June 27 – Day 1, Leg 3
Arriving in the Köln train station, we knew we had to make good time. It was rush hour, and the bride and groom were expecting us to have arrived already. The ticket agent in Amsterdam had given us some instructions on how to get to our tiny final destination in Freudenberg, but it seemed too bizarre that someone a country away would be able to get us so close to such a small place efficiently. We went to a ticket office to get an update.
We purchased train tickets to a tiny town called Betzdorf. From there we were to catch a bus to Siegen, as the train tracks were closed for repair. The ticket agent in Amsterdam had been right. I was amazed. Somehow a network of countries, each smaller than the province of BC, had figured out how to move literally millions of people daily–comfortably, efficiently, and accurately. And not just to downtown centres, but into the middle of what would soon seem like nowhere. During my regular daily commute on the SkyTrain from downtown, I’ve often been appalled at stalled trains, people’s refusal to actually let one off the train, crowding the doors both inside and outside so that it’s impossible to maneuver either the train or the platform. I never would have imagined that somewhere, somehow, people were embarking and disembarking in a dignified manner, getting to where they needed to go—even if it was far away—all using public transit.
We boarded a train for the ride to Betzdorf. I was still feeling so excited, but it was by this point, the excitement was beginning to be tempered by the fact that I was tired and ready to be there so I could change, wash up, and have some proper food. Disorientation was also starting to set in. I was in another country.
Leaving Köln, the train cut east, making it’s way through an increasingly rural area. There were vestiges of industry—mining, steel plants and the like—but many of these areas were once again being taken over by greenery. As we moved closer to Betzdorf, there was more and more farmland, and I eventually began to wonder, “Where the hell am I going?”
We arrived at the Betzdorf train station to find that basically no one spoke English and the bus stop where we needed to board to get to Siegen in 5 minutes was not apparent. Gravitating of course to someone in uniform, we attempted to get out what we were looking for with little luck. When a random man standing by heard me say “Siegen” he began speaking to me in German and amazingly, I understood! Something inside had woken up and kickstarted those language lessons I’d taken my first year in university over 10 years ago, and I could (mostly) understand what he was saying. We went with him to the bus stop, chatting, he in German, me in English, and actually having a conversation. I felt what would be my first surge of new confidence—I was traveling.
