Thursday, September 12
Oh boy, did i not use my time wisely this morning.
My train to Paris, which i needed to get two seat reservations for, print the tickets onto physical paper for some reason, and only runs this one time during the day - a pain in the ass, all around - is leaving Berlin at 9:33am. To get to the departing station on time, i need to get on a train at the station by the hostel at 8:35.
I had set alarms for 6:30, 7:00, and 7:30. As i was climbing into bed at 1am after the film festival, i decided to turn off the 6:30 alarm, since i knew i would only snooze it anyway, and i might as well get an extra half hour of quality sleep. I wanted to be up at 7, 7:30 is the absolute you're-fucked-after-this alarm.
So of course, when the 7:00 alarm rang, i turned it off. I blinked and it was 7:30.
Oops.
I had really hoped i'd have time for a shower, breakfast, and finding a god damn post office this morning. I'd forgotten about it after the movies last night, because of course i did, remembering as i was on the train back to the hostel. I'd asked the bartender at the Sunflower about it last night, and he said there was a grocery store in the train station that he thought might be able to help me out in the morning. I'd be leaving too early for the nearby post office, which opened at 9.
So it's past 7:30, it's at least a 10 minute walk to the train station, i'm aiming to be there at 8:15, so i have some padding. I have 35 minutes, during which i need to repack my bag, strip my bed, and return the linens, towels, and padlock to get my deposits back.
My bowels determined that they were the priority.
After that...i took a shower anyway.
I didn't need to do that. I mean, i needed a shower, but i didn't need to do it in that moment. I guess i just thought i'd be quick.
So now it's nearly 8:00 and i am frantically shoveling all my shit into my backpack, tearing the sheets off the bed, and hoping i'm not waking up anyone else in the room.
I got downstairs, and waved to get the morning clerk's attention, so he could see me shoving the linens and towels into the laundry room. I was instructed to do this.
"Whoa! You've brought the whole blanket! That stays with the bed! Just the sheets and towels go in there!"
"Oh. Sorry about that," i said. He said more words, which i did not parse, but i detangled the comforter from the rest and got them shoved into the laundry slot. I still held the comforter in my arms as i waited for the clerk to finish with someone else.
Another employee passed by me, gesturing toward the blanket, "Please put this in the laundry slot," he said.
I was about to comply when the other clerk yelled back, "No, he's got the whole blanket!"
"Oh, sorry," said the other guy. Dammit. I thought this would be easier.
I got my turn at the counter, and handed over the lock and my key card.
"Oh, you will need the key card to return the blanket," the clerk said.
"I'm sorry, i don't have time for that," i said. "I need to be on a train in ten minutes."
"Oh," he said. He didn't look happy, but he gave me my deposit back, and i was on my way.
I never did see the flirty clerk again. Unfortunate, but it's not like i'm going to be back in Berlin any time soon.
In fact, it was completely different staff every shift at this hostel. I was there for four days, and once a shift changed, i never saw any of them again.
Hustling down the street, not running, but certainly sweating. I made it to the train station at 9:20. Fifteen minutes until the train.
Not too bad. Not far off from when i wanted to get here.
I went into that grocery store, and grabbed a chocolate pastry and a 1.5 liter bottle of water. As i was checking out, i asked the clerk about postage.
"No, we can't do that here," he said. "The next station in either direction can, though."
"Okay, perfect, thank you," i said. As it turned out, i was only riding one stop from here anyway to catch a connection. I would have seven minutes. It might be enough.
I had some difficulty finding the platform i needed for my train, but i got there just in time. I rode one stop, then got off...and found that the platform for my connection was on the other side of the station. So no, all the time i had was just enough to make it there.
But! I should have about twenty minutes at the next station before i got on my train to France. This is going to be a much bigger train station, since it has international trains, so maybe they'll have a post office.
There was a conveniently-placed information desk right at the platform when i arrived.
"Is there anywhere in the station where i can mail a postcard?"
"No. If you go to Berlin Central, they can."
"Thank you."
Well. I don't think this postcard is getting sent with a German postmark. That's unfortunate, but not the worst thing, i guess.
Found the platform relatively easily. Now, i can relax a little. I've given up on the postcard, and i'm in position for my train with plenty of time to spare.
Six hours until i get to Karlsruhe.
Boarding was easy. I think this is the first train i've ended up on where i didn't get a window seat. But, with easy access to the aisle, I tried a few times to get some food from the dining car, but the counter was closed. Table service only. I could see the dining car from my seat, so i would check in periodically, but i never saw an open table. Also, i got up a few times to look for the bathroom, but the ones near me were out of order, and the ones on the other side of the dining cart usually had long lines.
Three hours until i get to Karlsruhe.
I'm a little concerned about my transfer there, though. I have 23 minutes to connect to my train to Paris. Amanda and i had an experience with getting onto a train to Paris from London in 2013. There are more security checks than any other international trains. In 2013, we had, due to a comedy of errors, arrived at the station just minutes before the train left, and were told that "for international trains, you need to arrive at least 30 minutes early for check-in." The Eurail app is telling me to "Allow extra time for boarding" on this one. It says allow 20 minutes. I'm barely gonna make that. Check-in closes 5 minutes before the train leaves. Hopefully the platform isn't too far from where i come in. Hopefully i can find the platform number quickly, it hasn't always been easy for me to find that information in Germany.
As i'm writing this, i'm almost to Karlsruhe, so i guess we'll find out soon. At the last stop, some out-of-breath Americans got on the train, spent a lot of time complaining, and now i'm listening to this lady who sounds like she sucks airing grievances about the state of American politics and how bad Los Angeles is, and a lot of it's pretty racist and flat-out long-debunked Fox News propaganda, to a woman she just met that has a strong accent i can't quite place.
Ugh.
Why are these people so loud?
---
About twenty minutes out from Karlsruhe, with the thought that i might have to stand in a customs line for another twenty minutes between trains, i set out to find the bathroom again. I found a disabled one past the dining car, which only had one person waiting in line, and staked my claim there. The other person waiting gave up and wandered off, just seconds before the door opened and an elderly lady toddled out, very unsteady on her feet in this train moving at 200kph. She was heading toward two other people that were standing near the exit, and talking to them. I ducked into the bathroom.
When i got back to my seat, i was examining the overhead screen, which, in addition to displaying the exact speed of the train, showed that we were seven minutes out from Karlsruhe, plus other data below that i hadn't been paying attention to any of the other times i've looked up during this trip. Suddenly, i realized that it's showing all the upcoming departures from Karlsruhe, and their platform numbers! Oh, hell, that's a huge relief. And oh, what's this? It's been delayed by ten minutes??
Perfect perfect perfect perfect!!
I do not know what platform my train came in, but there was a sign as soon as i disembarked pointing down a stairway labeled 7-12. I followed it. I was in a long hallway with shops, mostly restaurants, on one side, plus food kiosks in the middle from time to time. I saw a yellow Lotto. Well, here might be my last chance.
They do not send letters. She told me to take the train one or two stops further, and there would be a post office in the station.
You know, i don't think Germany even has post offices.
I headed up the stairs to platform 7. There was just a cluster of people standing there on the concrete, like always. I didn't see anything indicating any additional security checks; no bag checks, no passport checks, no ticket checks, nothing.
With the delay, i still had 25 minutes until the train. Since i'd failed to acquire food on the last one, maybe i'd slip back downstairs and grab something here.
I went to the kiosk outside the Lotto and grabbed a premade sandwich. It looked pretty good, with tomatoes and basil tofu. Five euros. Sure.
I took my bounty back up to the platform, unwrapped it, and had a bite.
This thing is almost entirely bread. There's just the four little disks of basil tofu, the four little tomato slices, and a bit of lettuce, stuffed into a roll that's only cut like a third of the way through. And the bread is kinda stale.
I ate the whole thing, but i was unsatisfied.
17 minutes.
I had passed up the kebab shop because i didn't think i had time to wait for kebab. But...kebab's pretty fast, usually, right?
Fuck it. I want kebab. I should've just gotten kebab in the first place.
I got a döner box and a Diet Coke, which they call Coke Light here. In my experience, it's been pretty rare to even see that familiar light gray label; most places just carry Coke and Coke Zero.
My credit card was declined.
Ooooooookaaaayyyy. That's incredibly weird and uncomfortable. I just got my statement this morning and looked at the number, i am less than halfway to my limit. The credit card company and my bank both know that i'm traveling across Europe. Hell, it just worked at the shitty sandwich shop not ten minutes ago.
I paid in cash. Fortunate that i have some, i've been carrying it as little as possible. I'll need to investigate this further when i get to the hostel. Hopefully it was an issue on the kebab shop's end.
Anyway the kebab was wonderful. Definitely should've just gotten this in the first place. Very satisfying. We'll call that sandwich "breakfast" and this döner box "lunch."
The train arrived a couple minutes earlier than the delay suggested, and departed within three minutes of arrival. Getting inside was a bit of a challenge, people were crowded at the entrance. I looked into my car, and the aisle was swamped with people trying to figure out their luggage and their seats. It looked more like a busy metro car than a long-haul train with assigned seating.
Everything's going smoothly now, though. I'm cruising across the last bits of the German countryside, and soon i'll cross into France.
You know, no one asked me for that paper ticket on the last train. I kind of thought that might end up being the case, the "print your ticket on paper" instruction always felt like it was gonna be a France thing. Mostly because i hadn't been asked to do that for the train from Warsaw to Berlin. So i might have to deal with this again when i leave Paris.
No one's come through to check tickets at all on this train yet. So i guess we'll see what they end up needing from me. I'm betting they'll just scan my Eurail QR code and that'll be that, but it's possible they'll ask for the paper ticket, my passport, drivers license, look through my bag, take fingerprints, DNA sample, cut a lock of my hair, punch me in the face and take a mugshot.
Hopefully not, though.
But maybe.
---
All the conductor asked for was the Eurail code, but the wifi on the train sucked and my mobile data was spotty. It wouldn't load when she came through. I said, "well, i have this paper ticket that i printed out," and her eyes lit up.
"Yes! Let's scan that!" so she did. "Oh. I need the one from the app."
"Of course. It's still not loading." I showed her the screen, with a square undulating different shades of gray where a QR code should be.
She nodded. "Signal is bad. I'll come back."
Only for the code to pop up as soon as her back was turned. I was able to wave her down before she got more than another row away, she scanned it, and it was accepted.
After all the trouble i went to get these damn things printed. You know, i don't think i even documented it. But i've been trying since Vilnius, and i didn't succeed until the last day in Berlin. It's been a hassle.
We pulled into Paris Gare de l'Est right on time, just after 6pm. I looked at transit routes to the hostel, but the lines to get tickets were very long, and the Paris metro is not covered by the Eurail pass. Discovering that the Berlin metro was had been quite a welcome surprise; i never even thought to check if any of the other cities were.
So i decided to just walk. It would be about an hour.
But you know, i did it not because of the inconvenience of getting metro tickets. I did it because i wanted to. For the joy of taking a three-mile walk across Paris. For the simple pleasure of seeing the city.
I had to pee.
The train station had pay toilets, and i elected to forgo relief and stick to my principles.
Not far from the train station, i found a fully-automated public toilet. Fascinating design. It's a metal building planted in the sidewalk, the size of a coffee stand. The door slides open and shut with a motor. After use, the door shuts and locks while the entire room gets sprayed down like a car wash. Then, when the light turns from red to green, you can push the button to enter a very damp public restroom, and begin the process all over again. I had waited for someone to vacate, so i got to see the whole process. Or, as much as is visible from the outside, anyway. Which is just the red light, and hearing car wash noises.
It also has a bottle filling station on the side, which is great, i still needed a lot of water today and i didn't really want to chug it all after i got to the hostel.
I got to walk along Canal Saint-Martin for a good stretch, which was nice.
And the route took me right up to the cemetery gates of Père-Lachaise.
I'm 30 days in, and this is the first place in Europe that i have stood before. The first place that she stood with me.
The cemetery was closed. I don't know if i'll do another walkthrough this time, but it's pretty close to the hostel. So...probably.
I was almost there. I was right across the street from the hostel, Jo & Joe - Nation, when i got blindsided by the most thematically appropriate street art imaginable.
Across the street from my hostel, there is a street painting of a wolf howling at the moon. It's in the exact position as Amanda's stick figure wolf that she always drew to identify herself. The moon's not quite right, it's a full moon, and i think Amanda usually drew either a crescent moon or the seven-pointed star. But the angle, positioning, and composition of the piece are her symbol. And the full-blown sketch that she always did, when she filled in more details than the stick figure...the tail is dead on, and the hair at the scruff of the neck is exactly the way she drew it. That's her wolf.
I cried.
I got checked in (credit card seems to be fine now) and went up to my bunk. I sat down and wrote out a long Facebook post to go with the picture. It didn't upload. I re-wrote the whole thing and tried again, this time copying the text in case i lost it. Still didn't post. Pasted, tried a third time. Nothing.
Maybe Amanda doesn't want me to put all of that up there. Maybe i should keep most of this to myself.
I'm going to share it here, though. You've already come 127k words with me on this journey, including a lot of my rawest emotional moments, you deserve to see this, too. I had originally tagged her in the post and everything, so her whole extended family would have seen it, and i guess we don't need that.
I've just checked in at my hostel in Paris. This is on a wall across the street.
I don't like getting spiritual or whatever, especially not in public. I don't know what i believe, if anything. I want to believe. Other people have told me that they've felt her presence, but i don't know if i have. I've wondered if there's something wrong with me, if i can't feel it. But now i know she's with me. Tomorrow's our 21st anniversary. I came to Paris on this date specifically to revisit some of our fondest memories together. She's here. As much as she can be, she's here. In spirit, in energy, or in memory, i don't know. But she's here.
The first draft of this post, the one that got stuck crosswise in the inter-tubes, never to be seen again, was longer and deeper. I don't remember what i said. But i was sobbing when i wrote it.
I know i feel a deep, irrecoverable sadness from all of this. But i have to remember. That is what i came here for.
Tomorrow, our anniversary, i'll be going around Paris, intentionally revisiting the same spots we hit in 2013. Paris had been very special to us. Of the whole 2013 Eurotrip, i think our experiences here were the ones we talked about the most afterward.
After i'd regained my composure, i went back down to reception to see if i could get a lock for the drawer under my bed. Every hostel (well, every good hostel) that i've been to has had some form of lockers. Most of them either open with the same keycard as your room, or they give you a separate key. Some require you to have your own lock, which the hostels will either lend you, but take a cash deposit, which they return in exchange for the lock back; or else they will happily rent you one for a couple of bucks.
This hostel charged me five euros, which i assumed was a rental fee, then handed me a brand-new, fresh lock, still in a pristine cardboard box. "This is for you, to keep," the clerk said.
Oh.
I think i've only rented a lock once, the other times it's been a deposit, but after that i have kept thinking i should obtain a lock to carry with me on my travels.
I have now been handed a lock.
In Paris.
This feels like powerful symbolism, to me.
I know i've mentioned many times before about the love lock bridges, and how they deeply move me every time, because we accidentally came across the original love lock bridge, Pont d'Arts, in Paris in 2013. We bought a lock, wrote our names on it, and locked it to that bridge.
When i was planning this trip, i had been under the impression that the locks had all gone to a museum, perhaps the Louvre, since Pont d'Arts leads straight into its courtyard. I was heartbroken to find out, just weeks before starting this trip, that most of the panels had been destroyed. I'd hoped to visit our lock, maybe, if i could get close enough, even take it back. I still have the key. But now that would be impossible.
I sat in my bunk and held the lock in my hand for a while, feeling its weight, both physically and metaphorically.
Obviously, i am using it to lock this drawer. But when i leave Paris, what do i do with it? Since i don't have to give it back to the hostel?
I could find another place in Paris to lock it and leave it, with a new inscription, hopefully somewhere where it will stay until it rusts away naturally or the world ends, to replace the one that was lost from Pont d'Arts.
Or,
I could take it with me, return home with a lock from Paris, not the same one i had hoped to bring home, but an acceptable surrogate that i got from the place across the street from the wall with her wolf on it.
I don't have to decide right now. I don't even know when i'm leaving Paris. When i do, i'll follow my heart. Maybe she'll find a way to guide me.
This hostel has a rooftop garden and bar. I lamented that i never made it up to the one on the roof of Bunks at Rode, in Oslo, so i made it a priority to go check that out right away.
It's fine. I guess i thought there'd be a view, but the whole thing is surrounded by bushes that you can barely see through, especially at night. The rooftop bar was crowded with young people, drinking, enjoying each others' company. I'm still not feeling social enough to strike up a conversation with a stranger. I got a rum and coke, found a quiet corner, and sat down to chill and enjoy the fresh air for a few minutes.
With my drink finished, i headed back downstairs. To the lobby.
I was hungry. From the downstairs bar, i ordered another rum and coke, plus a Croque Monsieur, which turned out to be a truly absurd amount of food to be eating at 10pm. But god damn, it was delicious.
I picked the olives out of the salad, though. I know i've been eating and drinking a lot of foods and drinks that i've classically disliked on this trip and finding ways to enjoy them, but black olives is where i draw the line. There are a lot of foods that i dislike. Black olives are the only one that i hate.
So that's it. I'm tucked into my bunk now. It has a curtain that rolls down like a window shade, which is broken, but i've managed to limp it up and down a few times. Seems good enough.
It's just after midnight as i write this, so technically, it is our anniversary now.
I'm gonna get some sleep. I have a lot of celebrating to do tomorrow.
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