At first, I hadn’t yet clued in that something was not quite
right. Nestled cosily in my seat,
alternating between napping and absentmindedly staring out the window, I
wondered if the next stop would finally be ours. Stuttgart should be coming up soon, either the next station or the one after, as we’ve now been
sequestered on the train for well over 2 hours and cabin fever was starting to
set on in. Racking my brain, I struggled
to recall the exact words that the heavily accented German lad at the Departures Kiosk had meticulously
spelled out, but no such luck, as I hadn’t been paying much attention to
anything that he was saying. I was more
engrossed in admiring the eye-catching multi-hued satchel that the elegantly garbed
French woman was clutching, mentally calculating just how many Euros such a
magnificent possession would set me back.
That, and also trying to oh so
discretely not gawk at her jaw-dropping midnight blue back-pack, which from far
away, looked like a tiger crawling up her back.
Must be FENDI, I reasoned, as the cat theme was all the rage and must
have been acquired either in Milan or at a Parisian haute couture event. Would it be rude to just tap her on the
shoulder and say “Excusez-moi, Madame, but would you be kind enough to tell me
how much you paid and would you possibly consider selling your exquisite one of a kind bags to me for a
cheap price? My budget is a tad low
but perhaps we could make a trade and I’ll swap you for my ratty old Longchamps?” On second thought, might as well hold my head
up high (even though my rigid non-rubber neck was tilted at an uncomfortable
45-degree angle), bug-eyes firmly fixated on Fashion Lady’s coveted baggage,
and try and preserve whatever dignity I had left and just continue to ogle and salivate.
“Hey, come on, hurry on up, will you?” Travel Bud
bellowed. “We’re going to miss the train
if we don’t get going now”.
Like, really, you are so incredibly annoying. Who cares about the train when there are more important issues at hand - handbags, that is. I pondered whether I would have enough time
to sprint over to the satchel shop just around the corner in the hope of snagging a replica of the exotic treasure Miss Fashion Statement herself was
sporting. But alas, no such luck, for we
still had to hustle to the far end of the station and schlepp suitcases up
mountains of stairs to get to Track #01. But, then, Eureka! Travel Bud mumbled something about the train being delayed and that it
would pull into the station a few minutes late.
Bingo! Music to my
ears! The train is a tad behind schedule
and those extra few minutes would give me ample time to dash over to the
leather goods outlet and shop, grab and go.
Rolled eyes. Exasperated sighs. Wails and cries. Travel Bud knew
that it would be pointless to argue as it would just be best to agree with the handbag-obsessed shopaholic and let her scamper to
the shop and be done with it.
“Okay, you have exactly three minutes and you better be
quick! And, I’m warning you, if you’re
late, I’m getting on the train without you!”
A mere two minutes and forty-three seconds later, seasoned
shopper (Acquisitions Expert, if truth be told) that I am, was 40 Euros poorer
and the proud owner of a faux crocodile merlot satchel that was a steal of a
deal at 70% off, a treasure rescued from the clearance bin. And, to boot, my pink-sneaker clad feet
high-tailed it to Track #04 in record time!
And onto the caboose I scrambled, huffing and puffing, bags a flailing,
pleased as punch at my Olympic medal worthy luggage tossing skills.
“I think that we’re going in the wrong direction”.
To say that Travel Bud appeared to be out of sorts was an
understatement. Usually calm, cool and
collected, my pal Oz was a tad on edge.
Muttering incomprehensible gibberish, all that I could make out was “lost,
going east, tunnels, Alps, Black Forest, Vienna”. Yikes!
Did I just hear what was a reference to those dreaded tunnels? Before leaving on my overseas vacation, I had
spent countless hours researching train routes from northern Germany to the
southern border, just to make certain that the journey involved as few tunnels as possible. I have no issue veering miles off the beaten path and I will do whatever it takes to avoid
those confining tubes but the route that we were currently on seemed to be
dotted with an endless parade of tunnels – and, to make matters even worse, I
could feel the walls slowly closing in on me, trapping me in their underground lair – with the postcard perfect view of lush evergreens and snow-capped
mountains disappearing into an endless black hole with no light in sight…
Gulp!
And all that I could hear was Travel Bud chirp: “Looks like
we’re on our way through the Black Forest.
Guess we’ll have to buy a cuckoo clock”.
Seriously?
Who needs a cuckoo clock when you’re stuck on the choo choo
with the cuckoo?
The journey continues….
Next post!
In a few days! Believe it or not,
I’m back on track and will finally post the sequel to this tale the weekend of Jan 13th/14th. The never-ending story of
veering off track en route to Stuttgart - and, yes, we do eventually get
there!!
And, since it is my first post of 2018, I
would like to wish all of you, my dear readers, a very Happy New Year and
thanks so much for trekking along with me as I meander and stumble along
road-blocked paths towards my next destination.
And, what is old is new again - Seems like my ongoing technical issues have followed me into the New Year - so, guess what? No pictures!! Is it me or is it Blogger? Hope to have this hitch of a glitch figured out very, very, very soon.
