As for lodging, I had the deal of the century in Amsterdam. I paid 10 Euros a night for a room plus 5 Euros for linens, a bed with clean bedding, and private access to a bathroom. It was definitely no frills, but there's no where else I can think of that would have afforded this kind of bargain. As I looked around for other deals on hotels, I realized that the hard core reality meant I was going to have to work in the 45-60 Euro range for the rest of my visit. I decided to look for other ways to save on lodging costs. When I realized I was going to have two significant train trips I thought...Night Train. I didn't want to lose precious daylight hours sitting on a train. Taking a night train meant I wouldn't have to lose time while traveling. Cindy and I had used the night train from Prague to Krakow, and it worked reasonably well for us on that trip.
I've already written about my trip eastward (see my post "Walking after midnight in Venlo"), which had nightmarish qualities. The cost was extremely high and I had to make four changes, including the infamous four hour layover in Venlo in the middle of the night. Even though I packed quite light, lugging my backpack and small roller back on and off of each of these trains was not my idea of effective strength training.
Cutting to the chase, I ended up in the Flensburg train station a bit before 9:00 p.m. waiting for my 10:30 p.m. departure to Schiphol.
While it wasn't deserted, exactly, they were definitely closing up for the night.
After spending 12 hours on the train from Flensburg to Amsterdam Schiphol on the return leg of my journey, I have come to realize that I've can't do this anymore. I just can't sit and stare. Sleep is ephemeral, particularly when one doesn't have the luxury of stretching out on the bench in the compartment. Having slept in a sleeping car some years ago, I realized that it's completely not worth it to buy such a ticket. The sleeping car I was in accommodated six women--strangers all, stacked up three to a side in very shallow berths. I've become increasingly more claustrophobic as I've aged, so that is definitely a "no go" for me.
I had thought I would be able to stretch out on the bench on this trip, but when I hopped on the train. I managed to get on just barely in time before the train pulled away from the platform, in spite of trying to position myself where my wagon was supposed to be located.This train was stopping at various points, coupling and uncoupling, which meant I had to get in the right wagon, the right compartment and the right seat, or be damned to ending up somewhere I didn't want to be. I burst in to my compartment and found two young men stretched out on each of the benches. It really wasn't a problem since I didn't need to sit by the window in the middle of the night, but two of us were going to have to share a bench. The third traveler had the luxury of stretching out for the duration of the trip (lucky boy). Naturally, I was one of the "sharers".
My bench mate told me, "I don't sleep on trains," and he wanted to chat for a while. Much to my surprise, I felt my eyes start to drop, and was overwhelmed by the clear desire NOT to chat. Regardless, we talked a bit. He told me he was a taxi driver in London who had just delivered his nephew to Sweden. He was returning to Calais to pick up his vehicle which had broken down in France. He was originally from Turkey, and his language skills were probably right down there with my German skills. Still, he was a pleasant young man and I didn't want to be rude. At one point, the poor kid was propped up on an elbow "sleeping". Before I knew it, his head was down on the second seat of the bench and he was out for the rest of the ride.
This was a 12-hour journey. There were many, many stops, complete with screeching brakes and jolting halts, and some rather loud folks in nearby compartments. Regardless, I found I was nodding into fitful sleep. My neck went through some miserable contortions as I dropped off in to sleep, only to move into a more comfortable position. Comfort wasn't an option.
Finally, our young friend got off the train in Köln, about an hour and a half from the border with the Netherlands in Emmerich. By this time, it was already 7:30 or so. As it turns out, it was a very lucky thing he left when he did.
I think I must have dozed a bit on the bench until we hit the border. Once we stopped, two tall, thin young men with shaved heads and wearing bomber jackets burst into the compartment and flashed some kind of card (identity?) saying "We're from immigration. Are these your bags?" Even in my logey state, I felt something was "off" about these two. The card flash was rather ridiculous. It could have been a library card with a peppermint candy in the middle.
The young Swede and I looked at each other and said to each other, "They're not from immigration." We heard the two young men going down the corridor of the wagon, and stop a few doors down to say "Open your bags. You have stolen goods."
The Swede said, "They didn't ask to look in our bags. They're looking for darker people."
The Swede looked a bit like me, actually. He could have passed for my son. Obviously, we looked Northern European, and therefore passed muster. Additionally, the perception that a mother was traveling with her 20-something son might have also worked in our favor.
We then saw the two shaved headed men leading two other young men to the end of the corridor. They had handcuffed these two guys. All of a sudden, one of the shaved headed men came back in to our compartment and asked again if the bags were our own. We nodded "yes."
After they left, I told the young Swede that I felt helpless, but that we should try to do something. What was happening just seemed so clearly wrong. I looked for train personnel, but saw no one from the Deutsche Bahn in sight. In fact, after having our tickets checked in Flensburg, we hadn't seen a conductor.
I told the young man that I was a Jew and that I had spent the previous week visiting concentration camps and Holocaust related sites. This felt like a hint of deja vu.
The train pulled in to the Utrecht station and the Swede and I got off, as did the shaved headed young men and the two young men in handcuffs. As they left, one of the shaved headed men said to the handcuffed young men, "You need to stay close to us. It will go very badly for you if you do not."
God...
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