The creepiest thing just happened

As soon as I finished the last post, I logged onto myspace.  The girl (Caro) who let me spend the night in her apartment in Germany friended me.

 Coincidence?  I think not.

Foiled in under an hour

I knew avoiding the strike was too easy.  Something else was bound to go wrong, and it did.  I sprinted from class, which ended at 8:45pm, to make the 9:03 bus to Venlo, where the trainstation is.  Arrived at about 9:40 (train was 10:04), so purchased some coffee. 

Standing out on the platform, waiting with about a dozen other people.  Waiting, waiting.  No train.  Finally some porters come wandering over and the following conversation ensues:

Porter#1: The train isn’t coming.
Everyone: . . . . (various curses in Dutch, English, and German)
Me: What?
Porter#1: The train isn’t coming.  There’s a bus.
Me: No, back up, why isn’t the train coming?
Porter#2: There was a . . . uh, accident.
Porter#1: So there’s a bus.
Me: But I only have five minutes to make my connection and I think I’ve already missed it and I have to get to Venezia.
Porter#1: Oh, that’s not going to happen.

I just stare at them long and hard as they try to encourage me that there’s a bus that will take me to Germany for free.  I pull out my itinerary to show how I have to make my connection in order to make it to Cologne in time to make the overnight train to Munich in order to make it to Venice.  They were very nice, at least.  I made the split-second decision that, instead of going back to the castle with my tail between my legs and thus not making it to Venice until midnight the next day (instead of the original 2:30pm), I would try to make it as far as Cologne.  Their train station stays open all night, so I could just chill as long as needed and then catch the earliest train to continue.

So the porters do everything but hold my hands as they walk me to the exact place to get on the bus.  I get on and the crowded bus takes off.  We stopped somewhere past Boisheim (where the train broke down on the way back from Vienna) to pick up more people and the bus driver piled their bikes up in the space right behind me, six bikes stacked on top of each other.  Safe!

We’re going and then it occurs to me that I don’t even know where this bus is going.  The guys just said “Germany”.  I need to get to Monchengladback to get on a train to Cologne, so I lean forward to ask these two guys about my age, seated in front of me.  One blatantly ignores me and the other says he doesn’t speak English, but his shifty eyes and the fact that I KNOW German students learn English doesn’t fool me.  So I ask, “Well do you at least understand me enough to tell me where this bus is going?”  He says, “Viersen, then next Monchengladbach,” trying to answer without giving away that he speaks English.  Then I guess he felt bad for not being more helpful, because when the bus finally stopped, he asked, “Monchengladbach?”  I nodded that’s where I needed to go, so he motioned for me to follow him, but he didn’t want his friend to realize he was helping me.  So I followed them into the train station and to the platform, and he subtly glanced over his shoulder to make sure I was following.  Took me to the exact platform, which is where he was headed, as well.  So even if he was stubbornly unhelpful, he was helpful as well.

Actually made it to Cologne from there with no problems.  The next train to Munich was 4:21am and it was only 12:34am, so I found a cozy little part of the train station down by all the restaurants and right beneath a heating vent. 

In the station, four homeless men ambled around, digging through trashcans.  A couple other travelers staked out claims near me.  And then came Ingls, me new friend.  Ingls was a middle-aged man with a green German military cap and a gold hoop in one hear.  In very broken English, I picked out during our ten minute conversation that he’s convinced he’s a German volunteer security guard.  He’s not (as clear by the other security guards who came by and stayed the rest of the night near me to make sure I was okay).  He wanted to make sure I was okay, offered me his half-drunk coffee, told me to find him if anyone bothered me, then shook my hand, then kissed the back of my hand three times and my palm once before he wandered off, intimidated by this boy sitting next to me watching him suspiciously.

I guess that’s the good thing about being a cute little solo girl traveler.  Guys who are spending any length of time with you –even just spending the night anonymously by you in the trainstation– tend to make a mental claim on you and will watch out for you, even if they don’t even know your name.  I don’t know how many times I’ve had guys I haven’t even spoken with get protective of me against someone else they perceive is annoying me.  It’s a good feeling.

So . . . by this point I was supposed to be sleeping in a train on my way overnight to Munich.  Instead I was in the Cologne trainstation, which is only 1.5 hours from the castle.  I was getting “Monaco 2007″ flashbacks . . .

Italy was already on my bad side because of Milan

Okay, so first the almost-bad news.  Fidan messaged me about thirty minutes ago, frantic because Italy trains and busses are (probably) going on strike  Friday.  Of course, I was supposed to take a train from Venice to Rome on Friday.  And to even get to the train station, I’d have to take a bus.

Fortunately, this time I got one up on International Travel.  I immediately e-mailed both my Venice and Rome hostels, asking if they’d heard anything about this.  I told my Venice hostel that if so, I’d need to cancel Thursday night, and my Rome hostel that, if so, I’d need to book another night, Thursday night.  I found a train that goes directly from Venice to Rome at 6:38pm Thursday night, arriving at 11:03pm.  I have wifi in my hostel in Rome, so as soon as I get there, I’ll e-mail Fidan.  By then, her school will have told her what times the strike is.  If it’s going to prevent us from meeting up Friday then we’ll just have to make due with only seeing each other Saturday, by which time the strikes SHOULD be over.

 Don’t get me wrong, I’m FURIOUS about this.  Let’s recall my history with strikes, shall we?

1. I get stranded in Achen, Germany due to the trains all being screwy as an after-effect of German train strikes two days before.  I spend the night in a stranger’s aparment.
2. I get stranded in Paris, France on my way to Nice due to French National Railway strike.  I spend the night in a hostel but lose a day in Nice.
3. I . . . okay, I actually didn’t see it at all, but Germany went on strike again and I only narrowly avoided it on my way to Vienna.  I literally left the country of Germany like an hour before teh strike began.  My friends all missed a day in Berlin because of it, though.
4. Italian air traffic controllers went on strike, so my friend Emily got stranded in Italy for three days during midterms.

And now I am PUMPED full of adrenaline.  I’m so relieved I knew about this ahead of time.  I’m upset that I’m missing an evening in Venice, and it means I’m going to have to deal with an evening train and getting into Rome really really late instead of having a nice quiet evening at the hostel.   But it could –and has been before– so much worse.  I’d rather lose an evening in Venice than only have half a day to see Rome.  This would have been such an infuriating surprise in Italy.  Hopefully both my hostels will be very understanding and helpful and e-mail me back SOON so I can feel absolutely sure it’s all sorted out before I leave tomorrow night.

And now I’m excited about Italy.  Maybe my anxiety about this trip was a gut feeling that something was going to go wrong.  I just wasn’t feeling RIGHT about it.  I actually had been considering cancelling it the past two days.  Now I feel like this was God’s way of saying, “No, look, you’re going to be fine.  I’ll even let you know ahead of time what’s going to go wrong so that you can be ready for it.”  Thanks you, God!

In light of my adrenaline rush from defeating International Travel (sometime I’ll explain that castle-wide joke), here’s a game for you to play.  It’s called “Find Jessa”.  I guarantee I’m in every single one of the following pictures (taken by a professional photographer at the banquet we had for Jackie Liebergott back in September).  Some are harder to find me in than others.  Have fun!

To finish up the weekend

Saturday Bridget, Joel, Eric, Nick, and myself went into Koeln for the day (it’s Cologne, but I’ve read it on German maps and schedules so often now that I automatically call it Koeln.)  There’s nothing much there except a BEAUTIFUL big church and, in December, one of Germany’s better Christmas markets.  Saturday there was also a demonstration, one of the chain taking place all across Europe, calling for the release of the Kurdish rebel leader Omar something-or-other.  We stood around just long enough to take some pictures and try to decide what language the speakers were yelling in.  Women speakers need to realize that they need to pitch their voices down when making speeches through a PA system.  Otherwise their voices just come out shrill and obnoxious.

The church was interesting for several reasons.  First of all, it’s the first church I’ve been cold in. Usually, no matter the weather outside, the inside is fairly warm.  Second of all, the church was mostly destroyed during WWII so it’s been heavily rebuilt.  All the stained-glass has been replaced, but most of the replaced glass isn’t even an attempt at being historic; usually stained glass in churches are either ornate rose windows or tall, bright religious scenes.  There were a few of both, but a majority of the windows were interesting, sort of modern artsy patterns.  By the prayer candles, there was this little nook that was all colored over with what looked like crayons and sketch drawings.  That was pretty cool.  Also, some famous guy a long time ago took a trip to Jerusalem during the crusades and came back with what he claimed were the gifts of the Magi.  You can’t actually see them, but supposedly they’re in this oppulent gold box thing shaped like a big church near the altar of the church.  I’m not buying it, really, but if he really DID then hey, I stood five feet away from the gifts of the magi to Baby Jesus!

Ate lunch at a rather pricy Mexican restaurant.  And it didn’t taste like Tex-Mex OR Mexican.  But it was still lovely to eat enchiladas for the first time in several months.  I hope that when I get home, someone will take me out for a HUGE Mexican feast.  That would be lovely.

Afterwards, Bridget and I had planned to shop.  The boys managed two stores with us before fleeing for their lives to the Modern Art Museum.  Bridget and I scoured FOUR H&Ms and no less than six boot stores.  I bought two cute tunics and a pair of leggings; she bought two shirts.  We caught a 5:30 train back to Venlo where we purchased some milkshakes, then took our time getting a bus back to Well.

Sunday, Mission Purple Shirt and Mission Boots continued.  After doing laundry and brunch, Bridget, Amanda, and I caught the bus into Venlo for a couple hours.  We searched H&M.  No purple shirt.  However, they did get their boots.  I got some new sneaker flats for ONE EURO!!  They’re uber cute.  I’ll be going back to that shoe store for SURE within the next couple weeks; cute sneaker flats range from 1-5euro.  There are also some boots I like, but I want them in black.  I’ve also discovered they don’t actually have my shoe size, haha, but I can handle one size bigger, which is the size they carry.  AND I got a bag that I can use for traveling alongside my backpack; it’s tough for me to cram all my schoolwork, laptop, camera stuff, and clothes into my backpack, but I don’t want to lug a big rolling bag around.  So now I have a truly atrocious yet somehow cool turqoise bag that cost 10euro.  Not bad.  With yet another stop for milkshakes, this time from Mickey D’s, we concluded our shopping trip and returned to the castle, presumably to do homework.

I didn’t do homework, however, as I had said I would this weekend.  Nor did I clean my room.  I did, however, do laundry.  I’ve got my schedule figured out and ready to register for next semester.  I planned a bit more for my Italy trip, which I leave for Tuesday night.  I don’t have as much homework as I had feared, though I do have an essay I should be writing about right now.  I hadn’t realized it was due today.

And the good news is, my funk is over.  I’m in a good mood.  I’m actually excited about Italy now and I’m not feeling so overwhelmed with schoolwork. 

I just put some pictures up in a new webshots album called “Odds n Sods”.  It’s got some Amsterdam, some Cologne, some Halloween, some pumpkin carving.  Just odds and ends, you know.  Here are a couple old pictures that friends took, though, from Halloween and pumpkin carving.

Oh, and I also just edited the Amsterdam entry before this, so if you’ve already read it, maybe rereared after it says EDIT.

Stranger danger would have me sleep in a freezing train station!

Sunday through Monday was rough.  Though my original plan had been to spend all Sunday in Milan and then take an overnight back to Venlo, I wanted OUT of Milan, and wanted to be able to see Switzerland during the day anywas.  So I set off from my hotel at seven in the morning.  Due to stupid and rude people at the train station, and some lack of initiative on my own part, I wound up not making it on a train until 11:30 to Basel.

The train ride from Milano Centrale to Basilea SBB was breathtaking.  There were cute kids on my train, I finished my book, AND I got a grand tour of Switzerland, which is possibly one of the most beautiful countries in the world.  I mean, seriously, unreal.  Most of the country looks completely untouched, vast mountains with small pockets of houses or else quaint towns crawling up their sides.  For once the movies were right, and Switzerland actually looks like the scenery in the Sound of Music.  Just getting that beautiful tour of Switzerland made the day in Milan worth it.

Then came the crummy part.  Apparently the German train workers went on strike Friday and the smaller stations I was at were a mess.  I had to keep redirecting myself, and finally accidentally got on the wrong train because it was mislabeled.  I wound up in some small little town at 11pm at night.  Fortunately, three kinds souls took it upon themselves to help me –Caro, a sweet 25-year-old German girl, Adam, also German, and this adorable Middle Eastern med student boy.  They suggested I go to Auchen with them and they could help me reroute from there.  So we made it to Auchen . . . but the travel buro was closed and it had been the last train anyways.  I was going to have to spend the night in the freezing train station.

Then Caro did the unthinkable, and suggested that I could spend the night at her flat and come back in the morning to catch a train.  I was torn between remember stranger danger and NOT spending the night on the floor of a train station.  Then I realized what a funny story it would be, so I said yes.  We said goodbye to the boys and made the short walk to her flat.  Though we’d planned on sleeping, we wound up staying up until about 2:30am, talking about everything from the Euro to Britney Spears to slavery to boyfriends.  Her flat was tiny and crowded and crazy, and she had two pet rats that are identical.  She said she can’t tell them apart so she just calls them both  sweetie and darling.  She was also happy to teach me all sorts of German jokes and idiomatic expressions.

Though I would have liked to sleep in, I got up at 4:45ish, said goodbye, and caught the 5:38 train to Viersen.  Had to way 50 minutes on a freezing cold platform, at whcih point I inhaled a tube of Mentos because I hadn’t had anything to eat since 7am Sunday morning.  Got to Venlo, took the bus back to the castle, then was INSTANTLY thrust back into the chaos of life at the castle.

Random acts of extreme kindness restore my faith in humanity.