Alpine Summer

Again, I decided not to go with Dr. Norwood's other class as they went to Nördlingen. I was kind of disappointed about my decision to sit it out as the day stretched on, but it was probably for the best.

When Luke got back, we realized that neither of us were packed yet for the trip. Also, some sort of dinner was necessary. So we packed as quickly as we could, set a deadline for when was the absolute last moment we could leave and make the final train from the Schwä to Stuttgart.

Things are going as planned. We have dinner in the oven a bit of time to spare. However, our food takes much longer than the package directions promised. While it was delicious when finally cooked, it also led to the Sydney-and-Luke-are-late-late-late adventure. We gobbled down the food and hurried upstairs to grab our bags for the trip.

Because it's already late and we're the last ones still here, the building is dark and quiet. (( Also noteworthy is that I'm still suffering from the inflammation of the foot, my mystery injury. )) Luke turns to me as we approach the stairs at the front door and says, "Do you think we can walk a little faster? Like, 'walking for fitness'?"

I opened my mouth to reply, "I'm not sure. I'm afraid it might be like the tortoise and the hare: we'll be okay if we take a slow but steady pace but, if we try to hurry, I might hurt myself and have to go even slower the rest of the way. But, we can cross our fingers and give it a shot." But all that actually came out was "I---AAAAAA" In the dark, I had misjudged the number of stairs and fallen. I landed very strangely and quite uncomfortably on my other foot (( the one with few problems, previously )).

Thus, I'm literally hobbling down the street at a slower pace than that which I was dragging myself around before. I couldn't help but laugh at the situation, even though I had, indeed, hurt myself pretty badly. By the time we get to the marktplatz, we don't think we'll make our train in time at this pace. Luckily, the marktplatz is where the cabs hang out, so we get a taxi to take us a ridiculously short distance to be sure to catch our train.

We make it in time . . . to see that the last train to Stuttgart is late. And it is 15 minutes late. That just meant that we had 15 fewer minutes to spend just sitting in the Stuttgart Hauptbahnhof waiting for our overnight train.

The wait in Stuttgart was long and uneventful. At one point, a man nearby must have overheard us speaking, because he asked us, in English, if we had ever heard of the Orient Express. Though it sounded familiar to me, I really couldn't place it, so we told him no. He replied that we must not be British, then, because it's really famous there. He pointed down the platforms to a beautiful train with old cars that, at least from that distance, appeared to be made of wood. He explained that it's one of the oldest trains that still runs and that, even though it's pushed by new engines, all the cars are original.

Just as we had finally regained our peace of mind after the worries about the Schwäbisch Gmünd --> Stuttgart train, our CNL (( City Night Line )) was 35 minutes late as well. It would not have been such an issue if it wasn't scheduled for 1:26 AM and we weren't getting tired and cranky. When it finally pulls up, we check our bunk reservations: Wagen 39, bunks 31 & 32. So, we hop on, and notice that all the cars have compartments, but not compartments with beds. The Wagen numbers are in the low twenties and heading down. After a while of freaking out, we see a sign on one of the doors indicating that the train is headed for several places, none of them being Utrecht. We jump off and run to check the sign again: maybe, because it was so late, our train had been moved to another platform? As we near the sign, I notice that some of the train cars look different further down. We run and jump on one of the ones that proclaimed CNL as we realized that this train must split somewhere down the track.

An enormous feeling of relief washes over me as I see bunks. Now for our car . . . not so hard. The bunks, easily found. The door to the compartment -- locked from the inside. I try saying "Hallo" very softly at first, and get louder and louder. No response. Luke heads off to find some help; he returns with an old man dressed as an old-timey train conductor. The man hallo-s too. No response. Finally, he notices one of the bunks by the door has sheets, so he reaches up and yanks on them, chastises the compartment's sole inhabitant for locking the door when there were more stops ahead, and makes him get down to unlock it. We thank the old man and take our bunks.

A few minutes later, as the train is pulling out of the station, another train worker comes by with two of the noisiest people ever. Apparently they were looking for unreserved bunks, and there were three available in our compartment. The woman puts her stuff on the bunk just above mine and keeps talking. The train worker has also come to check tickets, and I guess the proper way to inform the passengers of this is to grab them by the foot and yank really hard. Because that's what he did to me. After this, I was finally able to lie in the uncomfortable bunk in peace. A few hours later, I guess exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep.