Adventures in Europe - Part 5

Sunday

Banging on the door. Loud banging. And shouting. Lots of shouting. A big Russian man is in my room shouting at me. An angry Russian man.

“I CALL YOU NO ANSWER SHUTTLE IS READY TO GO PEOPLE ARE WAITING I CANNOT WAIT I GO NOW YOU CATCH NEXT SHUTTLE ONE HOUR!”

Moments later he’s gone and I’m sitting up in bed, gradually approaching consciousness and wondering if I have any chance of getting back to the world I know. Or if I’m destined to spend the rest of my life in this surreal, nether-world where everything is recognizable but nothing is familiar.

So, another hour until the shuttle swings back round, which might make things a bit tight for catching my train, but at least gives me long enough to experience the shower, which with its two settings (hot and very hot) made my ablutions more exciting than I normally prefer. I managed breakfast too; sitting all alone in a barn-like dining room, munching on what I’m going to believe was bread. A somewhat depressing experience, but nobody was shouting at me, so it’s all good.

Soon the hour was up and my scary Russian friend and I were heading back to the airport. He deposited me at the curb with a grunt of farewell and it was on to the next adventure. Finding the platform at which my train should be arriving any minute. I found the platform easily enough but given the events of the last 24-hours, I really wasn’t all that surprised to hear a loudspeaker announcement informing me that my train had been cancelled. Resignedly, I hauled my weary carcass back up the escalator and into the line for information. “No, your train isn’t cancelled!” exclaimed the clerk, “That was a different train. Hurry, it leaves soon.”

And leave soon it did. With me aboard. Out of breath and sweaty, but aboard. Maybe I’ll be home for Christmas after all.

The next few hours saw me take one of the smoothest and least stressful journeys of my life. I’ve always been a train geek. Not to the point of standing on windswept station platforms with a notebook, an anorak and a thermos, but I’ve always enjoyed reading about them, looking at photos of them and watching them as they go by. And traveling on them. Oh, I love traveling on them. Spending as I do, way too much of my life cramped in airplanes alongside, beefy businessmen, screaming children and grumpy flight-attendants, it’s a treat to travel in a comfortable seat, with a proper table in front of me and things to look at out the window. Ah, bliss.

Not that there was too much to see of course. The winter storm had hit Belgium and France just as hard as it had Holland and Britain, so visibility was reduced to a couple of hundred yards before the world disappeared behind a wall of white. Still, I had my book, I had my iPod and a bag of salt and vinegar crisps from the buffet. Travel doesn’t get much better.

The weather meant we couldn’t utilize the advertised “high-speed” aspect of the train and we were late into Brussels. But not late enough to matter. I had time for a very pleasant lunch before boarding another train for the next leg, through the Channel Tunnel and on to St. Pancras, London. Not only that, but we were only 1 hour late arriving there. I could get used to this.