“As the years roll on,
After youth has gone,
You will remember Vienna!
Nights that were happy and hearts that were free,
All joined in singing a sweet melody . . .”
“You Will Remember Vienna,” by Oscar Hammerstein II and Sigmund Romberg
1) On a travel day, one of my limitations is just not being able to think about anything but the travel. That may be why I prefer to book my transport early in the morning. This time, my train didn’t depart until 6:30 PM — and I just didn’t have it in me to consider cramming one more museum or attraction or café into my time. So all I really did during the day was step out for my morning coffee and pastry, finish my packing (straining every seam of every bag), write, and watch Topsy-Turvy from 1999. After all, I was returning to London . . .
2) I figured out how to manage the subway with all my bags all the way back to the train station, but the key, it turned out, was not asking Gyygle how to get to the train station.
3) Wandering the station after getting a sandwich, I spotted the sign “Lounge.” Did I qualify with my ticket? Turns out I did, and I was able to get away from the mob for half an hour, and avoid the pay toilet.
4) The next time I come to Vienna I’m really going to have to study some German before I get there. I felt the lack several times, but especially in trying to figure out where my car and seat were on the train, only to find out that the train on the track was not the correct train, which would be arriving after this one left.
4a) That said, DB does not include carriage and seat numbers on their online tickets the way Eurostar does, and it’s a problem for more people than just me. I know, because several of us ended up in the same car, and we took the advice someone gave me en route to Vienna: just sit down until someone tells you to move.
4b) Auf wedersehn, Wien! I feel like I didn’t get to experience half your charms, but I hope to return.
Somewhere Austro-German.
5) The first leg of the trip was from Vienna to Munich, then Munich to Frankfurt, Frankfurt to Paris, and finalmente, Paris to London. A long overnight trip, 20 hours, but believe it or not, I wanted to do this. I just fancied it would be more direct . . .
5a) The attendant from Vienna to Munich served me an excellent schnitzel and was really plugging the white wine, but I knew it would be unwise to overindulge.
5b) Between Munich and Frankfurt — midnight to 4:40 AM — I really wanted to sleep. But the lights were kept determinedly bright, music would leak from people’s personal devices, and one couple behind me would occasionally burst out into German conversation with their Outside Voices.
Munich Station at 5:00 AM.
5c) I had an hour between trains in Munich, a very early-morning hour wandering this very large glass shed jeweled with brightly lit chain bakeries and peopled with tourists, homeless, and half a dozen burly polizei.
5d) Inexplicably, I caught a bit of a second wind between Munich and Paris, mustering enough energy to finish The Greedy Queen (quite interesting, actually) and make some notes for the final leg of my time abroad. The attendant brought me coffee, and then brought me coffee again later.
6) Now Paris . . . Paris was a mob scene. Getting from the Gare de l’Est to the Gare du Nord was not a problem. One takes an escalator to the second level for security for the trains to London. And when I got to the top of the escalator, I was, um, surprised that so many people had to fit into so small a space — and for a train earlier than mine that was supposed to be leaving in 45 minutes. Long story short, it was a cattle call, and it took forever.
6a) When one of those passport scanning machine thingies failed on me after two attempts, I was pulled aside to speak to the UK border control agent personally. But everything was handled courteously.
6b) Once I finally got through security, there was barely anyplace to move among all these shoals of travelers, all with large numbers of bags on wheels — just as I was. And it was especially tough noticing people having to negotiate all this in wheelchairs, with canes, with a knee scooter.
6c) What was announced was that a train had arrived late from London. What was on the email I got later announced “over-running maintenance work.” The result was that an extra train’s worth of passengers was crammed into the waiting rooms, and there was no place to sit.
6d) When my train was called, I was near the start of the group that would enter first, which began with a few people who had mobility issues. I was especially concerned for one elderly man with a cane, unsteady on his feet, traveling with a family group of five or six, and having to get on one of those escalator ramps. He managed it, but it was tense for a few moments.
7) My car was full, and shortly before we started, a Frenchman out of view behind a divider starting having a loud phone conversation in French. And then a second phone conversation. More people than just I noticed it, and I was naughtily considering calling out “Mais non, je t’entends bien!” when he finished his call.
7a) I made notes for my trip until I was served a lovely little lunch — some little bits of chicken in cous cous, a roll with butter, and a cube of something like strawberry cheesecake — and white wine, and then coffee. So of course it’s understandable that I might have slept soundly through most of this part of the trip.
8) The area in and around St. Pancras was just as crowded as the Gare du Nord, but the familiarity of the neighborhood felt so comfortable. Victor, my guy at the front desk, remembered me and upgraded me to a sunny room overlooking the front of the hotel. I promptly fell asleep for a few hours.
9) Tomorrow I collect my other suitcase and change accommodations for the penultimate time on this summer abroad. My return home is becoming visible on the horizon . . .