The next day was Han’s 60th birthday party. He, Doris and I, along with a group of neighbors from the building, had spent a couple hours the eveningbefore in putting up a ‘tent’ that they collectively own. Mostly plastic and poles, it offered shelter from the cool breeze, and for the party, there was turkey, salad, and all kinds of little goodies. I had purchased some non-alcoholic beer and sat with Hans, Doris and another couple, the man also named Hans. Hans #2 and his wife were retired and soon on their way to Canada for a 6 week vacation to visit their kids. The wife spoke decent English, so we chatted a bit about Vancouver and the area. Hans #2 knows only about eight words of English, and he half-jokingly said that he wanted English lessons when I return to Hannover.
Sunday, Hans #2 drove me in his beautiful BMW to the train station. We chatted on the way in German and his 8 words of English. Once at the station, I found the platform for the train that would take me to Berlin and then on to Brno, Czech Republic. IT was to be a long day.
Berlin’s main train station is impressive: several levels of shops, cafes, and of course train embarkation platforms. From here, one could go almost anywhere in Europe. I was lucky with my travel situation: of course I already could travel first class because the railpass is only for first class, but I had an entire cabin to myself—the type of little compartment that Americans see in the old movies. The day was partly cloudy for most of the next 5 hours, but I could stretch out along 3 seats and nap, sit and dream, and, as I did, go down to the diner car for some tea. The diner was one of the old Hungarian coaches, with red table cloths, and red walls. And one older waiter who spoke a bit of English. I wasn’t too hungry but ordered some tomato soup and hot tea, which set me back $7.50, a ridiculous price, of course. But it was cozy to sit and read the International Herald Tribune while sipping tea.
Back in my compartment, I waited for the arrival into Prague because I thought to snap a few pictures before the train went on. But the station was a minor one on the outskirts so there was nothingreally to take a pic of. At the same time, clouds gathered and I knew it was going to rain. But if that was an uncheerful thought, Michaela was just the opposite. This vivacious thin girl with dark hair, about 25, opened the door and asked if there was a free place. Since there were 5 free places, I ushered her in.
We chatted—that is, she chatted—most of the way but she was a fun type, so enthusiastic about life and of course her recent trip to India and Nepal. She was excited that I was more or less on my way and offered lots of advice. I did get a bit enthused listening to her talk about West Bengal and the high country where all the tea comes from. One can do treks, she explained, and she promised to email me some info. So, we whiled away the hours by chatting about the subcontinent and the oppressive heat of Rajasthan as the cold rain streaked across the window of our cabin. Nice, though.
At the grim-looking Brno train station, I waited for my friend Miroslav to show up; the train was a bit early though. If the day had been sunny, the station would have looked more appealing, as well as the city center right outside. But in the drizzle, the place had all the appearance of the soviet-style era. Ie. Grimy, dingy station with rather unkempt men (even families) hanging about. A couple bums with beers. Outside didn’t look much better. The place looked worn out, faded, and had that communist-era feel about it. But ofcourse the reality was rather different the next day in the sunshine. And Brno had done well since the fall of communism. Buildings had been renovated, painted. And up the street from the station, the place is one of the prettiest cities I’ve seen anywhere: grand baroque and neo-classical buildings, wide streets, new trams running, McDonalds (That hadn’t been around in 1995!). People were looking pretty well dressed, and shops were filled.
But back to the first evening. Miroslav led me around the city center for a bit until I said we ought to get back to his village because my back was killing me lugging what felt like a ton in my backpack. Getting to his place is always a long trip; first one must board a train to a certain town, then catch a bus to the village of Veverska bityska. It’s a a calm little village with a lovely old church, a bridge over a narrow muddy river, and trees everywhere. From the bus stop, we walked the quarter mile along the river to his place. The house dates back to the 30s and was actually built as a place for the German army; it is divided into 5 different ‘apartments’, one of which Miroslav lives in. I liked the hominess but it had all the roominess of living on a space shuttle. One had to maneuver carefully around the clutter of the narrow kitchen. The table and couners are filled with things: books, baskets of envelopes and photos, rocks, fruit, tea tins, a cooking pot, and various other items of life. He’d been cooking and the aroma of stew filled the air. The toilet, unfortunately, was outside the entrance to the flat, down a dingy corridor. Pretty basic.
We dragged a mini hidabed from a shed out back (gads, I thought). In the kitchen, Miroslav threw on a sheet and gave me a couple of blankets and a big pillow. So after a supper of stew (gulash actually) and veggie soup, I read a bit and slept soundly.
The next day was spent between Brno city center and a village called Bostavica. After running hither and thither seeing various old historical (and gorgeous) buildings and the wonderfully active Freedom Square, and visiting the interior of a cathedral (great gothic church), we had a coffee at a coffee shop that had free internet! Miraslav ran some errands while I logged on and did schoolwork and wrote emails. It felt so good to be back online; I really am an addict.
In the afternoon we took 2 trains and a bus to Bostavica. which oddly enough means something like ‘don’t walk barefoot in the something or other’. We stopped at a supermarket (what Europeans call a Supermarket and what to me seems a modest store) and got some goodies. Then in a delightful town square, we sat on a bench at ate. I enjoyed a strawberry pastry, diet coke, and a plain bread roll. Very tasty. Anyway, Bostavice is just a town but within it there is a chateau that looked to be a rather huge white marble mansion. The place had sweeping grounds and, predictably, a wrought iron fence and gate to protect it. Up the hill was a castle bu the place was locked up, it being a Monday, so we didn’t climb the hill. Thankfully. I’ve seen plenty of castles and didn’t fret much that I wasn’t able to see yet another. We did stroll through the old Jewish quarter, which had been home to Jews for centuries (well, kind of a ghetto, really) until the Nazis moved in. We stopped at an old pub and had some beer (non-alcoholic for me) and talked for a long time. The sun was approaching the horizon, the beer was tasty, and the place was as quiet as…well, a small town in the Czech countryside.
A second day without the Internet was hard emotionally, but the train ride through czech countryside in full sunlight was medicine for the soul. In the distance was a range of high hills (or very tiny mountains), all tree covered. Fields, farms, villages. The quintessential Europe. Mirak and I walked about another picturesque town—but two treats included an old cathedral now in ruins (no roof). One could imagine the activity here in the 14th Century when this village was at the height of its prosperity—until Hussites invaded and destroyed, which of course is most of Europe’s sad history. The second treat was a museum that contained 18 canvasses by the Czech master of the late 19th century, Alonsa Mucha. Each painting is nearly twelve feet in height, each a panoramic scene of some aspect of Slavic history. Invasions, king’s weddings, freeing of surfs, etc. The guy was apparently popular in the USA when he visited.
Today is Wednesday June 3rd. As I write this, I’m on an local train at some village called Vranovice. English doesn’t really exist in this place, and I’m here because some fool in Brno gave me the wrong platform to get on a train to head back to Miraslav’s village. I went by myself in the morning to do some work at the café with free wireless. After that and a McDonalds, I wandered the main streets a bit. Liberty Square in spacious and thriving—I love these colorful and new-looking five and six story buildings. Wandered a bit in the fruit and vegetable market, a large farmer’s market doing a bustling trade. Cool to think that it was likely just like this centuries ago. Anyway, then I bought my ticket and then went to the train platform. The sign indicated track one, and I double checked with an old Czech woman who said this would be the train for Kucim. Well, after 30 minutes I knew I was on the wrong train. So I got off at some remote little village surounded by green fields and not much else and had to buy a new ticket to take me BACK all the bloody way, at twice the price. So basically wasted a couple of bucks. If this were Amtrak, no biggie but no lounge, hardly anything except train cars with the seats that face each other, and for now, only about 3 passengers per car. Well, let’s see where this goes. J
I got back safely to Veverska Bityska. The following day was my last in the Czech Republic.
Went with my backpack to Brno (with Mirak, who had an appointment to go to). After managing to get some train information from a ticket agent who actually knew some English, and obtaining from her some change so that I could store my luggage, I stowed my backpack in a locker and had 5 hours free. Went to Panini Café to work on the Internet for like 3 hours; then wandered back into The cathedral and prayed a bit. Nice atmosphere there. Walked to a bistro and managed to order some potato salad, a banana, a piece of chicken and a coke. Ate standing at the one table, but it was good food.
I met Mirak at the appointed time and we took the tram to his last tutoring lesson (he tutors people in English). The student was a Czech man (obviously) in his 30’s, an accountant for a good firm, judging by the modernity of the offices. His English was at an intermediate level, but for the most part, Mirak guided him in questioning me about my life. Michael had a friendly outgoing disposition and we enjoyed our talk. I wrote down for him some websites that I thought he’d be able to use over the summer. Lastly in Brno, Mirak and I enjoyed a drink at a nice pub before returning to the Brno Train station, where I retrieved my backpack and we said our heartfelt goodbyes. Then—to the train.
I sat in a very plush first class open car and enjoyed the passing scenery. The last town in Czech was Breclav, and we after arriving in the station, we sat for a few minutes before there was an announcement about getting a bus to go on to Austria. This caused the dozen or so in first class to look up in consternation. I followed a young Austrian woman to the next car where she asked the café attendant, himself looking out an open window to the platfom below, what was going on. He shushed her, listening to someone outside the train. Then he turned and said to us: the train finished!
“Train Finished” is not my favorite phrase when there should be another hour of traveling. IN short order, we all got off the train, herded (more or less) to the front of this little country station. The sun was lowering towards the horizon and there was a lovely church across the parking lot. It would have been quite pleasant had the promised bus been standing there. But there was only a roly-poly little Czech man in a conductor’s uniform. In short order, he explained to a heavyset woman in her 40’s that the buses would come in 20 minutes.
The buses did NOT come in 20 minutes. Nor did they come after an hour. The Czechs were apparently blaming it on the Austrians and vice versa. The crowd at first just hung silently more or less, but after awhile, as happens, small bands came together. I chatted with a couple of gregarious African guys from Ghana. There was also a girl in her 20’s, quite pretty, whom I suspected was from Central Asia. There was also a hungarian man in his 40’s or 50’s with an Austrian woman, and he asked in decent English what was happening—at about the same time that the 4th report indicated that ‘the buses were on their way from Austria!” There was a young Czech guy, short with glasses who spoke decent English. HE said that the buses should have left Austria a half hour ago but it was uncertain as to whether or not they had. Two middle aged French women took this grimly, judging by their faces. The Hungarian and his Austrian lady friend talked of getting a taxi. Others in the group included a Japanese couple in thieir 60’s most likely and a couple of American girls, one tall blond and a bit heavyset who agreed that this wouldn’t have even happened on Amtrak. Sigh. One of the French women complained that she was hungry (for some reason she said his to one of the Africans). The African, in a humorous tone, said, “Okay, you go buy some food, and don’t worry, I will pay it.” We chuckled at that.
The young Czech in the glasses said to the Central Asian girl and I that no one really knew what was happening. She sighed and said, “So typical.”
Lo and behold: after another 20 minutes, the Czech conductor came around to report (in Czech of course) the latest news. The youngCzech guy with the glasses nodded and turned to a small group of us: “Okay, now in English”, with a grin. Several huddled closer. “The train line has been fixed, so now we can all go to platform 3 and catch the train 177 to Vienna.” With sighs and curses, people picked up their luggage and traipsed back through the station to the platform. I wound up sharing one compartment with the Central Asian girl. Her name was Sarkova, and she was from Uzbekistan. She had pretty features, and had been living and studying in Vienna for four years or so. We chatted, drank water, and waited for the train to move. In the next compartment was the American girl with her friends, and futher on down the Japanese group, and next to them the two African dudes, and next to them the Hungarian businessman and his Austrian lady friend. Everyone walked around a bit, up and down the corridor outside the compartments. The feeling seemed to be upbeat until there was an announcement that there would be an 80 minute delay. Sarkova said, “What a horrible day. Today, my brother had his bag stolen along with his computer, phone, passport and money.” As for me, I doubted I’d get to Bern Switzerland by noon tomorrow as I promised Felix to do. It’s a ten hour train ride from Vienna to Bern. Darn.
Just as the Hungarian guy came round to ask me if I wanted to join a contingent taking a taxi, there was news that the train would leave within ten minutes! Everyone returned to their compartments. Indeed, the train started moving and right now, it’s flowing through the utter black night towards, we presume, Vienna. Sarkova has stretched out to sleep and I will soon try torest my eyes.
Vienna! Very early Friday the 5th June:
After midnight the train approached Vienna—way to late to make my connection to Bern. Darn. But Sarkova was fretting about how to get from the South Train Station, where the train pull in, and the West Train Station, where she lived. “The trams have stopped running,” she explained. I, too, needed to get to the Westbahnhof. Fortunately, an efficienct Austrian conductor had boarded the inefficient Czech train and told Sarkova that the subway was still active. “Take the U1 to the U3,” he said in German, and then that will take you to the Westbahnhof.” Sure enough, it worked, and I even rode ‘black’, without paying since they are on the honor system and the controllers probably wouldn’t be working late at night. Once at the Westbahnhof, I said goodbye to Sarkova, who was off to her house and to try to call her brother, somewhere in Paris without computer or passport or money.
The train station was mostly empty, and under renovation so kind of creepy. Outside was still fairly buzzing with some traffic, broad avenues, buildings aglow with lighting. I checked the departure boards but nothing was going anywhere far. I was trapped until tomorrow. I saw on a dark billboard an advertisement for a hostel, and a young woman gazing at it. “Looks like the only place around here to sleep,” she said. We walked a block until we found it, checked in, and were assigned rooms. The front desk and lobby looked clean and efficient with free wireless, all kinds of travel information, some computers, and a young Austrian dude who was super kind and efficient. The long and short of it is that I went to the room, climbed to the upper bunk of a bed, and spread out the sheets rather haphazardly and slept fitflully for several hours. Thankfully, nobody snored.
IN the morning, breakfast was great: tea, coffee, cereals, breads, all kinds of toppings including jam, peanut butter (a surprise), nutella, cheeses, and of course yogurt. I enjoyed my fruhstuck and went out for a walk for a couple hours. I rode ‘black’ again to the Volkstheatre stop and got out. I walked through a park to the grand palaces of the Hapsburg Empire, and saw some excavated Roman ruins. Then on to St. Stephen’s Cathedral. Too bad I forgot my camera, but take my word for it, it’s a grand cathedral. Stay tuned for other cathedral pics. Anyway, after a bit more wandering I wound up back at the hostel, checked out and called Felix with Skype. He’ll be picking me up at the station tonight.
Right now, I’m on a 9-hour train ride to Bern. The Austrian landscape started with high forested hills but a few hours later the Alps are dominating. High, jagged and marvelous. I’m sitting in first class, laptop plugged in and listening to various movie soundtracks with my IPOD. So different from the train rides of 30 years ago.
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