European Train Holiday (Day 1)
London to Konstanz
I’ve been fascinated by trains since I was a small child. I’ve wondered what a train-only vacation would look like; as in a vacation where I spend all of my “awake time” on a train. I’m about to find out. I’ve hastily planned such a vacation, comprising of some of my favourite rail sections in Europe.
This is Day 1.
2016 April 29th (1146km, 6 trains)
1. London, United Kingdom to Brussels, Belgium (365 km at 170 kmph)
I’m walking to Baker Street, to catch the Tube to St. Pancras. Someone (I can’t recall who), once said if you have never missed a plane, you’ve probably wasted too much time in airports — and I’ve never missed a plane. And something I like about international travel by rail is you have none of the check-in 90 minutes before nonsense. However, this time I am worried that something, totally unexpected will go wrong (in the tube, or during security, or customs), and I will miss the Eurostar to Brussels by 30 seconds — leading to a domino effect. This entire train holiday depends on trains running on time, me keeping to a time table, with very little wiggle-room.
Well nothing has gone wrong yet. The new Eurostars look the part.
The weather is good. England is lush and beautiful. Green fields and brown cottages. I drop into the Restaurant car to buy a coffee and some water, and am somewhat surprised that no one is looking out of the window. People look quite cheerful, and like me, probably look forward to a long-weekend’s vacation.
In comparison, the post-tunnel part of France and Belgium is also green, but flatter. Less impressive. It’s starting to rain.
I feel a bit uneasy, walking around Brussels Midi, after all the recent drama around terrorist attacks. But all seems calm and well.
2. Brussels to Cologne, Germany (221 km at 120 kmph)
Brussels Nord is looking sad and gloomy. The rain is not helping. There’s something about Brussels that makes me uneasy. It feels repressed.
Sitting in a train is not too different from sitting in a cafe, sipping a coffee, reading or listening to a book, working on your laptop or just looking at the world go by. Location is vital. The difference with a train, is that you see many different scenes, sometimes moving; sometimes still (like railway stations, or some faraway vista that lies motionless). Already I feel that this trip and the “concept” I’m trying out is a good idea.
With so many trains to take and so many tickets to keep track of, I’ve devised a scheme to make sure I remember where everything is. Phone in left front pocket. Wallet and ticket in right front pocket. Any old tickets in back pockets.
A strange thought. If a colourful and controversial work colleague or friend decides to write an autobiography, and has nothing to say about me, should I be “disappointed, but relieved” or “relieved, but disappointed”?
We pass Liege. This part of Belgium was home to my favourite Belgian, Hercule Poirot. I knew all types of things about Liege from how they cook rabbits, to how they speak French. A couple of weeks ago, I was discussing the topic of “what it means to be Indian” with an Indian friend, and how it seems very different from “what it means to be a Sri Lankan”. I’ve been very confused about “what it means to be Belgian”. Half Dutch, half French, united vaguely by the Catholic Religion. Compared to last time, when I alighted the train and visited Liege, I see a lot more people out of the train window.
The smoked chicken sandwich from the on-board restaurant is good. Sun-dried tomatoes, smoked chicken, chicken sausage, and cream cheese. Train food is so much better than Plane food.
I’m listening to Kemph’s Well Tempered Clavier. It’s in shuffle mode, so sometimes I here fugues follow fugues. I also downloaded a couple of audiobooks for this trip, along with the economist. We are in Germany. I know because we see a lot of German flags. Not unlike the US. We pass a stream, with a wigwam on its banks. Parts feel like winter, parts spring, parts even summer as the sun comes out. Rural gives way to Urban.
Many of the houses we pass look like pictures from a “history of music” with a caption, “Bach lived here”. I’m tempted to take pictures, but I remember the “rules”. Anyway, it’s really hard to put my thoughts into a photograph. The houses are ordered, but beautiful. Lots of colours. And lots of foliage surrounding them. Some of the houses are gabled. German architecture seems far less ornate than English. Mostly clean and simple shapes.
Even the “mass produced” blocks of flats look aesthetic. The lone instance of graffiti is a portrait of Calvin (As in Hobbes, not John). “Je suis Charlie” on a roof. Urban gives way to Industrial.
Huge chimneys. Lots of solar panels. Wind turbines. Our speed? 250 kmph.
It costs one Euro to use the WC at Koln Haupt Barnhof. The facilities are spotless.
3. Cologne to Koblenz (118 km at 133 kmph)
As I wait for the Rhine Express to Koblenz, passengers board the TGV to Paris Nord.
There’s something about trains that make me proud. All that marvellous engineering that has gone into building trains and railways. And the economic, social and political change this has driven.
In “Towards the Flame” (one of my audiobooks for this trip), Dominic Lieven talks about how the age of naval supremacy gave way to the age of railway supremacy.
There’s also something noble about trains in a socialist way. Trains serve everyone, from the poorest of the poor crammed into ancient masses to corroding iron in rural India, to the most plush first class carriages. Most rail systems are state owned. And don’t seem to have succumbed to vulture capitalism. No chance of a pre-departure video with a cheap CEO telling you how much he cares about you, just before they stop the free TV channels, and move to pay-for-view mode.
We are to pass the birthplace of Beethoven. It’s easy to remember “Beethoven was Bonn in Bonn” (pun intended). It’s hard not to feel proud of being human, when you know that Beethoven is a member of your species. The Eroica thunders in my earphones in his honour.
I think to myself, should I see Beethoven’s birthplace in person on foot, instead of from the distance on a train?
This is a different way of experiencing. Are things better when more things are left to your imagination?
Lawns or beds with a small number of very colourful flowers, usually red or yellow, are very common. Matching the German flag. Even the cemeteries have, not lilies, but these colourful flowers. Lakes, with men fishing. It all feels very peaceful. Unsurprisingly, many passengers dose off. The passenger opposite me is dressed in black. Trousers, shirt, sweater, and coat on the hanger. He’s earnestly typing on his laptop. I just notice his dog-collar.
We stop at Bonn. I’m tempted to get off, at least take some pictures. But something reminds me of the rules. As if to confirm this seriousness, the first movement of Beethoven’s third, leads to Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D. Shuffle mode. Old Bonn leads to new Bonn. Tech. Factories.
The first mountains appear. And the rhine. Old houses, smokey, with dark window frames, very square. White specs of flowers on green grass. The Rhine is wide; about 80% of my view. The train skirts one of its shores. On the other side houses where Schumann might have lived and written something. Small shops that specialise in selling various things; I don’t know what. I seem to be the only “Tourist” on the train; O ye queuing up at Disneyland, o what you miss. Nor have I seen a MacDonalds for quite a while. Barges and boats pass us by. Some shaped like submarines. All sporting the flags of countries, cities, provinces, duchies.
Bad Bresig was painted with the same palette as Nuwara-Eliya. Clouds cool; Grass cold; Houses and flowers warm. We depart from Bad Bresig station, gradually gaining speed in time with La Traviata (the Overture).
Is it just me, or do trains seem to go well with most music?
Fields of small yellow flowers; seemingly endless. The Blue-green scenery reminds me of home. Photos would not have done these justice. If you don’t believe me, all I can say is, “come see and be enlightened”. Also, I see more. I notice more. I enjoy more. The priest gets off at Andernach. I continue to type with thumbs. As we draw near to Koblenz, the Economist explains the drawbacks of gross-national-product. As I get up, a girl points out that I should get off Koblenz HB, and probably not Koblenz Stadtmitte. She’s right. [This proved to be a pattern. I had picked rail routes where tourists, much less a Sri Lankan one, were not common. And various nice locals were quick to help, from interpreting foreign signs, to differentiate between Swiss Francs and Euros]
4. Rhine Valley Line: Koblenz to Mannheim (149 km at 95 kmph)
An old castle looks down at Koblenz station. It’s surrounding neighbourhood seems to be mostly populated by “immigrants”. However, if a German lived in Syria, Palestine, or wherever these people came from, she would have been known as an “Expat”. A Billboard says “My first love”. Many billboards seem to have the title in English, but the details in German.
Back at Koblenz station after a short walk, I try out a pastry with cheese and chopped bacon.
As we restart our journey along the Rhine, castles get older and more imposing. The river is so wide it looks more like a lake — not unlike Interlaken; with a few differences. The water is dark green, not blue. The hills are hills; not mountains. The greenery is almost Irish in lushness. A medieval tower jumps out of nowhere.
Churches, houses, all ornate, noble, and very German. The sort of churches and houses Brahms might have written. There is unmistakable Ottoman influence. I decide to skip the Bruckner until tomorrow, when I’ll be in Austria.
After Mainz the scenary is a lot more industrial, and less interesting. The terraine is also dry, with lots of shrub jungle.
On a hilltop flies the German flag, and slightly behind and above it, the EU flag. Some sort of sign? My transit in Mannheim was not long, but I had time to try out a Wiener Mandelhomie; a chocolate coated almond bread.
5. Mannheim to Offenburg (141 km at 165 kmph)
I’m reminded of Karlsruhe Gardens, Colombo, as we pass Karlsruhe. The sun is shining bright, and the odd garden sports a sunbather. The industrial scenery continues, only to give away to more mountains, right at the end, as we approach Offenburg.
6. Blackforest Line: Offenburg to Konstanz (152 km at 67 kmph)
As we leave Offenburg, the first snow-capped mountains begin to appear. We pass idyllic towns, parks, more and more water. The odd beer factory. For some reason all this seems to merge into nature, rather than disrupt it. We pass one old farm, with moss on the roof.
Small square windows, and a bridge over a brook. The setting sun shines golden on the trees and logs. The Blackforest, in contrast, is dark; with rocks, tunnels and shadows. Meadows dressed in long grass and yellow flowers. Lakes, parks and the promise of holidays.
Konstanz is so close to the Swiss border, that the inhabitants fooled WW2 bombers from bombing it, by keeping the lights on during night, thus making it seems like part of Switzerland.
The bridge that joins the two parts of Konstanz is amazing. On one side is the Rhine, on the other side, a much wider lake, that is also the Rhine. It feels the train is floating in the water. The sun is setting on the wider side, and for some reason looks more like a sunrise. I’m not sure of the physics of this, or even whether a sunrise should look different from a sunset.
