A Train in the Ass

In the last six or so weeks I've caught about 14 intercity trains (mostly overnight), a couple of flights, had dozens of metro and taxi rides, and even an overnight ship voyage.

All of them have pretty much run as smooth as clockwork. I'm *ahem* not normally known for my punctuality, yet somehow I've managed to get myself on board on time every single time. Despite ridiculously cold temperatures, thick snow, and a reputation for dodginess, the trains in Russia always ran on time and there was never a single hiccup. China was even more efficient, Mongolia was no problem, in Vietnam the luxuries were a bit rough round the edges but the logistics were faultless. And Finland and Germany were, as you'd expect, as precise and efficient as a Swiss watch. A quick change of trains in Amsterdam went as smooth as silk too.

But then in Brussels it was time to change trains and board my first French train. Everything went downhill from there...

I was supposed to catch a train from Brussels to Lyon and then after a 25 minute wait switch to another train bound for Toulouse.

I'd already been on two trains that day (Hanover to Amsterdam, then Amsterdam to Brussels), so everything had to go like clockwork in order to get to Toulouse that evening. So far so good. I had made it to Brussels on time.

But then the train to Lyon was 15 minutes late arriving. And then when we got on, it took another half hour before we left the station. I knew it would be tight, but the train from Hanover to Amsterdam managed to make up for 20 minutes of lost time during the trip, so it was still possible to make the connection in Lyon.

But then things just kept getting worse. We got delayed more and more, stopping longer at stations and sometimes just stopping completely in the middle of nowhere. By the time my connecting train in Lyon left, we were still two hours away with no idea how many more delays would occur.

Thankfully the train conductor was being as helpful as he could, and spoke very good English. He would have been very helpful, except he was being kept in the dark as much as the passengers. But he made a note of the passengers with connections and tried as best he could to sort something out for us and keep us all informed.

Eventually we were told NOT to get off at Lyon as planned, but instead to continue to Valence where a different train on its way from Paris would make an unscheduled stop to pick us up and take us to Toulouse. Great! That sounds like an excellent contingency plan.

So, I get off the train at the small station of Valence along with a dozen other passengers, and we go looking for someone to ask about this connection.

Well, firstly it seems not a single member of staff speaks a word of English. So I go hunting for a passenger who is also heading my way so I can just follow them around. It turns out there are four of us bound for to Toulouse, and one of them speaks excellent English. Thank you Mathilde, you are a lifesaver!

Eventually we managed to find the station master and to our surprise, he knew nothing of any connecting train or any special arrangements. He wasn't particularly sympathetic about anybody's situation, nor did he offer any help. One lady who was stranded and left to catch a very long and expensive taxi to her destination (as was explained to me later) was arguing that SNCF should pay for her taxi, and the station master was just telling her to stop complaining and go. She almost got into a fist fight with the him, but to my surprise instead of trying to diffuse the situation, the station master started shouting back and got up in her face, ready to have a go back! A security guard had to come and separate them.

Welcome to France.

Eventually we were loaded onto the next train to come by which happened to be bound for Montpellier, where at least some of the passengers were supposed to go. Nobody really trusted the Station Master's advice, and we knew it didn't really matter where this train was going, he just wanted us out of his hair. But that's all right, we wanted to get out out of there too. This would still be two hours from Toulouse, but at least we were getting closer. It was after 9pm by this time though, and it would be too late for us to get to Toulouse that day.

So we finally arrive at Montpellier, and thankfully the station master here was expecting us. For the four of us bound for Toulouse, we were given vouchers to stay in the hotel across the road from the station for the night and assured we would be taken to Toulouse the next day.

Luckily I didn't really have any plans for the next day, so what began as an annoying delay was beginning to turn into a little adventure that allowed me to spend an unexpected day in Montpellier. I didn't need to get to Toulouse until the following afternoon. I also found that being a spectator to all these goings-on was an interesting insight into the French problem-solving psyche. It seems that getting upset, yelling, and threatening employees might not solve any actual problems at hand, but it definitely makes the shouter feel better getting things off their chest. It didn't matter that I could only understand one word in ten. It didn't really matter if anyone could understand any of it.

So eventually the four of us all trundled our bags across the road and checked into our hotel, imaginatively called "l'Otel" which for the less worldly among us translates loosely as "The Hotel".

The staff had put about as much creativity into the decor of this hotel as they had it's name, but that didn't worry us. It was 11pm and we were all sick and tired of all the stress of dealing with trains and SNCF, but despite being weary, we were also still wide awake.

So I tried a trick I was shown by a Russian fireman on the trans-siberian railway. Here was my chance to do something in front of 3 strangers that I probably wouldn't do back in Australia. It's a pretty simple trick. It just involves pulling a hip flask of vodka and 4 shot glasses out of my bag and offering everyone a drink. But the trick is in the approach. You must be friendly and approachable, but you don't want to really give them a choice.

And so the night turned from total disaster into a great night of laughter, and four stranded travelers became friends, if only for a night.

Thanks to my Finnish and Estonian friends I was lucky to be carrying a fully-stocked bottle shop with me at the time, so we drank some Estonian Vanna Tallinn, some Finnish Salmaikki, and some good old Russian Vodka. These new French friends of mine probably thought I was an alcoholic, but who cares. Take that SNCF! It takes more than your incompetence to ruin our day. Epic win.

I slept in the next morning and checked out of the hotel around noon. Then spent a few hours wandering around Montpellier, grabbing some lunch at the christmas market and even looking at a very cool exhibition by the American photographer Ralph Eugene Meatyard.

Then I wandered back to the train station thinking the 2 minute job of organizing a replacement ticket for today should take no longer than 40 minutes (allowing for language barriers and miscellaneous holdups). But of course I was being too optimistic, and after 55 minutes of queuing and trying to explain things, I missed the train I was hoping to get. There was another (slower) train just 30 minutes later which I caught, but it was just enough to give SNCF the last laugh. Fail.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Montpellier, France

A Quick Impression of Hanover

After being so surprised at Rostock, I was curious whether other parts of Germany would impress me as much. Sadly this little sojourn through Germany is a very brief one as I head to France. But I do intend to come back and see more of it at some stage. Apart from some fantastic countryside and numerous cities like Hanover and Hamburg, I really can't wait to sink my teeth into Berlin.

So I left Rostock by train heading towards Hanover with a change in Hamburg. So many German cities have names that are so familiar to me, yet I know next to nothing about them.

My very brief glance at Hamburg through a train window was, I have to say, unimpressive. But I don't hold that against it. Sadly one of the downsides of train travel is that railway lines tends to pass through the less attractive parts of town. Graffitti-riddled industrial rail landscapes are the norm everywhere, not just Hamburg.

Intercity Rail is a fantastic way to see the countryside, but not a good way to see cities. I'll leave my first impression of Hamburg for a time when I can have a proper walk around town.

So on to Hanover. I'm spending two nights with my friend Uli and her partner Clemens. Uli is a friend I met through our common interest in Photography, and she also happens to love travel. Both her and Clemens are ridiculously smart when it comes to Bio-science stuff, but sadly the closest I come to understanding Biology is to know how computer viruses are made. Not really the same thing. But none of that matters. What does matter is that they are both wonderful people and I am so grateful for them letting me stay, and for their company.

I really hope we get to catch up again before I head back to Australia, and this time I'll try to time it better with your work.

Hanover itself is fascinating, although I really only had a brief time to explore.
One thing I had noticed through Mongolia, Russia, and Finland was that the kids I saw didn't really play much in the snow. I saw the occasional kid with a sled, but hardly any snowmen and I hadn't seen evidence of a single snow fight at all! Even the parked cars all covered in snow were left unmolested by kids who might otherwise be drawing or writing snow graffiti. I could barely resist the temptation to draw a giant smiley face on every snow-covered windscreen I walked past, how did these mischievous kids hold back their urges? It seemed unnatural. I guess they get so much snow that there's no novelty factor to it.

But things were very different in Hanover. My walk to the lake must have taken me along a busy school route because there were school kids everywhere.. And snow fights everywhere too. The evidence of splattered snowballs littered the pavement, and every convenient flat surface within reach that was once covered by fresh snow had been pillaged for ammo. This went on for a couple of kilometers. It seems these mobile snow fights would last the entire trip to and from school. That's more like it. Kids being kids. Wreaking havoc.

There is a beautiful artificial lake not far from Uli and Clemens' house called Maschsee lake that is completely frozen over at the moment, but looks like it would be a hub of activity during summer. Apparently it was built in 1936 by "unemployed laborers" who weren't really given much choice in the matter by the government, but I don't know the full story.. Just that there *is* a story to it.

I was told to walk along the length of Maschsee lake until I got to the town hall which was apparently worth a look. Pfft.. A town hall? We have them everywhere in Australia. What's so impressive about that?

Well, when I got there I found out exactly what they meant. Calling this building a town hall is like calling the Titanic just another ferry, or The Beatles just another boy band. As impressive as the building was itself, the grounds were equally impressive and looked beautiful with their frozen ponds and snow-covered lawns.

I continued wandering through the city, and soon found Hanover's Christmas markets. I'm so used to seeing Christmas decorations and fake snow in Australia, it somehow seems strange to see real snow on real pine trees in front of real old stone buildings. All my life I kind of grew up thinking a white Christmas like this was about as real as Santa Claus, and here it is right in front of me.

And the architecture! It's so German! I was expecting a few distinctly German buildings, but nowhere near this many. It's fantastic to see the character of cities change so much in such small distances between countries.

And All the people I've met along the way have been very warm and friendly and up for a laugh. Not in the same way as in Finland though. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I think I just connected slightly better with the Germans I met. It's as if I "get" how their social interactions work in a way that baffled me a bit in Finland. While the "slightly cold and clinical" German stereotype was well and truly busted for me, their reputation for efficiency was reinforced. The train stations were well laid out and everything ran mostly on time. One of my trains (the first leg of a trip requiring 4 connections and passing through 4 different countries in a single day) was delayed by 20 minutes due to "a fire" (which one of my fellow passengers told me probably meant a suicide).

I also stumbled across a very old church right in the middle of town that had been gutted and left as a ruin. All the exterior walls were left standing, but there was no roof or interior at all. Just a cross and a plaque on the ground in the snow with the words "unseren toten" written on it. It was obviously left this way as some kind of war memorial, and it's effect was really moving. I had to consult Professor Google when I got home to discover it's history and significance. As it turns out, this site called Aegidienkirche is a 10th century church bombed by the allies during WW2 that was left as-is as a memorial for 90% of the city centre that was destroyed by bombing. The plaque on the ground translates simply to "Our Dead".

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Hanover, Germany

Rostock Christmas Festival

The more I travel the more I realise just how little I know of the world.

Many of the places I've been and will be going to have been just dots on a map, no different than any of the other dots around the globe. Even the satellite imagery of Google Earth can't really provide any real measure of what to expect before setting foot on the ground.

My time in some places I was excited about visiting has been disappointing, while other places, like Rostock where I really wasn't expecting much, have turned into highlights.

There is only one reason I visited Rostock. It's because the ship I took from Finland to Germany brought me here. I liked the idea of a German coastal town, so I thought I'd stay for a couple of nights and check the place out.

I booked a hotel the night before I left Helsinki. It was a good rate, good location, had good internet, and 24-hour check-in, meeting all my requirements.

As it turned out, this hotel and the room I got have by far been the best of this trip. The room was massive, looked great, and was directly above the market square which at this time of year plays host to the Christmas markets. So when I awoke the next morning I looked out and saw Christmas stalls full of people, decorations, food, carousels, and a busy crowd below me. I could not have chosen a better location if I grew up in the town and knew every street.

So I just spent the next day and a half wandering around. The Christmas market was huge and engulfed many blocks beyond the view from my window. And when I walked down to the docks, the view across the river was stunning.

I imagine Rostock is pretty quiet for most of the year, but I would definitely recommend a visit during December when their Christmas festival is running. I've seen a number of Christmas markets in bigger cities (Hanover, Helsinki, Toulouse, Paris) and the Rostock festivities were my clear favorites. It was as if the whole town was on holiday.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Rostock, Germany

Crossing the Baltic Sea

I've done most of my journey so far by train and loved every minute of it. But trains aren't the only way to travel. I'm heading to Germany and it's time for something different.

So here I find myself aboard the Superfast VII overnight ferry from Helsinki in Finland to Rostock in Germany, a journey that runs most of the length of the Baltic Sea.

And I'm loving it! All the things that make rail travel so enjoyable are also here on the ship (meeting interesting people, watching the world go by, super relaxing), with the added bonuses of having heaps of room to walk around in and a really good restaurant. I wish it were a longer voyage than just one night.

The ship is a huge ice-breaker ferry that seems to carry a lot of freight trucks between Finland and Germany, but also caters for private vehicles and foot passengers like myself. But being winter, there aren't many passengers on board and the lounges and restaurants are pretty empty. However the people who are here have plenty of time to chat and are very interestiInter for some reason though are hardly any kids on the ship, and also hardly any women. Out of the 40-odd passengers floating around, there are probably only 5 women and 4 kids.

I'm sharing a 4-berth cabin with 2 other guys. A very talkative Estonian guy in his 50's called Ian, and an awesomely friendly Finn guy in his 30's called Mikko.

Initially, Ian took me under his wing and was very keen to discuss all things Estonian, European, and Australian. But mainly Estonian. His English was very good but his accent still made some words difficult to understand. I thought it was quite funny that he was giving me grief about my Australian accent.

Sadly though what began as a very interesting two-way conversation slowly turned into a lecture seemingly for him to feed some inferiority complex he had about Estonia towards the west. I'm happy for people to love their homeland and be passionate about it. That's great. I've had many conversations with such people through Vietnam, China and Russia and loved them all. I've been really lucky with the people I've spoken with. But sadly by the second day, Ian was just being a dick.

I explained that the reason we didn't learn about Estonia in school was because it was part of the former USSR and when I went to school (during the cold war) everything behind the "Iron Curtain" wasn't really talked about in Australia except in the context of World War 3. This was seemingly proof that our entire education system was totally dysfunctional (which may be true, but has nothing to do with the Cold War or our Estonian school curriculum). Meanwhile his encyclopedic knowledge of Australia included impressing me with such pearls of wisdom as knowing that Rip Curl jeans came from Australia. He even came up to me in the bar while I was enjoying a nice quiet game of Black Ops and forced me quit the game, open a web browser and google "Estonia". He told me my homework was to learn about his country. Dude, WTF. I'm 38 years old, and on holiday. I've got a better idea. Why don't you Google "pretentious tool" and see if your photo comes up? Those baddies in Black Ops weren't going to shoot themselves you know. I've got work to do that's far more important.???

Mikko

There is one thing I'm grateful to Ian for though; introducing me to the Estonian liqueur "Vana Tallinn". That stuff is delicious!

?????????Mikko on the other hand was pretty quiet to begin with, but slowly opened up during the voyage to Germany. By the end we were having a ball, and we ended up facebook friends - perhaps the benchmark of friendship. (Hi Mikko if you're reading this!). Although I had some trouble connecting with some Finnish folk while in Helsinki, I had no problems with Mikko. He's just an uncomplicated, down-to-earth, genuine, friendly guy. I've got all the time in the world for him.

He also introduced me to the Finnish drink Salmiakki, a salty liquorice alcoholic drink best served ice-cold.  I was a skeptic at first because I'm not a huge fan of liquorice, but absolutely love it now.  Mikko was generous enough to buy me a bottle to take with me when I leave the ship. What a champ!

And finally, there's Lance. He's a 40 year old American bunked up in the cabin next door, and he's a fascinating character. A quiet, softly-spoken guy with a profound air of sadness about him, but not in a self-pity kind of way. Not at all the stereotypical American. He's not looking for sympathy, but he is definitely searching for something in life which he hasn't found yet. He kind of reminds me a bit of Toby's character from the US version of The Office, but with more depth and a much more interesting backstory.

Originally from Indiana, Lance made his career as a professional poker player and moved to Europe to pursue his gambling over here. But he soon burned out and became disillusioned with that way of life, and I get the feeling he hasn't felt really settled since. That was 13 years ago. Since then he's lived in numerous European countries, but spent most of his time in Finland due to the fact he has a 12 year old son there.

He now makes his living coaching basketball to Finnish high-school kids, and while he seems to get great satisfaction from seeing these kids improve, I get the impression that coaching isn't his true calling in life.

After a while, our discussions turned to the state of the world and he started talking about how man needs to reject *all* technology and return to manual farming methods for the survival of the planet, and he also started talking about the end of the world, armageddon-style. Right about this time I began to really wonder about his life and the thoughts he had floating around his head. He really does seem lost in life.

I know I won't ever see Lance after I get off this ship, but I get the feeling he's one person I'll look back and wonder what happened to. He's such a good natured guy, he deserves to be happy.

Location:The Baltic Sea

Landing on Planet Finland

"Did you know that the first Matrix was designed to be a perfect human world? Where none suffered, where everyone would be happy. It was a disaster. No one would accept the program. Entire crops were lost. Some believed we lacked the programming language to describe your perfect world. But I believe that, as a species, human beings define their reality through suffering and misery. The perfect world was a dream that your primitive cerebrum kept trying to wake up from."

- Agent Smith, Matrix, 1999

Here I am in Helsinki and I'm utterly confused.

Who kidnapped all the humans and replaced them with these replicants?  The inhabitants here all look human (copied from an attractive blonde-hair, blue-eyes template), and when they aren't speaking in their strange unearlthly native tongue they speak excellent English and sound human, but they can't possibly be human.  They're just too.... cheerful.

Honestly, it seems like every single inhabitant of Helsinki is pleased to just be alive and breathing.  They're pleased to meet me. Pleased to serve me. Pleased to help me. And just as pleased to do the same for everyone else.

It makes me want to wipe that cheerful smile off their collective faces, but I bet they'd happily offer to stand still while I hacked their heads off with an axe.  It's just not human to be happy about nothing.

They must be brainwashed, robots, aliens, or maybe something else.. Maybe I've entered the Matrix?

As an example, I tried to phone the Helsinki railway station to book a train ticket from Rostock to Hanover for after I arrived in Germany, but I accidently called the wrong number!

The lady who answered the call could have reacted in one of a few ways, but she didn't yell expletives at me and slam down the phone.  She didn't even dismiss me and hang up.  Instead, she politely apologised that she couldn't sell me any tickets because she had nothing to do with the railway, and then asked me who I was trying to call and cheerfully went and looked up the correct number in the phone book for me.  Amazing.  I still have no idea who I actually called, but I should have written down her number to use as my own personal directory assitance.

Oh, and it's damn cold here too.

But just like the Russians, the Finns don't let a few feet of snow stop them from doing anything.  It's business as usual here.  Everything is still open, and everything runs on time.  After all, it's only the very beginning of Winter.

Spend a few minutes in a taxi here and after getting a bit sideways around every corner or roundabout you'll understand why so many of the world's greatest rally drivers come from Finland.  Awesome.