hadn’t realized that the Swiss are efficient enough to run trains 10 minutes apart if they see fit, and thus I unwittingly and quite erringly stepped onto the wrong train and sped off in quite the wrong direction.
Asking the girl across from me various questions, I realized this with a growing sense of “aw crap” growing in my stomach. And so, I got up and got off that train and headed back to Geneva. This is the other benefit of my pass, I can just ride whatever train I want at no extra cost, t’is lovely.
Arriving in Geneva I found another train leaving for Zurich exactly an hour after the other one was supposed to. And thankfully, in the process, found a train going to Munich instead of Wels, Austria which cut my travel time by 2 hours and the cost by 95 Euros (which translates to around $140). I got on the train to Zurich, and sat down to read. Stealing a glance outside to lake Geneva on my right and endless vineyards on my left I decided that this was prettier country that I had seen so far.
A while into the ride a pretty girl dressed all in black with earbuds dangling around her neck came and asked if she could sit across from me. My own earbuds being in place and blasting music forced me to rely on the context of the situation, and so I motioned to the seat with a “bien sur” forgetting that I was traversing into German-speaking territory. This transition has proved difficult so far, my German is... oh how you say... rusty? But after a minute we caught each others’ eyes and, I’m not sure how exactly, began to talk. Of course we had to figure out in which language, I explained in German that my French was way better, and so we started speaking French (hers of course still outstripping mine shamelessly).
What followed was an experience unique to the Christian life. We started out on the usual subjects, who we were and where we were from, what we did and where we were going. But soon the conversation moved towards God. I think that the DeVinci Code came up, which started us talking about the need for truth, and how everyone is searching for it. Like I said, what occurred then was something that I love, we fenced with our minds.
That might sound weird, but it’s true. I would say it’s similar to when Serif fights Neo in the Matrix Reloaded (although a much less forced, and lower budget situation). Serif says that you don’t truly know someone until you fight them, and in the same way we sized each other up with our wits, seeing what each truly believed without asking outright or stating where we stood. Constantly (though with difficulty, because though my French is taking leaps and bounds I’m still lacking a lot of vocab) we approached the same plane, discussing things and refining each others’ arguments, recognizing belief for belief.
I don’t know if she viewed it the same way, but for me it was a Godsend. Over here I’ve been feeling more and more like a member of a dying breed, as though all sense has left mankind and I’m left standing in the midst of a complete lack of rationality. To sit and simply reason through life and the purposes therein with someone who had obviously thought it through, and had done so honestly, was refreshing. It was a blessing that is hard to describe without sounding weird to those of you who have no idea about what I’m talking, and corny to those of you who do.
All I know is that I saw a kindred spirit in a world filled with people opposed to our way of living, and it gave me hope. Not to say that I’m despairing, but it was reassuring and God timed it perfectly considering where my thoughts were taking me on the subject this morning. I had felt fairly alone for a while until that moment, and I’m grateful God saw fit in His divine way of knowing to provide that conversation for me.
We parted ways in Zurich, and from there I headed to Munich. In vain attempts I tried to get some free WiFi, but everywhere it was protected. I needed it because Anna and Bianca, friends in Passau, both think that I’m getting there at 11:30PM, and now I’m getting there two hours earlier. Giving up I got on the train to Munich and simply read the whole way. The countryside leaving the Swiss Alps and entering the German is absolutely breathtaking. I wish I could drive through and take the time to stop every fifty clicks or so. It’s amazingly green, and never the same twice.
The alps I’d seen around Grenoble, and managed to see through the haze all morning in Geneva and central Switzerland hadn’t won much of my attention. They were cool, but not much different than the Rockies back home (nor did they really compare to the might of the Rockies mind you). But when I started heading north, wow. They looked like a jagged, chipped and mangled razor blade. It seemed as though they formed great, impregnable walls that surrounded the countryside through which we traveled. They were distant, and yet ominous at the same time. I loved them. I want to get closer to them, to see them and study them and be inspired by them.
Needless to say, I couldn’t help but be put in regular states of awe at the countryside as we swept past. I wish I could have gotten out and taken pictures. I arrived in Munich, sleeping actually, and discovered that the station had changed a fair amount. Thankfully someone woke me up when we arrived, but I was quite disoriented when I got off. I didn’t really recognize things at first as it had been two years since I'd last been there, but as soon as I did I realized that things had changed.
The signage was all new, more high-tech and all around nicer. But something had changed for the worse... I was hoping to use the internet café that had been there years before to alert Anna and Bianca to my early arrival, but discovered that it had been replaced by a Burger King. This was oddly ironic as I hate Burger King, and haven’t seen one since I left America due to the fact that the French share my distaste for the 'king.' I knew I liked France for a reason. So yet again Burger King foiled my plans leaving me disgusted and dissatisfied, as usual.
Thankfully I found an internet café across the street, and I can only hope that Anna or Bianca have gotten my message. I bought a Kebap, which was yet again different than any I had eaten before, and got on the train a good 30 minutes early. It’s nice and warm in here, like Nice, not like freezing Grenoble/Geneva/Zurich/Munich and I assume Passau. I’m going to really be missing my jacket soon.
Now, however, the radiator by my foot is practically melting my shoe off. I could use a little cool air now, but I doubt anyone in here would appreciate me opening the window. Oh well. And my battery is going to die soon, so I suppose I’ll have to end this little (a.k.a. overly-long) blog. If you made it this far, congratulations.
On the tram to school
I made it! And only 15 hours of travel later!
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