Locomotion

Prior to the trip, A and I advertised broadly our enthusiasm for the train that we had booked from Paris to Prague. Our intinerary was to travel from Paris to Frankfurt and then switch trains there to continue on to Prague. The first train was to be a five hour journey in the early evening through until 11 PM. The second train, leaving Prague 45 minutes after our Paris train arrived, was a first class sleeper train. A and I had talked numerous times about the sleeper train. Visions of old movies, like North by Northwest and White Christmas, included slick diner cars and roomy sleeping quarters were sprinkled throughout these anticipatory chats. It also is important to note that we've taken a few trains in our travels - some of you may recall two famous train trips in India; one of which stopped completely mid-trip (never did make it to Jaisalmir) and another that got us from Agra to Varanasi but shaking at the sleeplessness and stench and horror of the beaten up thief en route. And so, we allowed our imaginations to run wild, if not romantic at the idea of a train trip, first class, in Europe.

It all started so well... departed Gare l'Est Paris terminal at precisely 5:03 PM as outlined on our Austrian tickets and moved at a fantastic pace through the suburbs of Paris and then onto the countryside. We even made a few acquaintances in our train car. Two American women were quite friendly with us - one of which lived in Germany since her husband was stationed there, the other, a Tennessee tourist named Roxanne who thought French bread was just too crunchy and that WonderBread, which you don't have to use your teeth on, is real bread. These two American ladies were starkly contrasted by an older lady who was a French-American German-resident teacher who chose to tell us about an intolerable student in her class who actually ordered pizza and got it delivered to the classroom (Anyone else thinking of Jeff Spicoli in Fast Times at Ridgemont High?). The car was largely empty and I had finally taken the opportunity to rest and settle into my Prague guidebook occasionally looking out the broad window to enjoy the delightful tour, delightful that is until Metz.

Metz is a French train stop and merely that. It's not a place one stops to take in the sights or to make major transfers to other destinations. We had stopped for 20 minutes at Metz, which wasn't scheduled, and so the teacher inquired about the delay. She returned with information that the French engine on our train was not compatible with the German rails ahead of us. The French conductor was waiting for a locomotive change and once that occurred, we would be on our way. Fifty minutes passed and then and hour and a half had gone by. We noted that our connection to the Prague train from Frankfurt would be missed. Slightly disappointed but optimistic about an alternative solution, we sat in the hot train car waiting for updates on the engine change. I was actually quite calm about the situation, enjoying my guidebook, noting places we were going and processing tips for our visit in Prague. I put the guidebook in the pouch in front of my seat and settled in for a chat with the Americans and the teacher. During the delay, the teacher checked in for updates every 20 minutes or so getting more and more frustrated with the negligible news although somewhat proud of being the messenger to us non-bilingual Canadians. At the end of the hour and a half, she returned from another check-in, harried and grabbing at her luggage. A had joined her and other travellers for this last update and came back on the train car shortly after her saying that the train was not going to be moving any time soon and that we had to change trains. The train we were changing to was leaving at any minute (four platforms away, mind you) and was heading to Saarbrucken. We all moved quickly to the Saarbrucken platform, up the stairs, down the stairs, luggage bumbling and found seats on the slick commuter train. The train left the platform a mere three minutes after we boarded it.

While on the train a DB (Deutsch Bahn) train agent visited our car and explained that from Saarbrucken, we would have to take a train to Mannheim and from there we might be able to get to Frankfurt so as to continue on our journey. The DB agent was less than polished and of course blamed the French for the inconvenience and said that DB was doing their best to deal the problem which wasn't really their problem. It was shortly after this that I realized our not-nearly-loved-nor-utilized-yet guidebook to Prague was back in Metz. Quite a tragedy, but out of our hands at this point.

We arrived at Saarbrucken at about 1030 PM. Now what. The American ladies were in luck, since a train was waiting at a nearby platform for their desitnation. The reluctantly left us, despite their ticket onward, feeling as though the adventure we had all signed up for was too soon to end. We 30+ passengers, without a train. huddled on a platform that apparently was going to be bringing us somewhere yet in the evening somehow. In short order we heard news that a train was coming to meet us on that platform to get us to Frankfurt. I didn't really buy it because that would just be silly. Sure enough within 5 minutes, a DB locomotive pulled up with a group of French train cars to "Frankfurt" which looked an awful lot like the cars that got us to Metz. Yep, it was the very train with a German engine on it.

We laughed and laughed - the teacher less than impressed but pleased at herself for having led us all to this point like herding sheep to the pasture or something. We got back on our train, even our previous train car. I sat down and then went directly to find our Prague guidebook. No luck. A then sorted out that we were driving in the opposite direction and went the other way in the car to claim it. And sure enough... there it was, neatly stowed in the seat pouch for us to reclaim. Ahhh... Prague, here we come.